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ORION SPEAKS
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It would take too much time to tell the tall man all the mighty moments he had stored
Aboard the centrifugal, the stargate frugal, the narrowest way known to heaven
And he surrounded with adorned pleasure, only this the measure of a stargaze warp
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And Delaware, a mystic rose whose gown floats above any battle-scarred morning
She of sweeter disposition, she strong, mighty in battle, like a Boadicea on her chariot
Golden as the palace of Versailles where all is wooden like chess pieces in a drama
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We are always just voyeurs, stepping in and then stepping out, uncertain, yet nervous
Like two small children faced with the problem of adulthood bearing down upon us
No wonder Gerollitas’ generation had that real problem with acceptance and worth
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I have missed your warm smile and your attention, I digress to the point of annihilation
Only smooth talkers, aristocrats and charlatans eventually find a way with words
The rest of us struggle like warm wasps on the scent of Mexican hunny or fresh apples
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The accolade interrupted by moon-worshippers heading west to greet a ‘brand new day’
Where sonnets roll around the yard like blue grass tumbleweed, hogs snort contented
And all this while, sound Orion’s gassy surface pumps light into our chosen hemisphere
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A madrigal plays on softly, borrowed from another time and the latin quarter
Herecles still spinning wool, has surrendered his club to serve Lardanus’s daughter
Even great legends like Hercules or JFK can bow submissive to passions disorder
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And there’s always a silly wren hopping around inconstant and shallow as a limpet
Clouds can be so disarming, vivacious, yet threaten, they are prone to characterisation
Dispassionate, an undervalued word in a psychiatric world where ambiguity is desired
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The choices we make, so often strapped to Orion’s belt, drifting ever so slightly
Orion, caught in the dark sky awaiting the makers time to throw off his hunters caution
Climb the seven steps, jettison the seven stars, the sisters who are tied to Orion’s girth
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Ainitak, Ainilam and Mintaka beautiful names three, but were these the names chosen?
Or the names spoken of in the great counsel where sit the elders golden, twenty four?
Who cast their crowns down by virtue of their knowledge of Job’s understandable folly
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O bright counsel informs the stars brighter than the planets, the knowledge of the free
O marvellous reason that unfolds the seasons to offer words of hope to the bold Orion
Caught in Samson’s madness, overcome by the sadness only the pure must endure
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Arise, shake off the morning, pledge the moon, salute the burning sun and stars,
Write words in sand, travel long, acknowledge now that time like Orion is not free
Run to greet the crashing waves of futures dawning, surely Orion’s summer has come
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The sisters sound the warning, cascading and drawing, lines of perspective in the sky
We learn much from tales of splendour, prophets candour, the rigmarole of anger
An unfurled banner, as Apollo’s lie and bad manners direct Artemis’s arrows as they fly
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The arena of consequence is now settled like an evening sky, the band play Perfidia
Even Orion cursed by this polygamy of treachery and betrayal awaits his redemption
The old man of the night bound by satans light, cross-referenced to his heathen plight
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The dichotomy of reason hides so well the magical and submissive virtue that was Isaac
History’s vaults released some 10, some 20, yet the unknown is also known by its father
The truth set free for all to see attended by the spill of wine, sounds of joyous laughter
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Collect the pages now, assemble them in order, bind them down with cord and gum
Clear the back room, Gallileo’s horn points t’ward the sky, Caxton’s press of ink runs dry
Guttenberg, a godlike hero like Alexander Graham Bell, Newton, Maximillian Schell?
