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POEMS - Strange, Wonderful & Prophetic

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POEMS - Strange, Wonderful & Prophetic

 

 

THE REVIVAL OF MAGIC

It started in silence
in a small child’s room
‘Turn out the light, Timmy!’
But Timmy couldn’t hear.

The small lips moved slowly
And the quivering finger
Traced its way down the page
Bathed in a golden glow.

The story was vivid
And the magic alive
Inside an impressionable brain
Forgetting the need for sleep.

Meantime, sister Sue lay dreaming
Of Pop stars and millionaires.
The stuff of a thousand ad
Campaigns conceived in greed.

A confrontation was brewing.
And the world was about to change.
Slowly at first, but the new thing grows
While the old ways decay.

Lifestyle, the creed of a dead century
Was losing its grip
As lipstick lesbians and dotcom millionaires
Found their bank accounts vanishing

An unanswered need awoke from slumber
And horses rode out of the tangled forest
And into a public square
Forgotten once, and now everywhere.

Ancient wisdom was back
Old men in black hats
Respect for wisdom,
The fruit of years’ labors.

In such a time as this,
Who can worship a 16-year-old?
Goddess who knows just one thing,
How to dabble her make-up

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QUOTE (DrBubb @ Apr 9 2010, 10:05 AM)
THE REVIVAL OF MAGIC

It started in silence
in a small child’s room
‘Turn out the light, Timmy!’
But Timmy couldn’t hear.


Influences...

25 Nov'01 -

REVIVAL OF MAGIC / This poem spilled out today.

On Sundays, of often take a jog to a coffee shop a mile or
so away from where I live in London. I sit there and read
the papers, filling my mind with news of the day.
Today the paper had stories of Harry Potter and Lord of the
Rings. And other stories about how people are turning away
from glamour and ad revenues are falling. It occurred to me
that there may be a deeper connection between these two
disparate types of news.

While jogging back home, the title and the first few
lines of this poem formed in my mind. I suddenly felt an
amazing rush of adrenolin. And I knew that I had to finish it.

The world is changing, I think. ...and it is about time

+++

Wake up and smell the potion.
Britney's fading fast, and so is Mariah.
Madonna's being told to cover up by her hubby.
And anybody who thinks that rock-and-roll is here
to stay should hear Mick Jagger's latest embarrassment.
Even Bob Dylan has forgotten what his lyrics meant.
Can pop culture and teeny bopper survive in the
post Sept.11th world? Not without a makeover.

And ancient wisdom, so long buried, is rising up to
join a fight for the imagination of 11 year olds.
Wait ten years and see what kind of adults they will
be. Very different from their 18 year old sisters
who all dream of being pop stars, I surmise.

(It seems that things have changed since 2001, but not necessarily in the way that the poem anticipated.

People fought hard, very hard, to hold onto, and improve their "lifestyles", and that created huge housing and credit bubbles.)

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(this goes with a poem that I am trying to find)

 

THE TOWER

 

I used to work in the World Trade Center, North Tower. I remember

the long walk through the dark and crowded shopping maze and the

sudden emergence into a world of light. The real triumph of the building

was that it was so incredibly massive and yet when one stood at its foot,

awaiting transport upwards, there was a feeling of weightlessness.

The light and space around the elevators imbued one with a sense

of wonder. What joys were to be found at higher levels, when one felt

so airy on the ground?

 

The upwards journey came in stages, first to a landing half way up and

then a change of elevators for the final leg. The work-a-day trip on an

ordinary day would end on a large office, unremarkable apart from the

view. The occasional journey to the restaurant at the very top,

“Windows on the World” was a special treat, with the city laid out as if

in a dream, a monopoly board of buildings stretching along gray

roadways towards the breathing green of Central Park. People were

dots, too small to be seen as human. Cars and the inevitable traffic

jams in the distance were the sole connection to that mundane world

that had been left behind. Here one was truly a master of life, with a

god-like view of the world. The American dream realised.

 

I’ve been haunted the past few nights with brief but reocurring

nightmares. I can see myself in that old WTC office, surrounded by

desks and files. Strangely there are no people around. A passenger

jet appears as a speck and grows into a giant. Not surprising to see

an aircraft with Newark airport and JFK nearby. But this one flies

strangely. And as it grows in size it becomes a bird of prey. My

eyes widen and a cyclone of fear spirals from my gut as I see it

zoom into… Mercifully, it ends there. I am spared the unspeakable.

 

The other image that I have seen is from a distance. That tower

of magnificence, in a cloud of gray and black smoke. A rumbling

sound which I feel before I hear. Then the world collapses. The walls

undulate like a sheet in the wind and the skies rain debris of

unimaginable variety. The tower slides slowly down into the earth,

retreating into a subterranean abode, shedding its gray reptilian

skin as it goes.

 

These visions are without people. My nightmare is sparing me the

human tragedy, which is beyond what I can contemplate or express.

My heart stretches into a dry throat when I try to understand the

suffering of those gone and those left behind. I will leave that for

others with better words and better hearts and less haunted.

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20club - 14 Sep'01 (from Advfn)

 

I was speaking to a friend last night about the WTC attack.

She said that she had dreams two nights before it happened

about a passenger plane crashing into a large tower. She

mentioned in to her boyfriend, saying that she thought a plane

might crash into the Canary Wharf tower, the tallest building

in London. She didn't see a second plane in her dream.

 

This sort of dream came to her before the Piper Alpha disaster,

when she saw men in flames on a platform.

