A poem from me to thee, with the chiefs permission.
Dec 15, 2016 19:19:50 GMT -5
Baboo, antb, and 2 more like this
Post by Motto on Dec 15, 2016 19:19:50 GMT -5
A PRAYER FROM ME TO THEE, IN LOVE , HOPE & PEACE.
IN THE LIGHT OF PIPERS FIRE.
As I puff this mild pipe, and its ashes slowly lengthen,
I feel my courage gather and my resolution strengthen:
I will smoke, and I will praise you, my pipe, and I will light you
With tobacco-phobic pamphlets by the learnéd prigs who fight you!
Let the parsons and philosophers grope in a wordy tangle,
May the angel baccy against devil weed by the law, wrangle.
Let those who want them scramble for their dignities or dollars,
Be millionnaires or magnates, or senators or scholars.
Even holy yogi's and brahmins too, and mandarins high,
Must learn the law of light is higher than their sky.
I will puff my mild pipe baccy, and I quietly will query,
May I never rest in words, day or night and not weary.
For I am ever destined and burdened a pilgrim to be,
No man is an island , for if thou breath the baccy , I am thee
In City , Town or wasteland, my breath will prove I am,
To ye I am ghostly pale , but to he that smokes , the lamb.
But not of night , for ye cannot conceal the light,
Lest the holy fire, invokes the sacred rite, no fight !
The mystic beads, reveal the will of the Lord of life,
It offends our suffering master to have evil strife!
The wrath of judgement is kindled in the waste of oil,
Sown for the anointing of the desert gardens soil.
May the anointed grieve for Mary of Syria , in the blood,
Of our Saviour as he is enthroned for saintly good.
Will the garden bloom in love or in the agony of the cross,
The sands of glass boxes reveal God's will or all is lost.
In the worldly Web of sand, sweeps the Divine wind,
Take my words not in vain , Lest ye loose your mind.
Creation is eternal , as generations fade and renew,
Deny the Holy logos, and the reaping will leave few.
If thee wander around the globe, then ye must anchor,
At the Church of your father's, or your soul will face the law.
With thanks to Arthur G., with a little help from my Lord.
IN THE LIGHT OF PIPERS FIRE.
As I puff this mild pipe, and its ashes slowly lengthen,
I feel my courage gather and my resolution strengthen:
I will smoke, and I will praise you, my pipe, and I will light you
With tobacco-phobic pamphlets by the learnéd prigs who fight you!
Let the parsons and philosophers grope in a wordy tangle,
May the angel baccy against devil weed by the law, wrangle.
Let those who want them scramble for their dignities or dollars,
Be millionnaires or magnates, or senators or scholars.
Even holy yogi's and brahmins too, and mandarins high,
Must learn the law of light is higher than their sky.
I will puff my mild pipe baccy, and I quietly will query,
May I never rest in words, day or night and not weary.
For I am ever destined and burdened a pilgrim to be,
No man is an island , for if thou breath the baccy , I am thee
In City , Town or wasteland, my breath will prove I am,
To ye I am ghostly pale , but to he that smokes , the lamb.
But not of night , for ye cannot conceal the light,
Lest the holy fire, invokes the sacred rite, no fight !
The mystic beads, reveal the will of the Lord of life,
It offends our suffering master to have evil strife!
The wrath of judgement is kindled in the waste of oil,
Sown for the anointing of the desert gardens soil.
May the anointed grieve for Mary of Syria , in the blood,
Of our Saviour as he is enthroned for saintly good.
Will the garden bloom in love or in the agony of the cross,
The sands of glass boxes reveal God's will or all is lost.
In the worldly Web of sand, sweeps the Divine wind,
Take my words not in vain , Lest ye loose your mind.
Creation is eternal , as generations fade and renew,
Deny the Holy logos, and the reaping will leave few.
If thee wander around the globe, then ye must anchor,
At the Church of your father's, or your soul will face the law.
With thanks to Arthur G., with a little help from my Lord.