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Absurdity, nestles in with honesty and valour, frailty and discord find no place in Valhalla
Asgaard’s mountains resound with echoes of heroes fallen, not tales of treachery
Within such silver vaults, Orion and the brothers walk and talk of mankind’s destiny
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There is not time to tell of all embroidered yarns, plaitted curls on Adam’s tattoed earth
Or book a seat alongside mother Eve, watch commentary of her iconic, anguished birth
The globe turns slowly for the lost and lonely who look hard for the noble and holy
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Orion speaks into a chaos, a catastrophe, centred around metropolis’s pained contusion
We all sit, full of learning in the counsel of King Arthur, knights who wait for their end
Summon Jupiter, Methuselah, Odin’s son, the counsel of the wise, armed with weapons of iron
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Hammer the breastplate, gild the helmet, mount the white horse, rouse the sentry
Here we, masters of our inheritance, regal champions who slew Behemoth in turn
Circle like crows beneath the dome of Andromeda, afeared the hunters beak and claw
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There steps forth then, as bold to speak, from out the carbon skies
One who has listened deep and cold to many stories, myths, and to their many lies
Not a fourth comforter whose disgrace and pain of shame never were well hidden
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A bright star listed in the book written by the heart of god if not by his injured hand
Collected words from a sorry band of misfits, harlequin and humbled rogues
Who in their weakness and their folly, sowed frailty and brokenness, to cut a slice of holy
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Orion speaks for those with fears, for those who stand a little nervous in Jibrails hall
For those who stepped outside the tent, whose eyes arched away from heaven
Who true of heart, enjoy the strangest loyalty to Pleiades band of seven
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Listen now ye coldest moon who lights the bleakest beacon and ye dumb Trojan horse
Whose wooden, blanket eyes hide the stench of good men stolen, listen as Orion speaks
He understands your treason, shows pity, understanding, God’s mercy, bronze-swollen
edenbraytoday
Ref. 02092020
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#AUTHOR’S NOTE
In common with a lot of my recent work and in part motivated by a habit I picked up during my recent CV-19 Isolation, I have taken to writing a kind of PREQUEL – FOREWARD – an ‘AFTERWARD’ if you will but at any rate an Author’s ‘comment’.
I do this, not by way of translation but rather as a suggestion or possibly a more attainable connection. Poetry is actually how I prefer to communicate with others but its a hard language with which to develop relationships.
‘ORION SPEAKS’ as a written piece has been brewing a long time inside and I’m still not sure its finished. ‘Distilling’ may actually be a better choice of word than brewing.
It forms a ‘pair’ with the TRIALS OF MILES BLACKMAN which I also may open up and work some more on. A POEM is a sculpture that is never finished, a story that really has no conclusion. There may even be a 3rd Part to follow.
ORION is a mannequin upon which to hang my clothes and it might also be termed ‘autobiographical’, I’m not certain I can claim that.
Can you step away from EARTH for a brief ten minutes to view the stars and ‘listen’?
Can you search your soul for one brief hour and consider in truth our beginning?
ORION has been important throughout the story of mankind. ORION SPEAKS and has spoken to many generations.
edenbraytoday – 3rd. August 2020
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REFERENCE GLOSSARY:
PSALM 147:4
He determines the number of the stars; he gives to all of them their names.
JOB 38:31
“Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades or loose the cords of Orion?”
JOB 38:1-41
Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind and said: “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Dress for action like a man; I will question you, and you make it known to me. “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements—surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? …
AMOS 5:8
He who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning and darkens the day into night, who calls for the waters of the sea and pours them out on the surface of the earth, the Lord is his name; AMOS
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The Orion Arm is a minor spiral arm of the Milky Way Galaxy that is 3,500 light-years (1,100 parsecs) across and approximately 10,000 light-years (3,100 parsecs) in length, containing the Solar System, including Earth.
Orion’s Belt or the Belt of Orion, also known as the Three Kings or Three Sisters, is an asterism in the constellation Orion. It consists of the three bright stars Alnitak, Alnilamand Mintaka. Looking for Orion’s Belt in the night sky is the easiest way to locate Orion in the sky.
Which star shines the brightest?Sirius ASirius A and B. The brightest star in the sky is Sirius, also known as the “Dog Star” or, more officially, Alpha Canis Majoris, for its position in the constellation Canis Major. Sirius is a binary star dominated by a luminous main sequence star, Sirius A, with an apparent magnitude of -1.46.
