Radioactive Eden

The waters they foul will clear, the chemicals
They dump will wash away, gravity will pull
The junk down from the sky, the acid rain
Will sweeten again– There may not be men
Or women to love her, the Mother will remain.
I saw the waves of the sea and was seafoam
The sweep of the pine and was green, saw
Sunrise and was sun-fire, I stood on the edge
Saw the end and this is not it — Managers,
Bosses, generals under god, will have you feel
The end is near, Gaia is a stuck pig to roast
Make us believe the Creator gave them power,
Their god of love, prince of peace, their god
Of faith, hope and buckets of blood, hateful
Wrathful father, will crush the living earth
To win a bid for dominance? Think again:
In a thousand years, Chernobyl will be paradise.

 

 

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Questionnaire

Questionnaire

How much poison are you willing
to eat for the success of the free
market and global trade? Please
name your preferred poisons.

For the sake of goodness, how much
evil are you willing to do?
Fill in the following blanks
with the names of your favorite
evils and acts of hatred.

What sacrifices are you prepared
to make for culture and civilization?
Please list the monuments, shrines,
and works of art you would
most willingly destroy.

In the name of patriotism and
the flag, how much of our beloved
land are you willing to desecrate?
List in the following spaces
the mountains, rivers, towns, farms
you could most readily do without.

State briefly the ideas, ideals, or hopes,
the energy sources, the kinds of security;
for which you would kill a child.
Name, please, the children whom
you would be willing to kill.

 

~ Wendell Berry

kids-playing

Wendell E. Berry (born August 5, 1934) is an American novelist, poet, environmental activist, cultural critic, and farmer. A prolific author, he has written many novels, short stories, poems, and essays. He is an elected member of the Fellowship of Southern Writers, a recipient of The National Humanities Medal, and the Jefferson Lecturer for 2012. He is also a 2013 Fellow of The American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Berry was named the recipient of the 2013 Richard C. Holbrooke Distinguished Achievement Award. On January 28, 2015, he became the first living writer to be inducted into the Kentucky Writers Hall of Fame.

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Lullaby

Star stalker light walker
Night dissolves you dream talker
Speaking the colors of symbols in time
Grow quiet
and small myth balker
Your mind lifts like fog over water
Like mist over land
Imagination is creation–
Countless ways open to wisdom
Follow one, woman, go on man
There is one road to take
The one you’re on
You are who you make: Religion

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Rayn Roberts 2017

Listening to the Light

And when I came to the place where the old oaks grow
I knew why men had worshiped the trees
Understanding older than the oak grew in me of the old ways
For I had breathed in the belly of the stone when stone was not
Had grown in the core of the oak
Before the thorn of the wild rose tore me.
The leap of the hare was in my feet,
Hornet wing, hornet sting were my hope and faith
And when I sang, the raven’s call floated from my beak–
The wisdom of the ages from the mouth of sage and seer is not lost
But hidden… where water wears down rock
The hills hold, the cougar slows, all things rest and are right

Where the trees speak the light.

 

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Celtic History of Druids

Brief History of Druidry

From this Side of the River

I invented this river, dreamed it up

Been dreaming it wider and wider,

 

I stand on this bank and the other side

Is lost to me, even as I am lost, each day

 

What I think I am, is less and less

What is all about me, more and more

 

And yes the river is deep and wide

Who or what’s on the other side, hidden:

 

Dreaming is a hard skill to master—

I toss my hat the length of the river

 

But cannot see the other side

Dreaming it wider, wider (a statement

 

worth consideration and not

profound at all)  I stand and fish,

 

Catch my limit most often, dinner

For friends as well, yet questions

 

On the nature of dreaming rivers ways

Are as many as the colors of fish, answers

 

Fewer than seem far somehow—

But the river is my own dream

 

If I don’t mind where it takes me

The river can break me in the deep.

 
Crossings are hard task to master.

The river is my own invention.