Dying swans They are gasping for air retching their last breath They had gathered to be with us to bring wisdom Yet you took their beautiful necks and strangled them Looked into their loving eyes and poisoned them With twisting hands you stole the golden promise Choked life from their broken hearts and beaten bodies I thought you were different not one of them not like all the others But you became far worse than the innocence killers More murderous than the greedy simpletons of yesterday You dressed as a queen in a gown of white feathers Spoke tongues of angels and whispered togetherness Forever was the promise you spoke so delicately They had gathered around us under the willow weeping Two young girls smiled sweetly as you held me A naked boy stood as silent as a statue before us Naivete perfumed the floral setting of our dreams We were beyond space entwined within time Together finally like two birds flying into eternity Your beautiful hand reached out to beckon them closer As the feathered flock encircled us like priests and priestess You smiled and they came nearer their fear falling behind them Come closer come into me i will never hurt you i promise They believed you in that moment they trusted us Then you took their necks and shook them violently One by one they lay jerking and shaking before me Their divine bodies in spasms like snakes burning The young cygnets dark eyes pleading with me Why did you do this why would she lie to us I turned to you in disbelief but you had disappeared And all that was left was green grass soaked in black tears  Wordz by ‘ Y ‘ MagickalChild A ‘MagickalChild’ is birthed whenever ‘The Other’ is communed with through the combined soul of creativity and intention. The Center of Everything In the self is a door Through the door is a dream Within the dream is a river Upon the river sits a boat On the boat rides a ghost This ghost is the dreamer The dreamer breathes pleasure The pleasure draws its breath The breath sucks and shivers The shivers show the way The way is even deeper Deeper than any measure The measure is timeless Timelessness whispers The whisperer tells us The teller unknowing The unknowingness knows us The knowing moves forward Forward into the chasm The chasm that swallows Swallows the serpent The serpent unwinds us The unwinding chaos The chaos shatters everything Everything we hold true The truth of the liar The liars bitter laughter That laughs at disaster The disastrous master The master of tensions The tension that binds us Binds us to the past The past of our ancestors The ancestors within the earth The earth is the cauldron The cauldron of transformation That transforms the raven The raven of knowledge The knowledge of forgetfulness The forgetfulness of wisdom The wisdom of giving The giving that saves us Saves our souls as we crumble The soul’s weight now lightened To the light of the spirts The spirits that dance The dance of creation Creating the gateway The gates to the garden The garden of splendour The splendour that opens The opening within us To the tree that trembles Its trembling shimmer That shimmers at its centre  THE CENTER OF EVERYTHING!  That shimmers at its centre Its trembling shimmer To the tree that trembles The opening within us The splendour that opens The garden of splendour The gates to the garden Creating the gateway The dance of creation The spirits that dance To the light of the spirits The souls weight now lightened Save's our souls as we crumble The giving that saves us The wisdom of giving The forgetfullness of wisdom The knowledge of forgetfulness The raven of knowledge That transforms the raven The cauldron of transformation The earth is the cauldron The ancestors within the earth The past of our ancestors Binds us to the past The tension that binds us The master of tensions The disastrous master That laughs at disaster The liars bitter laughter The truth of the liar Everything we hold true The chaos that shatters everything The unwinding chaos The serpent unwinds us Swallows the serpent The chasm that swallows Forward into the chasm The knowing moves forward The unknowingness knows us The teller unknowing The whisperer tells us Timelessness whispers The measure is timeless Deeper than any measure The way even deeper The shivers show the way The breath sucks and shivers The pleasure draws its breath The dreamer breathes pleasure The ghost is the dreamer On the boat rides a ghost Upon a river sits a boat Within the dream is a river Through the door is a dream In the self is a door  Fallen Angel We came from heaven, falling from the sky Like angels tumbling through the night The seraphim’s scream their wrenching cry Forgetfulness now claiming its delight Oh how we wandered shaken and forlorn Our senses shattered from what was done The golden mantle now tattered and torn Our withered wings singed from the sun And how we yearned to sing the songs That sung the celestial realms awake Yet silence gripped our tethered tongues Like dying swans on poisoned lakes What of prayer and gods covenant to man When so much suffering upon the earth Our arms spread wide to touch the land Our hearts entwined to her rebirth This pain was caused by us after the fall The gaping wound not well disguised As we wait for harp songs budding dawn The woe within her darkened eyes And now we know the plight of every man Of how it feels when praying to the wind It’s only God that knows and understands How angels cry for every hand that’s sinned For every breath of life and love we take An angel watches dreaming of the day When we would raise our eyes and hearts again And kneel on bended knee to pray We would never want to see your likes again So far fallen from the firmament Your tears of love that washed our guilt away Returned at last to those that were heaven sent  Fallen Angel: Jolinde Nijland Photographer: Carlos diaz Poet: Y.Zsigo 'MagickalChild''The series of images and poetry entitled 'MagickalChild' is an exploration into revealing the essence of the people involved through imagery / art / poetry, creating an invocation through Magickal intention to birth an aspect of themselves into the world'