 

How can we explain these types of visions?

 

more: (this link is closed now):

http://communities.msn.com/PracticalPhilos...ID_Message=1345

 

MORE : Dreams before 9/11:

http://www.worlddreamspeacebridge.org/chapters11-12.pdf

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TWILIGHT OF THE GODS -

 

(a rewritten poem: a prophetic foretelling of 9/11?)

 

Now death is the portion of doomed men,

Red with blood the buildings of gods,

The sun turns black in the summer after,

Winds whine. Old ways wheeze away.

Earth sinks in the sea, the sun turns black,

Cast down from Heaven are the hot stars,

Fumes reek, into flames burst,

The sky itself is scorched with fire.

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Here's the rest of it:

 

TWILIGHT OF THE GODS

 

Now death is the portion of doomed men,
Red with blood the buildings of gods,
The sun turns black in the summer after,
Winds whine; Old ways wheeze away.

Earth sinks in the sea, the sun turns black,
Cast down from Heaven are the hot stars,
Fumes reek, into flames burst,
The sky itself is scorched with fire.

The breath of the hungry gods stood still,
As lost Silence roamed the planet,
Uneasy in his hopeless search,
For an innocence vanished without trace.

Peace his wandering sister was
Stranded on the burnt and damaged world
Waiting for her cousin Chaos
To deliver the final coupe-de-gras

/ "Peace lies down finally resting" before the world is restored /

Tired Chaos moves like an Ogre
And Peace lies down finally resting.
Silence stands grieving at grave side,
Vowing to take back all at night.

I see Earth rising a second time
Out of the foam, fair and green;
Down from the fells fish to capture,
Wings the eagle; waters flow.

Unsown acres shall harvests bear,
Evil be abolished, and Spring return
Yea, Summer’s feast will come again.
Wise gods gone, their will lives on.

Green shafts shout their bravado
In a wicked dance of life renewed.
Birds sing alone, in twos, then twenties,
Soaring beyond the bees in flowered fields.


By:
Voluspa / MJH
post #7: http://www.greenener...showtopic=16312

PLEASE NOTE THAT I POSTED THE ABOVE POEM
on a bulletin board on MSN about two weeks before the 9/11 disaster.
It was based on a poem called Voluspa*, a section of which I was trying re-write.
As I wrote it, I actually thought of the World Trade Center in flames.

The Story of Ragnarook : http://www.timelessm...e/ragnarok.html

 

(with some changes, at 9/ 2016 ):

 

A TWILIGHT FOR THE OLD GODS

 

Now death is the portion of doomed men,
Red with blood the buildings of gods,
The sun turns black in the summer after,
Winds whine; Old ways wheeze away.

Earth sinks in the sea, the sun turns black,
Cast down from Heaven are the hot stars,
Fumes reek, into flames burst,
The sky itself is scorched with fire.

The breath of the hungry gods stood still,
As dazed Silence roamed the planet,
Uneasy in his hopeless search,
For an innocence vanished without a trace.

Peace, his wandering sister was
Stranded on a burnt and damaged world
Waiting for her cousin Chaos
To deliver the final coupe-de-gras

Tired Chaos moves like an Ogre
And Peace lies down finally resting.
Silence stands grieving at her grave,
Vowing to take back all at night.

I see Earth rising a second time
Out of the foam, fair and green;
Down from the fells fish to capture,
Wings the eagle; waters flow.

Unsown acres shall harvests bear,
Evil be abolished, and Spring return
Yea, Summer’s feast will come again.
Wise gods gone, their will lives on.

Green shafts shout their bravado
In a wicked dance of life renewed.
Birds sing alone, in twos, then twenties,
Soaring beyond the bees in flowered fields.

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since you're posting again I wonder what the next event might be?

 

THE Event, maybe?

 

 

I see Earth rising a second time

Out of the foam, fair and green;

Down from the fells fish to capture,

Wings the eagle; waters flow.

 

Unsown acres shall harvests bear,

Evil be abolished, and Spring return

Yea, Summer’s feast will come again.

Wise gods gone, their will lives on.

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Twilight of the Gods has been publiished on Youtube

 

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This one, a re-recording, is getting a good response:

 

A Soldier's Winter : John Titor's Time Travel Poem

 

AFTER READING the poem, I talk about where it came from... John Titor, a Time Traveler?
======
John Titor, a possible Time Traveler was asked in 2001, if he could recall the lines of any poems from the future, beyond 2001.

He remembered three of the lines from the following poem:

.

A SOLDIER'S WINTER
Yesterday it did not snow.
The sun hung out as naked as a hollow ball on a Christmas tree,
seeming dead and motionless, a mere symbol, not a living being.
Where had all the joy gone, when so sorely needed?
I reached out thinking if only I could touch and feel the familiar,
then all would be right again, and my memories restored.
The color was all wrong. The once-yellow was now white-blue.
The skies themselves were like a cold vampire, sucking.
The trees are Strangers, leering, disapproving in the ash of winter
...My world, my life, my wandering path, has lost its way.
I felt so all alone, knowing what I knew, and seeing so clearly.
No one wants to share this vision; they all dance on,
Chanting a child's song, even as the music died.
When the joy was gone, they could still move on.
But now as robots, with zombie arms, and zombie legs,
And a zombie's dead heart, seeking heat, not love.
I could watch, but no longer join in, severed from their dreams.
I pray God's eyes may once again gaze upon me
and remind me that I am still His child.

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