transitionu

Life Coaching, Observations, Reflections, Things that make you go hmmmmm

Tag Archives: Spirituality

Curios

Curios

Curios

Curios

Mine is mine and to each their own
so whom are we to pass judgement

One’s choices predicated upon
by how you my dear individual perceive

Reapers, the purveyors of goods grim
honouring both dollar and ritual

But just because you can
does it mean you should indulge the macabre

Incendiary with a highly volatile fuse
fostering unspoken mortification

Done from love by loss
as inherently personal as love’s little death

Memories tactile, both taking away
and in embracing the pain

Open wide to holding up a mirror
reflection upon your hurting self

Morbid, magnificent, maudlin, majestic
what else could be said of selections such

Each and every with their unique curio
memory memorabilia a curious thing

Nature ‘tis of we mournful beasts
displaying in so many ways

Turning cheek, both other and off if you please
my crass, your cats ass

One tap, two tap, three, forever remains in me

G.R. Hambley ©
June 01, 2017

I made an error in formatting on the original post. The error is now corrected. The poetry has not changed.

Spinsters – Lyric

Spinsters

Lyric

Spinsters Fini 01

What you’re seeing is the font I write in. I’ve never been enamoured  with the formatting options here at WP so on occasion, I work around the lack of options.

Spinsters

Stories making the rounds
none to be believed
none to be trusted
careful not to get busted

Those new age spinsters
dishing up their gospel
dishing up who’s in hospital
careful not to go to hell

Telling you what you should
dirt found on every track
dirt found in every attack
careful not to take it in the back

got yourself busted
took yourself to hell
won’t be coming back
Spinning hucksters wheel going round and round
Running freedom down in to the ground

Round and round…

Down in to the ground…

Going to take more than a frown…

Spew in streaming sensaround
feel that whole mind invasion
feel that total frustration
mold to fit the compilation

Spoon feeding the grand plan
using grins from ear to ear
using anything that will adhere
mold never stops injecting fear

Making the conscious beginning
listen to that self interested person
listen to that warning of treason
mold resolve to your reason

turn your dial to decompile
take hold of your fear
fill your head with reason
Spinning hucksters wheel going round and round
Running freedom down in to the ground

Round and round…

Down in to the ground…

Going to take more than a frown…

G.R. Hambley ©
April 22, 2017

Transmogrification – Sonnet

Transmogrification

Sonnet

Travails in justification, the mire of the mind in mutation, perhaps
How it fluctuated, took to morphing without coalescing
Estranged in nature’s abhorrent space, black holes materialize
Preposterous, light so bleak bending, breaking, emerging anew
Reflections reverberate in cognisance, pierce the consciousness traps
Once begun, pray that such a state be only dream within dreaming
Preposterous, real concern, nouveau reality, doubts arise
Once begun, one, only one able to convey passage safely through
Step thee back, take thine passage through the passage of bygone
Insistent insipids traipsing in, muddy thoughts you must know in tow
Thundering head, racing heart, change’s inescapable plight
Indomitable chiselers, grey chips and chunks rebound from bone
Once begun, these manic mechanics never let the ride slow
Nary a peep through sublimation, behold you; a keeper of the right rite

G.R. Hambley ©
April 01, 2017

To change in appearance or form, especially strangely or grotesquely; transform.

Angels Obliged Act III

Angels Obliged

Angels Obliged Act I Angels Obliged Act II

Act III

Darkness begins its eerie silent descent
Moans with prayers, the wounded lament
Stench rising off seared and rotting flesh

Morning’s breaks early for the two above
Notice made to the two under sacred grove
Readied, willing and oh so capable to kill

Speed the key to having the first heads fall
Swords on a horse’s wings will reduce the thrall
Hell’s keeper rides upon enchanted steed

Angels two, attacking these evil’s doing
Angels two, dispatching those beyond hell

Evils shaking off the debauchery of the night
Unaware, heaven and hell added to their plight
Heaven’s thunder beats, hell begins to quake

Books of prophets false held proudly on high
Zealots unholy, prodding the evils killing drive
Death wings come slicing, guillotine with hooves

Just beginning to learn what they’ve brought
Payment now due in full for what they bought
Bile violently spews as books in severed hands fall

Angels two, horrifying these evil’s doing
Angels two, threshing those beyond hell

One from the depths attacks where the evils creep
Horn of the magical beast impales, blood seeps
Blue fire from the one named Demon erupts

Lightning chains turning the living to charred
Pain and suffering ordered carried to the beyond
Horns of both beasts stained, dripping the evil’s flesh

Some standing stunned among smoldering remains
Others swarm to the call of false prophet claims
Many more to feel the strikes and stings, an absolute

Angels together, razing these evil’s doing
Angels apart, bleeding out those beyond hell

Massing together, evils three in shared horror
Who’s will dare intrude on the destined honour
Cries lifted to the one, deliver them the way rite

Wings from above settle below beside the horned
Back to back and quarter to quarter we’re formed
They come, they fall, the evils and their books no more

Angels scarred, side by side, majikal steeds torn
Retreating through the mutilated evils with scorn
Tears fall gently from the tortured soul of The One

Angels obliged, destroyed the evil’s doing
Angels obliged, new light made beyond hell

End Act III

End all Acts

G.R. Hambley ©
May 12, 2016

Chronological Posting List

It was, “Because You Asked”

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Handwritten.”

