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the Green Man

As above, so in you:
the light, the warmth, the sky so blue;
and in the darkest of the nights
the stars that sparkle as they do...
the language of the 'Birds,' his secret tongue,
while silence is his noble one,
arises from a whirl'd within his heart,
and swells in awe throughout his Art...
this then is what we can say of Art,
that it's born of a heart pulsing wonder,
which blooms as leaf from deep-down under,
and bears a fruit for all to eat,
-- ambrosia, divinely sweet...




... 'spirituality' and 'creativity' are not limited to 'religious' practices, rather either may 'evolve' simply and naturally in an Artist/Mystic in tune with Nature. Oh well, sometimes you just gotta' say it simple, like country music, which'll go for the 'heart' and not the 'head' games - we all 'know' too much, so 'head' jobs become unsatisfying and cliche' in laconic irony, while poems ought to batter-the-head and pierce-the-heart with what you say... Philosophy is just an after-glow of what you think you know, whilst Poetry is a mirthful-daemon licking at your inner-ear swelling as a feeling of a visceral now and here; an infinite-in where deep calls to deep; there you listen to a music which only the heart can hear, spoken in that uncommonest of tongues, silence, a sweet language of Soul, which is an ancient-ache of Love ya' know ...

7 Jul 12

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"the Celts have him as Mythical figures such as Cernunnos, Sylvanus, Derg Corra, Green George, Jack in the green, John Barleycorn, Robin Goodfellow, Puck, and the Green Knight all partake of the Green Man's nature; it has also been suggested that the story of Robin Hood was born of the Green Man mythology. A more modern embodiment is found in Peter Pan, who enters the civilized world from a nether land, clothed in green leaves. Even Father Christmas, who was often shown wreathed in ivy in early depictions, has been suggested as a similar woodland spirit" (from Wikipedia)

-- the Green Man is the Mystic in tune with Nature living in Peace with plain and simple ways -- sHe is Natures urge to Wonder -- sHe is the Poet and the Heathen and the Saint of the Green Earth made by Natures divine immanence -- sHe is oft represented as the Hanged Man in the Tarot (upside down smiling a frown: invertendo man: inside out without a doubt) to realize that his Heart is in Heaven and his Head belongs to the ways of the Earth -- sHe also is shown as having 'roots' in the Heart, a trunk up the neck and a rich foliage of leaves in the head to represent the connectivity to a juicy Heart of Wonder bringing the sap of creativity to the Head synaptically fired in a coalescence of neurons springing suddenly into Awe -- Art is being in tune with Nature -- Nature is the heart of it all from whence we become her 'epiphanators' ...

WIKI: The Conference of the Birds (Persian: منطق الطیر, Mantiqu 't-Tayr, 1177) is a book of poems in Persian by Farid ud-Din Attar of approximately 4500 lines. The poem uses a journey by a group of 30 birds, led by a hoopoe as an allegory of a Sufi sheikh or master leading his pupils to enlightenment.

Besides being one of the most celebrated examples of Persian poetry, this book relies on a clever word play between the words Simorgh — a mysterious bird in Iranian mythology which is a symbol often found in sufi literature, and similar to the phoenix bird — and "si morgh" — meaning "thirty birds" in Persian.

    It was in China, late one moonless night,
    The Simorgh first appeared to mortal sight -
    He let a feather float down through the air,
    And rumours of its fame spread everywhere; [1]

Its most famous section is:

    Come you lost Atoms to your Centre draw,
    And be the Eternal Mirror that you saw:
    Rays that have wander'd into Darkness wide
    Return and back into your Sun subside

In mythology, medieval literature and occultism, the language of the birds is postulated as a mystical, perfect divine language, green language, adamic language, enochian language, angelic language or a mythical or magical language used by birds to communicate with the initiated.

... and the initiated have a divine 'seed' planted in their Hearts to bloom as leaf in where they 'ponder' and bear a fruit for all to eat, yes, ambrosia, divinely sweet ...
 — AlchemiA

there is no 'religion', only creativity. religious scenes are just theatre. poets invent god, so why should we care if somebody in fruitville puts a hat on his head and calls himself 'jesus'.

philosophy is an action, the negation of opinion. you work it to get rid of your illusions. after you've finished your notebook and are all clean and pure, you throw the book away and just make something from nothing for someone else. if it comes out in words and a pattern, and if people feel buzzed because of how it's written and want to write one too, then it's a poem. this thing you've unwrapped isn't a poem, it's an obituary for your lost talent. invent jesus, poet: raise your Lazarus from the dead. make art, not halos.
 — cadmium

All art is but imitation of nature
 — unknown

reminds me of the Type O' Negative song with the same title:

"Spring won't come, the need of strife
To struggle to be freed from hard ground
The evening mists that creep and crawl
Will drench me in dew and so drown
I'm the green man\"                       ;     P. Steele

nice poem.
 — JKWeb

tHanks Cad and JK -- parting lips:
a tongue whirls words with silence
in-between what we said and what we mean…
and we
hear infinity in the conch of our ears hissing there,
making us aware of rhythms deep inside;
while liquid last eyes
dare to see the numinous dissolving-us
into an ephemeral shining at the back of our mind,
illuminating the limits of the fatal skin-we're-in,
and they beckon us to taste, to drink and
to make within, their word-water into wine -
 — AlchemiA