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“Over 25,000 individual measures of the Pleiades stars are now available, and their study led to the important discovery that the whole cluster is moving in a southeasterly direction. The Pleiades stars may thus be compared to a swarm of birds, flying together to a distant goal. This leaves no doubt that the Pleiades are not a temporary or accidental agglomeration of stars, but a system in which the stars are bound together by a close kinship.” From our perspective on Earth, the Pleiades will not change in appearance; these stars are marching together in formation toward the same destination, bound in unison, just as God described them.
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Two of the greatest of its stars, Betelgeuse and Rigel, possess, as far as has been ascertained, no perceptible motion across the line of sight, but there is a little movement perceptible in the ‘Belt.’ At the present time this consists of an almost perfect straight line, a row of second-magnitude stars about equally spaced and of the most striking beauty. In the course of time, however, the two right-hand stars, Mintaka and Alnilam (how fine are these Arabic star names!) will approach each other and form a naked-eye double, but the third, Alnita, will drift away eastward, so that the ‘Belt’ will no longer exist.” Unlike the Pleaides clusters, the stars in the band of Orion do not share a common trajectory. In the course of time, Orion’s belt will be loosened just as God told Job.
ORION and
ARTEMIS
OUTTAKES ~ 04 – Guilt never wears a happy face!
OUTTAKES – 04
I’ve been in the attic, I’ve been in the cellar, I raided my notebooks –I’M HAVING A YARD SALE – It’s a Car Boot – THEY’RE UNFINISHED LINES, unfinished poems, POEMS THAT MISSED OUT ON PREVIOUS RETROSPECTIVES, good ideas, BAD IDEES, inspiration, OR JUST GOOD TITLES, abortive attempts – IM CLEARING THE BACKLOG – opening up the storehouse – IT’S A COLONIC IRRIGATION – an enema – I’M MILKING THE PAPS – so mother writer’s milk might flow through fresh again!
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GUILT NEVER WEARS A HAPPY FACE
Setting aside our current concerns over Covid-19, people of today get paranoid about a number of relatively illogical things, depending on your point of view or your particular peccadillo. From the dangers of passive smoking, through asbestos poisoning and wells disease to the many and varied phobias including the usual and familiar, like claustrophobia, aracnaphobia and onto those even more extreme than the likes of brontophobia (fear of thunderstorms) or mysophobia (fear of germs)!
However damaging the subject of these rattlesnake fears may be to their victims, none of them can ever be as controlling or debilitating than the inner curse that is the nub of that mischievous little 5-letter symptomia known as – guilt (cue – flashing thunder and scary music please) … Psychologists, psychoanalysts, fundamentalist Christians theologians, Catholic priests and basically most world religions teachers, philosophers, political leaders and social analysts would all give you differing, possibly predictable but non the less worthy responses to the age old question, what is guilt?
Edenbray is not here today to catalogue, reiterate, confirm or criticise these many well documented beliefs or respected, proven and accepted diagnosis. No, today I just want to simply take a cool, long and hard look in the eye of the little blighter. This annoying, secretive parasite of the human psyche that can burrow its way into the human mind and soul and grow to such an unhealthy scale that apparently, it can help create mass murderers, serial killers and psychoanalytic nightmares of the weirdest and strangest order, yet for the most of us ( hastily he separates himself from the earlier list ) guilt has at the least, been the cause of not a few arguments, both inner and vocalised, has wrought untold emotional pain and angst and contributed to not a few very stupid actions and reactions. Or am I the only one?
Deny guilt has a say in your life to your peril my friend, for this devious little ‘shit’ will gnaw out your very soul right in the fleshy centre of that denial and at the very least ruin many a pleasant afternoon stroll or even a healthy game of scrabble. No, joking aside, we are not all psychopathic monsters riddled with parent-induced, strict religious guilt but we all do on some scale or other, fall prey from time to time, to the little monster known as ‘guilt’.
#Note :~ the word guilt rhymes with ‘quilt’ which seems kind of poetic as squares of guilt when sewn together will eventually grow into huge proportions in much the same way as a patchwork quilt??
