The Password

Les ‘enfants’ Starseed se réveillent pour sauver le monde

WORDS IN THE LIGHT

Dreamlike landscape.
Poppy field near Argenteuil.
A place where star seeds grow.

Unfortunately
you cannot enter the Painting
unless you have the Password!

But if you open the Window
a child of the sky will whisper it softly
into your heart:

raindrops

emotion

illumination

.
.
.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Comme un tableau de Monet © 2018 – F.G.M.

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the Grain that Nurtures

Great One, God!
you once gave to us
the seed of a holy grain
the cereal for our souls
to be sown on the paths
of my peoples’ infamy
and for our return

the grain that nurtures
growing inside the
hearts of Your
elect as the Fertile Seed that
grows in even the
stoniest souls will Speak

Great One, Goddess!
show us your naked purity
Kalibur! your gaze is life!
We will not be men again
but be re-born as Gods
returning to our natural right

So! Let our hearts not be
frozen stone but stones made
of Your seed which is Light

Kalibur! your Elect lay claim
and love you;
Kaliber! by Death released
to Life under the Black Sun
from where my Race began
Kalibur! We are your Truth

©Ionwhite

the Vril Ladies are dancing

 

Great Lord, put your fingers in
my heart, I’m cold and I’m
exhausted O, my white body
hungers as I walk on Your
highways, singing songs in
Your forest chapels, I have
danced with Your Saints, begged
You to give them recovery

Great Lord here I am, won’t
you save my people hiding
among the oaks, wandering in
their martydom, O Great Lord won’t
you allow the men to come home,
will you give them recovery,
I don’t ask for your mercy,
but a thousand pardons

I walk in the Icelands among
pilgrims who hand over
their albatrosses for me to carry
their voices singing like thrushes
their faces lifted up to the sharp
cold homeland Sun,

surely here is Your storied Heaven on Earth
as the pale blue skies open to
the exaltations of birds as my words
cry to you, Lord Here we are let us
return, here we are before you we
are all singers in your mansions and
Seers among us will bring you
offerings of lamentings and prophecy,
the rest, their sturdy souls, Great Lord
in service to you, no longer patient
our poetry vibrating like the
night’s stars, our Vril haired ladies
are dancing their antennae calling
down the Light Angels, Great Lord
here we are, gallant and brave
before you

 

©Ionwhite

we all died for each other back then

 

We all died for each other back then!
Death came so suddenly, covering Berlin
Oma left her childish tears behind her
in Berlin, in Wuppertal, the snow
covered up her tears, and in summer
the leaves and roses absorbed them
leaving her tears behind she told me:

I was born of the most beautiful of mothers
Brought into this world on a bright
night in June, and blessed to be 
a German child, living as an angel in 
this world, even today I still see
hints of my lost  heaven, the paradise on earth
that was my childhood

Never forget, said Oma, and always remember
We all died for each other back then!

 

©IONWHITE

they alone hold the rain by it’s hand

Poets

I first learned to write in the notebook of suffering
if it’s God that chooses poets, then his mission
has no mercy. I have written many poems that
are not poems, they are pieces of my flesh removed
from an arm, a hand, a cheek, a thigh, a lip

I then learned to write in the notebook of love
this is the more difficult mission God has
decided to bind me with, there’s no escape
from love unlike suffering love will not be
denied whether happy, sad, or even indifferent

I have no idea where God will have me take
this light inside, but I hope I will be allowed
to live among the poets, the men who follow their
own rhythm, like the winds, wearing their grace

as they alone hold the rain by it’s hand.

©Ionwhite

Abschied, mein König

 

My immortal love he was without any fear

night after night, I shone for him no matter
what black winds or rains did come,
I shone for him alone as a beacon when
his nights became blurred by memory and
I did not allow the scars of battle to harm him
as I called forth the future, commanding it to
return to him,

on those cold nights he stroked
my body like it was made of flowers, searching
for diamonds inside my petals as I kissed away
all his pasts

My immortal love whispered so close to my
ear, his voice the sound of rustling reeds,
lightning moan, he was the wild eagle soaring
over me, so close to my ear, like an eternal
ocean, he was my king and I his queen while
we rode together on a foam crest of desire
shining and in full surrender

My immortal love with skylit skin, his pale
blue eyes assuring and in that moonlit moment
his entire reign hung from the petals of my
arms wrapped around him, offering full solace

My immortal love took me when the moon
was high, nightingales sang like angels
his sighs were as distant rolling of flutes
and drums, this was his sweet lullaby
as our bodies rocked and sang for the other
coming together as a river to ocean, his words
of love obscuring the contours of my flesh, my
reflection found inside his eyes upon me when
his wave roared around me, gently enfolding
salting, spraying my shell, filling me he rode
me to the shore

My Immortal love, my king, tonight
your empire is born from between my thighs

 

© Ionwhite

 

Memorial Day 2018

Memorial Day 2018

here where the desert sculpts
a song to his measure for
the soldier gone away
his women weep, walking dune
from dune they must chose
their words carefully and here
every day that is born from the
sands calls out to heaven for
salvation, here where the earth
is so thirsty for blood, mother
calls to son, oaths lifted to
Heaven and oh where is the One
who will resurrect the son to the
mother who have both gone away

here where the dunes shift and
slip reality is visible, the sand
is wet from the tears of
thousands women wailing
as they search for the bones
of husband, brother and son

the men are gone from here
where every day that is born
reveals lacerated hearts haunted
by a million invisible wounds

here the women gather in a circle
beneath the moonlight and stars
hiding their faces behind their hair

©Ionwhite

Memorial Day 2018

We’ve been at war in the Middle East most of my life. The war is 18 years old.

My daddy and my brother are both combat veterans. They came home thank God.

Our people have been cannon fodder fighting on behalf of foreign countries for too goddamn long.

The Deep State won’t stop unless we make them stop

NO MORE WAR.  NO MORE BROTHER WARS.