Tag Archives: poetry sucks

Dosis of Gnosis

abraxas1

Gnosis, God knows, is always hip—
be it ganja or a Hermann Hesse trip
(Demian deifying metamorphosis…)

appearing harmless until too late:
a terminal necrosis.

What for some was illumination—
for others dark neurosis,

is known experimentally
(or through osmosis).

The breath of divine enlightenment,
no mere halitosis,
may blow so hard the house implodes
in psychosis.

Thank God the Christ has come in flesh;
let this our mutual faith refresh
to break the cursed hypnosis.

ABRAXAS annunciation-1961

Gnostic Headrush


So then the Gnostic heresies issued in one of two beliefs. They believed either that Jesus was not really divine but simply one of a series of emanations from God, or that he was not in any sense human but a kind of phantom in the shape of a man. The Gnostic beliefs at one and the same time destroyed the real godhead and the real manhood of Jesus.
from: The Gospel of John  by  William Barclay (1955)

Gnosis reveals in reverberation:Gnosis
you’ve done too many bong hits.
You sprawl at the threshold of psychosis
until the shape of the song fits.

Your cannabis-flavored thoughts implode—
you glimpse the Divine Emanation
as the lesser vibrations diminish and die
now you enter the shrine of elation.

This rare revelation—imparted to you
(the neurotransmitters surge)
seems to show that you know, that you know, that you know
the deceptions of Demiurge…

abraxas1LINKED VERSION

Gnosis reveals in reverberation:
you’ve done too many bong hits.
You sprawl at the threshold of psychosis
until the shape of the song fits.

Your cannabis-flavored thoughts implode—
you glimpse the Divine Emanation
as the lesser vibrations diminish and die
now you enter the shrine of elation.

This rare revelation—imparted to you
(the neurotransmitters surge)
seems to show that you know that you know that you know
the deceptions of Demiurge..

Further DOSIS of GNOSIS  HERE

Gnoxious Gnostic Gnonsense

GNOSIS, my friends, is alive and well, corrupting the hearts of the masses. They fashion a fable to fit their need until their crisis passes. An idol from here and a text from there—just a little dabble do… for a do-it-yourself epiphany as the counterfeit passes through. They lose themselves in names and mantras, thinking they’re mining gold—while the god of this world enhances the shine of spiritual lies retold. So get out your old Santana records, pass the bong to the left. Listen to Jimi and Marley and worse; it will leave your soul bereft. It’s the same old trip. The first century has seen all of it come and go: such transcendent explosions of heresy are worth less than the price of the show. In the local body of Iesous Moshiach our pastor has faithfully showed us: nonsensical notions of Gnostic obnoxiousness fail to enlighten—but load us with half-truths and fantasies, cosmic conspiracies, spiritually false revelation which turn on the blacklight and dazzle the mind but maroon you in dark desolation. So I’d like to prepare you for several short poems exploring the way of the Gnostics. Though I love Elaine Pagels and Demian‘s Hesse, they fail to provide diagnostics.

 

Α♥Ω

IESOUSMOSHIACH

To a Progressive Poet

Your poems read as staggered prose;
the rhythm of the words escapes you.
One assumes, un-mused, you chose
a free-verse prison to run into.

You are modern. And it shows
in lack of structure, meter, beat.
Your emperor, set free of clothes
meanders on unsteady feet

exposed as naked, fending blows
from anarch subjects bored to tears
by cryptic, existential woes
and dreary imagery. One hears

within the verbiage you compose
a load of godless free-form tripe.
The lyrical ebb achieves new lows;
the scent is somewhat over-ripe…

Flux Danger