like koans
halting in their tracks
your logical thought
processes like a train, black and long
when it runs in a padded room
small, silent, white
Written ca. 2006
like koans
halting in their tracks
your logical thought
processes like a train, black and long
when it runs in a padded room
small, silent, white
Written ca. 2006
Filed under Poetry
Tagged as esoteric poetry, metaphysical poetry, mystical poetry, philosophical poetry, religious poetry, spiritual poetry
the angel called out to me
Recite!
But I said,
“what will I recite with these unclean lips? “
So the angel ripped my larynx
out of my throat
and set it on fire
until it burned to ashes
then I began to recite
ca. 2011
is it my age-old blasphemies
that keep you at arm’s length?
screaming for life
begging for bread
i sit by the silence
wrapped in the shade
the glories of youthful dreams
beautifully fade
my name in lights
my name tonight
forgotten
if for a moment
if i could hold it tight
if i could only make love to my demise
open to skies
swim in your eyes
with the rest of the teeming sea
of humanity
lost
ca. 2011
On a world with no moon I pondered deeply on a starless night
Wondering what happened when the sun fell silent with the light
And yet the black sky told no story, no star-man seen with belt alight
Orion quiet as the darkness still, unthought, unformed
Not because of clouds or want of sight was my world formed in darkness
But because the sun had gone and was the only light
The nearest star was just too far, and so to me had never been
Like I must be to it as if it were I wasn’t born
All the light I knew this night was fire; fire was my own
Nothing out beyond myself had gave this fire or had shown
One sign of having helped me strike the tinder into flame
I didn’t even know it “fire”, knew it by no name
On a world with no moon, no stars, no clouds, no name
I forgot there was a sun
but it was all the same
Filed under Poetry
Tagged as esoteric poems, esoteric poetry, Esoteric poets, metaphysical poems, metaphysical poetry, Metaphysical poets, mystical poems, mystical poetry, Mystical poets, occult poems, occult poet, occult poetry, occult poets, religious poetry, spiritual poems, spiritual poetry, Spiritual poets
Money protect Me, for i am of money
Power protect all your children who love You
may it be always, that we remain one
till’ all accounts settle, and we transform into none
passion for poem, wanton weakness in words
I am nothing
like anything
you think you have heard
chaos of rough draft
order adds on each edit
I give bread, and give breath, and you give me no credit
my father, my father, tell me why did you leave me?
the lust of a dust castle
seduced, she bereaved me
she robbed me of every singed hair, I remember
she left through the cold chimney late in December
I struggled to speak, in a world without ears
I sought long for weeping, but never found tears
I the day, I the night
I am time before years
I the moon
I the sun
I your most hopeful fear
Me is not I, unless words could deceive us
my bitterness feeds on the truth that you leave us
you leave and have left, and are leaving again
Me equals Us, and you leave us my friend
not leaving or coming, see
I’ve all come and left
I have no where to go, I have no where to nest
no bed and no pillow
no blanket or tree
you refuse to accept that my rest is with me
don’t tease me
or mock, with your promise of wages
you, the dumb-deaf demise of our weak-minded sages
you, insisting we work seven days of the week
you leave my hand empty and return me to the streets
it is for want of a road
you must sleep in the streets
I offer you rest, but you are always asleep
I ask you to walk
Your sun crumbled your feet
I ask you to walk
so you severed your wings
ca. 2006
i insist on suffocating slowly
still
i refuse to die
imposing my will to weakness
avoiding applying the “why”
implications are closing in, oppressive
my mind is open, fluid
suggestive
interposing meaning and form with
the spoken and written letter
the light source filtered through all this
wreckage
the squeaking moving in, oppressive
regressive, the way my vantage remains
a disjointed unit-whole
you persist, and i suffocate quickly
you ask so nicely for me to die
deposing my God damned will to power
why do i seem to avoid the “apply”?
THE SYMBOL ON MY HAND IS BURNING
into the flesh, and back out from inside
illuminates Prison, a chasm, a prism
dividing a spectrum of impossible light
we wholly refract the soma, the psyche
The Panic transforms into beauty inane
compulsion, obsession, redemption, addiction
we know we’re alive
we perpetuate pain
ca. 2006
worlds within
and without are all waning
insatiable
chaos
vacuum
the void
which sat between heavens
heavens splitting the waters
the waters, the weeds
create living geometries
etch-a-sketch drawings
of silent mandalas
now the dreamweaver
lotus
now the lucid unwaking ones
who appear at your bedside
disdaining your closet
while you lie
awake
sleeping
hypnogogically paralyzed
their eyes burning green
freeze your skies
red
as
Christ
comes
you
trapped in misogamy
you
flying through tattered air
you
stoned off this oxygen
burned by the stare
of a mirror
ca. 2006
Filed under Poetry
Tagged as esoteric poems, esoteric poetry, Esoteric poets, Existential poems, metaphysical poems, metaphysical poetry, Metaphysical poets, mystical poems, mystical poetry, Mystical poets, occult poems, occult poet, occult poetry, occult poets, religious poetry, spiritual poems, spiritual poetry, Spiritual poets
i’ve grown weary
of this story
growing
weary
of this frame
oh so weary
of this cosmos
in which I got this name
and I can’t remember why I came
I’m fearful for the leaving
can’t seem to quit the game
oh how I love this loathsome body
I carry with me night and day
and when I look into the mirror
I see a stranger face
sweet solace sought in speaking
my wearisome refrain
no rest foreseen in sleeping
if I must wake again
in lukewarm purgatory
on waves that toss and strain
in sitcoms just repeating
weary lines and jokes again
and again
I’ve grown weary
of this story
growing
weary
of this frame
oh so weary
of this cosmos
in which I got this name
and I can’t remember why I came
I’m fearful for the leaving
can’t seem to quit the game
oh how I love this loathsome body
I carry with me night and day
and when I look into the mirror
I see a stranger face
sweet solace sought in speaking
my wearisome refrain
no rest foreseen in sleeping
if I must wake again
in lukewarm purgatory
on waves that toss and strain
in sitcoms just repeating
weary lines and jokes again
and again
~ justin aptaker, 1/6/2018
Filed under Poetry
Tagged as Existential poems, Existential poetry, Existential poets, religious poetry, spiritual poems, spiritual poetry, Spiritual poets
come now
i welcome you
and as the sign of my invitation
i’ll smear some of my blood over my thoughts
before i write them down
come burning
like the ember at the end of my cigarette
which i burn ritualistically
like a sacrifice for sin
come, i’ll slay swine and serpents
to lay out for you
forgive me, it is all i have to give
but i understand that it is the sincerity of the giving
and not the gift
which you desire
and for your thirst
i’ll give a bitter gall
that is all
i have, for your thirst or for mine
but come
come in time
i pine
away
like every day
you ever made
i ask for no angels to herald your arrival
lest wiser men arrive
and present you with better gifts
than i can afford
come Lord
ca. 2011 – 2012
Filed under Poetry
Tagged as christian poetry, esoteric poems, esoteric poetry, Esoteric poets, Existential poems, Existential poetry, Existential poets, metaphysical poetry, mystical poems, mystical poetry, Mystical poets, neopagan poetry, occult poems, occult poet, occult poetry, occult poets, pagan poetry, religious poetry, spiritual poems, spiritual poetry, Spiritual poets