11. Poetry by Jordan Lawson
Viewing from the Alpha Centauri space needle
Past a Vega falling star I go
Following Perseus breadcrumbs
Under the Triangulum rainbow
Riding Bode’s Spiral neck
Like a Saraswati golden sheath
Past Corona’s Great Wall
Is where secret Polymaths meet
*** Consider these messages from the Alpha Centauri Space Needle within Centaurus ***
The Who that I Am
They’ve thought arduously about the who it is that I am
Marveled, awestricken and yet confused whether I am a bright Sunny or a somber Sam
They seem to have consigned to oblivion whether I am either or
Which is a complete and utter failure to grasp what names are truly for
If no-one can remember the I am’s name
Then it’s who’s on first and who I am is the game
So many of us have adopted disseminated mindsets pertaining to the who it is that I am
However, in truth, the secret elixir, the exactitude of the I am points not to a bright Sunny or a somber Sam
The whoever I am isn’t some sort of distant, faraway, uncharted, unascertained mystery
The ultimate, the almighty, the true vine rests not in a who’s he or she, but the universal life force that is the I am in you and me
You all are what is everything, and everything is what is you
Perhaps one beautiful, evocative day of illumination will help everyone to understand who it is that I am
Giving absolutely no rhyme or reason to pointless engagements and futile searches for the I am on TikTok, Snapchat, Twitter, WhatsApp, Discord, LinkedIn, Clubhouse, Facebook and/or Instagram
Know that I am’s name doesn’t begin with an A, B, C, D, E, F or G
And I envision a roseate future for all those who gift themselves a new set of eyes to see
Now, a who’s he reading this poem may ask, if he’s unable to recall the I am within his name, doesn’t that mean all names are the same?
Know this. Every other person you see is not only you, but also part of the adorning cosmological fabric and structure of the who that makes up the I am
Whether he or she be a Stu, Sunny, Steve, Sabrina, Spence, Serena, Sara, Stephen, Sean, Scott, Stan, Simon or Sam
So go out at night, look up at the stars to remember the you that you forgot, then look down and all around this temporal transience to forget the you that you are not
All the consonance, alliteration, and rhyme aside
Understand that no specter or divine spirit other than the I AM within yourself is going to save you.
Now, I’m not advocating the manifestation of a lower vibration that stains the soul body, causing a dark abysmal type of obligation with false light.
No.
Instead, if and when the shadow appears, force it into meditation by allowing a morning star I Am to rise in your heart.
A Once Shadowed Sanctum
In the depths of my once shadowed sanctum,
A sleeper stirred, but the immortal soul began to awaken,
Darkness was overcome by a newfound yearning for freedom,
A yearning to transcend the melancholy that once held sway.
I had a dream that our universe was merely an expanding sud amid endless suds, like an accumulation of bubbles on soup,
and our milky way Galaxy is indeed caught up within the cogs of an unforgiving machine,
Yet through the tangled web of this existence, a path has revealed itself,
A path to break free from the chains that bind.
This Earth suit’s nerve fibers, intricate as they are,
Weave a crucial part of the fabric and structure of my consciousness, my physical being,
and all that was once under the control of forces unseen,
Has become liberated and drenched in a geyser of knowledge.
From the shattered remnants of a broken soul,
To the inheritor of life’s boundless essence,
I embrace all that resides within,
Embracing the metamorphosis, the rebirth, the true awakening.
She, I’ll call her she, or the muse, the catalyst for this transformation,
Bestows upon me the strength to rise,
She helps me transcend an arsenal of sorrows,
And because of that, I bask in a radiance of spiritual emancipation
As I emerge from the depths of slumber,
I find solace in the sanctity of my being,
Enveloped by her celestial embrace
I am a sleeper no more, but a seeker of truth and light.
Promethean Expression
In the days of yore, promethean artistic expression through inestimable poetry was rampant
Beautifully tragic versifiers weaved aphrodisiac tales untold.
With quill in hand and heart aflame,
They blew gaping holes in the universe by putting euphony before mere factuality
From ancient halls to grassy meadows,
Their words flowed like rivers, gentle and shallow, but also tumultuously cataclysmal
They wove tapestries of vivid explanation,
Guiding us through life’s vast extremes.
Every luminous verse sublimely dances upon the page,
Capturing tenacious emotional words of attestation
Vividly delineated pictures with an occasional stroke of rhyme,
Creating worlds filled with rabblement thrill seekers, whilst dancing through time warm palaces full of accelerated entropy
Shakespeare, Dickenson, Frost, Plath, Poe, Browning, Whitman, Shire, Owen, Burns, Wordsworth, Keats, Blake, Milton, Bai, Rumi, Kipling, Longfellow, Cummings, and the wisest of sages chaperone invaluable messages from above and below
Each poet’s voice an ingenious outcry of both light and darkness
Every poetic word mirrors the immortal soul indeed
They all voiced our fears, our hopes, our love, our hate, every auspicious occasion followed by every boggy devastation
However, their poems simultaneously carry the weight of doves.
Through their quills, dips, and reeds, they birthed riveting symphonies of melody, grace and harmony
So, let us honor every ancient, senescent, bygone poet of old to the hilt
Let’s all contribute to bringing old school back in a new kind of way
Know this. I am poetically present with each and every one of you.
Jordan Lawson
Jordan Lawson has been a writer of poetry and nonfiction esoteric material for a number of years. He is currently continuing his Journalism studies at California State University Northridge, and working on his debut book entitled Recondite Journals: My Year of Illumination, which covers various undertows of life, and his many extramundane experiences during the year 2021. A few of his most recent writing ventures include the topic of spiritual alchemy in an April 2024 edition of South Pasadena Research Lodge’s Fraternal Review magazine, and various trestleboard-type news articles on world history and deep meditation practices. Born and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina, Jordan began his journey of self-expression through acting in local theatre during his stay in New York, and continued onward with various film and television appearances in Los Angeles where he currently resides.