Showing posts with label vice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vice. Show all posts

Thursday, December 19, 2013

Will the Real Human Being Stand Up?


"What is Real? Real isn't how you are made... it's a thing that happens to you... it doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time... once you are Real you can't become unreal again... it lasts for always... He thought of those long, sunlit hours in the garden... the wonderful day when he first knew he was he was Real... of what use was it to be loved? And a real tear trickled down to the ground... Now you shall be Real to everyone... going to live forever. Once you are Real you can't be ugly except to people who don't understand..." - Margery Williams.

Beyond who we understand ourselves to be, beyond all the titles and descriptions is the real person. It takes a long period of concentrated effort to reach this maturation of self. This program requires critical self examination and judgement, to view and accept all the gross inadequacies and imperfections and then through the anvil of experience hammer them all into a whole being. The real living human is one who has walked through fire, evil and hate of the world, tasted the deepest fruits of sin and vice, been absorbed by discrimination and inequality, and ultimately has weighed and measured the length and breadth of themselves and found to be wanting. The recognition of this poverty is emergence, and transformation into a whole and complete human being. And thus this human being is capable of the greatest and most profound love and respect.

All Rights Reserved / Copyright: David John Drew 2013.

Friday, January 4, 2008

Pearly Prince: The Song of Crow


Pearly Prince: The Song of Crow, a poem by Lord Carville

Ever since I came across the spirit of a dead crow in one of my rambles in the countryside of my youth, the crow has been my totem animal and spiritual guide.

Who nicked the ruby gem of an Irish king?
Lone-Crow, who views the value not the price,
And pinched with snatch, hid beneath the darkened wing...
Who perched upon a dragons' nest yet thrice?
Subtle stealth of 'Crook-Claw': thefts his thing.
'Pick-a-Lock' of quick tricks, a well turned vice,
Virtue veiled, Master Villain of chance and gain.
Who guards the jewels and crown in Royal guise?
Good and bad to Mr. Crow are all the same,
Then shadow flies the crooked night with prize...
Hallowed booty bird of the Death Harvest Dame.

But...

Who loves Sir Jack, criminal with coal-hard eyes?
That petty-pecks at chaos, as if a silly game;
Pearly Lord, swift-trickster of diverse skies
He shuns good innocence and seeks Satan's flame
With a 'burial-caw' that duets the funerary cry!

And...

Where the hidden, twisted hoard of stolen gold...
Of ill-gotten wealth?
Perhaps,
Beneath the dream bed of Crow the Bold,

And...

With that I bid you good health.

All Rights Reserved & Copyright January 2008 David John Drew