Been a while since I’ve done it. There are a couple others that came after this but I just don’t happen to have that writing book with me right now.

Come to think of it I haven’t written in my journal for a while either. That would be the leather covered item with a high quality 1/2 size paper that I do not share with anyone.

When I write by hand the discipline is different. I do mean discipline too. When it goes down on the page that is how I want it to stay. I don’t like stroking things out and replacing what I’ve put down on the page. I think about it, I don’t use my thesaurus, I don’t wite it down elsewhere and transfer what I wrote. That would be copying not writing by hand!

I like the feel of the pen in my hand and the stark beauty of the blank page. I even have a pen that only I use. I will not let anyone else use my pen. You can see my pen in this piece. “Weapons Of Mass Persuasion“.

The piece written by hand and transferred to the electronic is up on site, “Because You Asked” is the name.

Because you asked fini

Another I wrote by hand and transferred to the electronic is, “Because We Are“. This one is in Acrostic.

G.R. Hambley – all rights reserved
September 11, 2015

Once Upon A Sky

Once Upon A Sky

This like most of what I write has poignancy. This is for a lion named Cecil killed by a man in Minnesota named Walter Palmer with a major disconnect. I have a lot to say after the poetry on photograph.

Once Upon A Sky Post

~.~.~.~.~

Awakening gently from a late summer’s after picnic nap
Consciousness comes creeping, deliberately, deliciously, alive
Limbs sun warmed, face burnished bronze, sleep rubbed away
Overhead a world unto itself drifts, white with powder blue
Under meringue peaks, lake glimmers, sparkles, winks knowingly
Day to tuck safely away in mind for a chill fireplace night

Shapes form, they come to this, they go to that, dance for my delight
There was that, now there’s this, something new wafting in to view
Roses on rhinos, sombreros on seahorses, bells adorn beasties
Angels with whip cream smiles, halos hung on unicorn horns
Time has come to pick me up, say goodbye to this super natural sight
Azure waters whisper of one more, turn and see, a lonely lioness laments

G.R. Hambley ©
August 28, 2015

The Killing Kind

I’m thinking about you Cecil. I’m sure there are others that are thinking about you too. Those others and me, we are all wondering. We wonder how what was done to you Cecil at the pleasure of Walter Palmer can be prevented from happening to any creature for pleasure.

I’m thinking and wondering about what kind of disconnect someone has to have to not only kill you Cecil, but to kill for pleasure. Then there are the ones who’ll take the money so those with that killing disconnect can indulge their pleasure.

It is difficult for me to decide if this piece belongs on transitionu or SPASM. There isn’t anything to speak of in the smartass category but there is much in the way of personal opinion and anger. I admit to bringing my personal opinions to both Blogs but they are faceted differently.

I care to look at this disgrace with my whole self. My whole self has both Blogs. My whole self sees and reacts in different ways.

We know this instance is high profile because Cecil Lion was lured out from a preserve. We know of this pleasure killing because of the prominence of Cecil Lion. We know this killing was flat out just wrong!

You read some of Minnesota Dentist Walter Palmer’s rhetoric. I believe it is only spouted to cover his dumb ass. Consider what he says with the actuality. It doesn’t take much consideration to come to the conclusion that this individual went to Zimbabwe for the sole purpose of pleasure killing.

He calls himself a Sportsman, a Big Game Hunter. Where the hell was the sport Walter? Tell me Walter, how did the game you got that you needed for your table taste? It’s this way Palmer, all of us who deplore what you did want the answers to those questions. We know the truth. Had you told the truth there would at least be respect for telling the truth.

Yes Walter the world knows you made apology. I and others very much doubt that the apology you made was contrived and nothing more than an attempt to cover your ass. The only way to have covered your dumb ass was by not killing. You’ve proven you’re too stupid to have not shown off your kill.

Tell me Walter did you know Lions are a threatened species? If you knew then you obviously didn’t give a damn or you wouldn’t of gone to kill one for your pleasure.

So you know Wally, this one isn’t going away and if you care to you’ll be able to see for yourself in the link to what Grace Mugabe said.

Walter Palmer, what I say here you might want to take to your sick heart, for you, there is no redemption.