It has to be said that bed linen may not actually disguise guilt but it could be seen to cover those many acts of unfaithfulness and deceit that can easily lead to one very common cause of guilt. In my search to determine what guilt actually looks like, I have decided to organise an ‘identikit’ operation that hopefully will lead to a kind of IDENTITY PARADE and to eventually single out the little shit. We may then stitch these patchwork cameo’s of ‘guilt’ together and ultimately learn to recognise the traits of this insidious little demon known as ‘guilt’.
Guilt never has a happy face
We may process what we know about guilt more by what we know it doesn’t look like than what it does. For example true guilt never has a happy face, nor is it particularly attractive. It may smile but that smile mostly turns out to be little more than a sneer. G.u.i.l.t can never really be beachball jolly, I’m sorry but that’s the way it is!
When we have eventually singled ‘guilt’ out, isolated it, named it and shamed it we may begin to ask – How did we ever fall prey to its wiles and devious schemes? How did we let this little phsyco bully us, invade us, worry us, negatively influence us and ultimately dominate us.
Paragons of un-virtue will interlude at this point that they have no truck with this ‘pious’, self-righteous and shameless little roadster. ‘I feel no guilt’ is the monogram on many a playboys shorts, embezzlers wallet or dodgy tradesmen’s van. Any shyster, con-artist or on a bawdy tarts bra and knickers, if she wears any. To these and all those who manage to control their inner voices like Al Capone wielding a baseball bat, they will maintain they remain ‘guiltless’, yet guilt still remains an Alien in our midst, under our skin and inside our heads and personally should I ever meet such a one, face to face, he’ll get short shrift from my particular maple bat as I’m certainly not one of those to entertain the notion of change, open-mindedness or to willingly allow any one, sick, psycho to influence my life or actions.
So this essay on guilt is clearly aimed at those who believe in visitors from out of space or that have already met the slimy little monster with a head full of teeth whose name begins with a ‘gee’ and ends with a ‘tee’.
Yes, guilt my friend affects us all I would propose at some time or other, even the supposed ‘guiltless’ and while guilt is not beautiful, alluring, pretty, handsome or desirable it is not necessarily ugly either, in the same way as say a malignant cancer’s physical appearance to the naked eye can be mute and non-alarming.
The problem with guilt is that it nags like a puss-filled boil, an insect bite, a domineering wife, husband or partner. It chaffs and worries us like a hungry baby, a pain in the groin or an unpaid bill. Until we meet its demands, it hangs over us like a blackmailer with the darkest of our secrets. It sends messages with devious cunning that we uncover in the unlikeliest moments. It can make us act strange and if we bury it deep, it leaves molehills on the surface of our landscaped lives to remind us it has escaped and is still roaming ‘out there’, dangerous, naked and free.
Guilt is no respecter of a persons age, background or social standing and people caught in its spidery web resort to the strangest, wildest, most diabolic recourse to remove its incessant taunts. You might say its vengeance is extreme.
Guilt does not let you be your ‘real’ self
Guilt hides away in the crevices of the human heart and the folds of the human brain and teaches us to do likewise. It is a skeleton in the closet, a ghost in the dark night, a rat in the attic – appearing at moments when you think it may has gone for good. Guilt is ‘your’ secret, even though you hide it so well, or you think you did. You’re better off without it but how do you ‘out’ it and how do you get the alien ‘out of the closet’? How do you set that particular demon free? It’s a dilemma and no mistake and one that keeps a whole lotta’ people in work.
Multiple analysts, counsellors, doctors, priests – all earn a good living dealing with other peoples guilt …. So how do we cut loose from this fettered monster? Choose your poison. Maybe we should all learn to become a bit more honest about the things that make us feel guilty. Drag them screaming out into the light of day and expose them for what they are. Make coffee-time with your friends your personal confessional. Come on, get it off your chest, you know you want to and you might be surprised where it will all lead, just a little of that good old heartfelt honesty. Maybe people will find you a lot more interesting. It might turn out a real turn-on for them or maybe they will recognise you are human after all and a lot more like themselves than they had realised. Open the cage and step out into the light my friends.
Right then whose first?
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