Thank you for returning here to my blog that I thought I'd never update again.
I decided to return after a few people expressed interest in reading five of my poems that were selected for publishing in the first ever issue of Jolt magazine. I wrote all five in Guatemala, and most (if not all) of them in the last month during the one-month spirituality course I took called the "Moon Course," a real life-changing month to say the least. Anyways, here are the poems. Let me know your thoughts!
Poems Selected for Publishing by Jolt Magazine
By Sean Lawlor
Tikal
Upon the Mayan structures of Tikal,
monkeys howling songs across the Void,
harmonies unsung
calling closer inward,
friends at your side, illuminating
boundless perspectives
of IT.
Grass crackling from below,
gently animal feet crunching the blades
so softly,
the eerie twilight dew
latching onto their toes,
no nonsense can come to be
as the herbs of God and Goddess
are passed down the line of torches,
spindly fingers guided by the puppet strings above,
grasping the jaded mossy limestone
that founds these mythic structures
below my feet.
Upon the Mayan structures of Tikal,
monkeys howling songs across the Void,
harmonies unsung
calling closer inward,
friends at your side, illuminating
boundless perspectives
of IT.
Grass crackling from below,
gently animal feet crunching the blades
so softly,
the eerie twilight dew
latching onto their toes,
no nonsense can come to be
as the herbs of God and Goddess
are passed down the line of torches,
spindly fingers guided by the puppet strings above,
grasping the jaded mossy limestone
that founds these mythic structures
below my feet.
Motion
singing soft hymns
across the open meadow
I ponder delicate motion
as the sights change before my eyes,
blue I am told,
shades of the Sea and sand,
two brothers
meeting far beyond
the mountaintops,
volcanic lava exploding
upon the town of crimson hue,
that you and I may climb
the hills
and stop the ravage,
fire’s breath
does move upon the tortured Kid,
he limps along the cobblestone,
a road of wondrous
endless
creams.
Said loudly from behind,
a voice of Pleasure’s own,
know that she has many sounds
but still the Only face
that won’t be found
as she unfolds
her mystery
and we,
the Men,
can barely see
that no more will the travels bring
a light to shine, a heart to sing.
singing soft hymns
across the open meadow
I ponder delicate motion
as the sights change before my eyes,
blue I am told,
shades of the Sea and sand,
two brothers
meeting far beyond
the mountaintops,
volcanic lava exploding
upon the town of crimson hue,
that you and I may climb
the hills
and stop the ravage,
fire’s breath
does move upon the tortured Kid,
he limps along the cobblestone,
a road of wondrous
endless
creams.
Said loudly from behind,
a voice of Pleasure’s own,
know that she has many sounds
but still the Only face
that won’t be found
as she unfolds
her mystery
and we,
the Men,
can barely see
that no more will the travels bring
a light to shine, a heart to sing.
Up overlooking the Lake
On casual days
as I drift through the breeze,
the colors behind
my eyelids revealed,
I sail on my ship
to a faraway land
where no man may enter.
But standing up tall
I’m granted a vision
of flying above
the fullest terrain
of flowers in bloom,
of gardens, of groves,
of animals roaming
with humans below;
of lakes and of canyons
and valleys of green,
an aura in motion,
sight of the unseen.
And in my most strange
of dispositions
I wander the clouds,
the heavenly hues
of lilac descent,
divinity—Here!
and see all the hatred,
the lies, the despair,
like jagged roulette wheels
turning the weak,
the ignorant passing
through day’s long lament.
And as I am moved
to the spaces above,
I find all the beauty
so clear and so pure,
the light dancing off
of the crystalline surface
that all mud may settle
in the wellsprings below.
as I drift through the breeze,
the colors behind
my eyelids revealed,
I sail on my ship
to a faraway land
where no man may enter.
But standing up tall
I’m granted a vision
of flying above
the fullest terrain
of flowers in bloom,
of gardens, of groves,
of animals roaming
with humans below;
of lakes and of canyons
and valleys of green,
an aura in motion,
sight of the unseen.
And in my most strange
of dispositions
I wander the clouds,
the heavenly hues
of lilac descent,
divinity—Here!
and see all the hatred,
the lies, the despair,
like jagged roulette wheels
turning the weak,
the ignorant passing
through day’s long lament.
And as I am moved
to the spaces above,
I find all the beauty
so clear and so pure,
the light dancing off
of the crystalline surface
that all mud may settle
in the wellsprings below.
VII
See the crystal
feel the glass
absorb the heat
of falling trees,
Aztecs, Incas, Mayan Priests
adorned in gold
of Deities
who came to Earth
that all may be
within the wheel
to come and See
that falling through
the Mystery
will light the Way
to Purity.
See the crystal
feel the glass
absorb the heat
of falling trees,
Aztecs, Incas, Mayan Priests
adorned in gold
of Deities
who came to Earth
that all may be
within the wheel
to come and See
that falling through
the Mystery
will light the Way
to Purity.
Silent Lamentation
Sometimes I close
my eyes
off from the world
and plug my other senses
with my hand.
I look into the black
abyss
behind the eyelids closed
and see
the geometric tantric waves
of circularity.
They morph into
these blue doubloons
that rocket through the gentle night,
and I am thrust
beyond my pre-
conceptions of my limits.
But here below
the mucky ground
where angels postulate hypotheses
that World is always changing,
turning,
moving down the line,
my Silence holds its mastery
and sings a gentle lullaby
of energy
within the moving Sun.
my eyes
off from the world
and plug my other senses
with my hand.
I look into the black
abyss
behind the eyelids closed
and see
the geometric tantric waves
of circularity.
They morph into
these blue doubloons
that rocket through the gentle night,
and I am thrust
beyond my pre-
conceptions of my limits.
But here below
the mucky ground
where angels postulate hypotheses
that World is always changing,
turning,
moving down the line,
my Silence holds its mastery
and sings a gentle lullaby
of energy
within the moving Sun.
And this poem was actually selected to be published in February in a different magazine whose theme was “humor.” I wrote it on an airplane to San Diego.
Airplane Cocktail
Small 50mL bottle of Jack Daniels for five dollars.
Medium coffee complementary with the $300 plane ticket.
Two creamers.
Two packets of sugar.
Cup of water, to maintain good level of hydration.
Athenos baked Pita Chips to reduce bite.
Add creamers and sugar to coffee.
Stir for seven seconds.
Sip new concoction.
Settle into warm comfortable caffeine buzz.
When cup allows enough room, add 30mL of Jack.
Sip slowly, carefully.
Get used to the bite, and love it.
Once accustomed, add remainder of bottle.
Stir for seven seconds.
Utilize pita chips and water for particularly savage swallows.
Ignore judgmental passengers staring at you.
Pop in headphones, tune in, and drink.
Enter into harmony with 40,000 feet.
Medium coffee complementary with the $300 plane ticket.
Two creamers.
Two packets of sugar.
Cup of water, to maintain good level of hydration.
Athenos baked Pita Chips to reduce bite.
Add creamers and sugar to coffee.
Stir for seven seconds.
Sip new concoction.
Settle into warm comfortable caffeine buzz.
When cup allows enough room, add 30mL of Jack.
Sip slowly, carefully.
Get used to the bite, and love it.
Once accustomed, add remainder of bottle.
Stir for seven seconds.
Utilize pita chips and water for particularly savage swallows.
Ignore judgmental passengers staring at you.
Pop in headphones, tune in, and drink.
Enter into harmony with 40,000 feet.
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