I went looking and reading as I was doing this piece. Bounced what I found off a good friend in South Africa. My friend made a one word comment after reading what I sent on Grace Mugabe and that word was, “crazy”. That same friend went back to my photograph with poetry and said, “she’s missing him too”.

Don’t blame Cecil the lion’s killer, says Zimbabwe’s First Lady Grace Mugabe

For you Grace Mugabe it’s this way. Were pleasure killers like Walter Palmer not looking to kill for their self gratification then there wouldn’t be greedy sleazy pimps taking the money to lead those pleasure seekers to a kill. No surprise you want to keep that foreign money rolling in.

There is no race issue here. The killing of Cecil in Zimbabwe is not a whole lot different than trafficking children for sex. The commonality is sick people with a major disconnect willing to pay large money to satisfy their pleasures.

The poetry for “Once Upon A Sky” is written the way it is with the specific intent of setting up the stick it in, twist it and then break it off. Making a killer statement, I can get behind, beside and in front of that kind of killing. The needless, senseless and unnecessary taking of life I simply cannot fathom or condone.

There are a great number of good people missing you Cecil and lamenting your loss just like the lioness in the sky is missing you and lamenting your passing. There are those who will not let this one just fade away. There are those who will speak out against the killing and do what they can to make it so that killing for pleasure stops. I am one of those people.

Oh and Cecil just so you know, the killing of you made us that wonder more aware of the ones we don’t know about and more determined to have it stop!

G.R. Hambley – August 30, 2015
All rights reserved

Just Fly

Just Fly

~.~.~.~.~

A metaphysical moment

learn-to-fly-01

G.R. Hambley – all rights reserved

And if you’d care for a little flight of your own.
Tom Petty and Pink Floyd

https://play.spotify.com/track/4DWzGxXc3shAzDGy2UIaL5

https://play.spotify.com/track/29AqwAO3ovtvipJC767gQE

Quoth Me #9 MAJIK

MAJIK. For the true makers, we are allowed to spell it as such. Verily, we can conceive of no other way to spell it when we write of our SPELL making.

This quoth me was derived from a response I made to the following comment on LINKEDIN, “what is written without effort is in general read without pleasure“.

Some of us can write when we think and write when we don’t think. It’s called MAJIK. I can and do, do it. I have it and those others who have it and can also make MAJIK. We have been granted by the Gods Of Creation that gift.

Some of the things we do are thoughtless and happen oh so very quickly. They are not and never are effortless.

When the majik happens, just flows out of you in to creation it is a beautiful thing. The physical and emotional feelings I have when it is happening are incredible. The feeling when the piece finishes, I call completion euphoria. Physically and emotionally the feeling is so incredibly satisfying.

All 3 of these of mine were “effortless” and I have others that were thoughtless and not effortless.

25 minutes and done in acrostic format.
https://transitionu.wordpress.com/2015/05/27/for-lucky/

30 minutes for the poetry.
https://transitionu.wordpress.com/2014/08/27/me-and-donne/

45 minutes for the poetry and 8 hours for the art.
https://transitionu.wordpress.com/2015/05/26/delight/

The quote I like is this.
“The true alchemists of the world due not change lead in to gold; they change the world into words” William H Gass

Polarized – poetry with art

Polarized – poetry with art

The poetry is, “Polarized”. The art is “Winter Freeze”

WinterFreeze

Polarized

Winter worked majik, resplendent greeting on awakening
Invitation to paint the scene written on warm breath wisps
Night’s making of white satin, a canvas for two this afternoon

Taking time to share a cup, the rest fills the warming jar
Easel holding brushes, fans and flats and swords, box full of paints
Red? no, blue? not for this beautiful day made just for us two,

From those two, a daub from me, a dab from you, more from you
Running together, mixture of shades, the palette goes to purples
Eye catches eye, hand joins hand, bundled up, bristling to colour the scene

Energized, bold strokes, light caresses, icicles drip from branches
Zeno himself unable to deny these motions making change just illusion
Enervated, spent after this day spent together doing as lovers do

G.R. Hambley ©
June 14, 2015

Singular

Singular

Seems I’ve always been here
Under the rainbows bright smile
Below the clouds wide range
Longing away where one star shines

Insides burning with unrequited desire
Mists of great falls shroud falling tears
It’s the way of solitary searching
Never was meant to be like others

Always destined to roam on alone
Life down the one way can’t run way
Yardsticks marked by indelible mind
So goes a maker of rhythm and rhyme

Utopian existence this way not for some
Best left to those select majik few
Listen close and you will hear
In their words one fear of loss they tell

Make it so someday all will know
Every step down that singular road
Made trail where none dared first go
Every word safe, scribed in celestial book

G.R. Hambley ©
June 13, 2015