Click on 'MagickalChild' link on blog to see more EnglandThis land is cursed Its people are broken The spirits of old, imprisoned Its glorious past a gravestone To many spells have been cast here The demons bicker in the junkyards Over busted souls and broken hearts Big Ben rings out its last lament Yet no one bothers to listen All to busy to know they’re on a sinking ship All to clever to realize they are drowning And what of Brittania and the Castles keep As if a lost underworld soaking in the sludge of sleep Dripping with dark depression, swimming in its own sewage I longed for your bright and brilliant return Like a sailors wife who’s eyes weeping Never leaves the salty seas horizon I took courage and tried to stay the course In the hope that honour would return Now battered and broken I leave these clawed torn shores behind me No recompense, no real remorse Just simple relief In the deep understanding That England YOU ARE NO MORE.  The Withered GardenThe garden weeps and withers Surely all is lost, alone and dying Where is the goat that kisses flowers Where are the dancing Fay at twilight Why has the moon gone silent And the breeze standing still as stone He’s alone here watching orchid’s flower As Pan crys tears into the black river Suffocating on smog and smoke Her hand held like a crippled captive She alone can call down the summer Yet her fingers are now like broken bones What have we done with the promise That was given many moons ago Under cherry blossoms fragrant scent Where sweetness filled the waters And perfumed petals from loves union Spun and spilled through the hollow It was only given as a gentle gift A treasured moment soft as snow That melted died and quivered Now broken to the crooked winter What has become of us, of our beauty Now rotting in dark sunsets all alone.  Pan' How yet may it come to this A life of pleasure and of bliss Your playful presence in our midst In love and laughter's decadence'  Poem; Y.Zsigo Artwork; Diego Almeida WrathYou called me i came So i called out your name You ran screaming to reason To love fear and hate When all that was needed Was to bow to your fate You may not of known The power you'd spoken The seed's had been sown The heart strings been broken This was never a game To be played with like children Now we burn at the gates Of the Gods of creation  Poem by Y.Zsigo Demiurg by Mateusz Twardoch http://dreamframes.artstation.com/ Ode to Herne Oh, to dream of Herne and the pleasures there in, Lies a selkies dream of oak trees daubed in golden mistletoe. Tales tell of sweet honey nectar, Drawn from parasitic roots leaves and berries. Mabon be the child, That on the day of its kindling, Be bathed thrice in the sacred pools of Annwn. Harpies call to those such as these, That ponder plant life and poetic in their searching, Seek the gift of the Golden tongue. Taliesin’s tempered telling, told of tales, Twinkling in twilights tasting. Amergin quelled with rosemary rhymes, Of gifts to be taken, With those who dare to dawdle down dingily dells, Of dew drops dripping from the lips of the Queen of Fay. You my Queen of all hearts seeking, Who’s bed of pettaled pou porri pours pleasures on my thick skin. You the Queen of summers game , Wild huntress of the morning. Rise up from your Fairie fort and shower me in blessings. Wide eyed wandering wonderers of willow trees winding their spindling vines, Through nooks and crannies of old wives tales telling. Deep into this sodden earth and boulders of basilled breads burnt backing, Betrothing of their making. Worms of wooded wild wilderness, Intent on investigating. Baal and Bacchus,Dionysius dreaming, Arianrod, Hecate ,Demeter’s distant calling. Lead us through this Devic dance onwards towards your dwelling And there beside the Queen of Fay, My bed lies for the making.  The Initiation Before salvation comes damnation. It is in fact this descent into darkness that IS the Initiatory process. The place where all fears, pains and demons surface to devour the unwilling victim. There is never any guarantee of success, in fact if this process were not life threatening, it would not truly be Initiatory. Only when every last morsel of mortality has been devoured and the final spark of one’s essence is cast deep within the crooked pot. Only then when the Great Mother, the birther of souls, reduce's one’s spark to complete finality does the alchemical process truly occur. Only then when the last thought trembles and is lost, will she birth a new soul. Back up through the searing heat, gasping its first breath, into and beyond the gates of the 3 realms. Where the spirits of the sky decorate and dress the now dancing specter. Not in the attire of old, but instead in the gleaming new rags of the twice born. Now adorned in the bellowing ribbons of rebirth that float gently back down to the quivering earth. No longer alive or dying but instead revived, released from the land of the dimming lights. Changed, transformed, now unrecognizable, Except to the dark mother that birthed them.  |
