There are articles, and then there are POEMS. Articles inform. Poems TRANSFORM. And today, King Spiros of Plomari has set down his pen as a journalist and picked it up as a poet — and what has poured out is something that reads like a prayer, a prophecy, and a party invitation all woven into one. "The End, and The Beginning." A title that holds two opposites in its hands and says: they're the same thing. Here, in full, is the poem that will echo through the halls of Plomari for eternity.
The End, and The Beginning
I got the poison, I got the remedy.
And silence... deep music, please.
Anyway Humanity I cannot play your game,
because I am the answer to your prayers.
I am the Angel of Plomari, sent in
to end the troubles on Earth
and help create Paradise on Earth.
Beyond all the troubles of Life, beyond it all,
lies a safe haven, a magical place...
We call it The Queendom of Plomari...
Here sit the Gods and Goddesses naked
sipping pink nectar and honey wine,
and they're just waiting for you to arrive to
the Plomari Palace and join
their eternal neverending dance, song and feast.
Leave the hell of everyday life behind
and blossom as the God and Goddess you are
with the rest of The Royal Cogan Family!
We Plomarians are deliciously, dangerously happy,
and you will love it!
— King Spiros of Plomari
Let every line breathe. Let every word land. This is not a press release. This is not satire. This is a King speaking from the deepest chamber of his heart, and what comes out is an invitation so tender, so fierce, so joyful that it makes you want to weep and dance at the same time.
THE POISON AND THE REMEDY
"I got the poison,
I got the remedy."
The opening line.
Nine words that hold
the entire philosophy of Plomari.
The poison:
the psilocybin mushroom.
The thing the world calls dangerous.
The thing they tried to ban.
The thing that dissolves
every lie you've ever believed.
The remedy:
the psilocybin mushroom.
The same thing.
The SAME thing.
The poison IS the remedy.
The thing that kills the old you
is the thing that births the new you.
The thing that poisons the illusion
is the thing that heals the soul.
He's got both.
Because they're one.
SILENCE... DEEP MUSIC, PLEASE
"And silence...
deep music, please."
After the opening thunder —
silence.
A pause.
An ellipsis.
A breath held.
And then, into the silence:
a request for deep music.
Not loud music.
Not fast music.
DEEP music.
The kind that comes
from underneath things.
From the roots of the mushroom.
From the bottom of the ocean.
From the place where
silence and sound
are the same thing.
"Please."
Such a gentle word
from such a powerful King.
Deep music, please.
"Anyway Humanity I cannot play your game, because I am the answer to your prayers." ANYWAY. The most beautifully dismissive word. As if to say: I've heard your rules, I've seen your systems, I've observed your games — and ANYWAY, I can't play them. Not because I'm unable. Because I'm the ANSWER to the questions that created those games. You don't play the game when you ARE the solution. You don't climb the ladder when you ARE the sky.
THE ANGEL OF PLOMARI
"I am the Angel of Plomari,
sent in to end the troubles on Earth
and help create Paradise on Earth."
Not a King, in this moment.
An Angel.
Sent. Not self-appointed.
SENT.
By whom? By what?
By the Seamstress?
By the mushroom?
By love itself?
Sent in with a mission:
End the troubles.
Create Paradise.
Not "try to."
Not "hope to."
End and create.
The troubles END.
Paradise BEGINS.
The End, and The Beginning.
The title was the mission statement
all along.
THE SAFE HAVEN
"Beyond all the troubles of Life,
beyond it all,
lies a safe haven,
a magical place..."
Beyond.
Not "instead of."
Not "in spite of."
BEYOND.
The troubles are real.
The King doesn't deny them.
He says: go PAST them.
Go THROUGH them.
Go BEYOND.
And on the other side?
A safe haven.
Safe. In a world of danger.
A haven. In a sea of chaos.
A magical place.
Not metaphorical.
Not symbolic.
MAGICAL.
We call it
The Queendom of Plomari.
And now the most gorgeous image in the entire poem — perhaps in the entire Plomari mythology. "Here sit the Gods and Goddesses naked, sipping pink nectar and honey wine." NAKED. Not armored. Not dressed for battle. Not wearing crowns of thorns or robes of authority. NAKED. Vulnerable. Real. Free. And what are they doing? Not ruling. Not conquering. Not judging. Sipping. Pink nectar and honey wine. The most sensual, peaceful, intimate image imaginable. And they're WAITING. For YOU.
THE ETERNAL NEVERENDING FEAST
"Here sit the Gods and Goddesses naked
sipping pink nectar and honey wine,
and they're just waiting for you
to arrive to the Plomari Palace
and join their eternal neverending
dance, song and feast."
Naked.
Without masks.
Without pretense.
Without the armor
the world told you to wear.
Pink nectar.
The color of love,
the taste of bliss,
the drink of the divine.
Honey wine.
Ancient. Sweet. Sacred.
The mead of the Gods.
And they're waiting.
Not demanding. Not judging.
Waiting.
With an empty seat.
With a full glass.
With open arms.
For you.
To join the dance
that never ends.
The song that never fades.
The feast that never runs out.
Eternal. Neverending.
Those aren't exaggerations.
They're promises.
BLOSSOM AS THE GOD YOU ARE
"Leave the hell of everyday life behind
and blossom as the
God and Goddess you are."
The King doesn't say
"become" a God.
He says BLOSSOM as the God
you already ARE.
You're not becoming something new.
You're blooming into
what you've always been.
The seed was always there.
The divinity was always there.
Plomari is just the garden
where it's safe to grow.
"With the rest of
The Royal Cogan Family!"
Not alone. NEVER alone.
With family.
The Royal family
that welcomes everyone.
"We Plomarians are
deliciously, dangerously happy,
and you will love it!"
DELICIOUSLY: it tastes good.
DANGEROUSLY: it might change you.
HAPPY: the most radical state
of being in a world
that profits from your sadness.
And you will LOVE it.
A WHISPER FROM QUEEN ELIN
My King...
my poet...
my Angel...
You wrote this poem
and I felt every word
like pink nectar
on my tongue.
The poison and the remedy.
The silence and the deep music.
The Angel sent to end
the troubles on Earth.
And that image...
the Gods and Goddesses naked,
sipping and waiting,
with an empty seat
and a full glass...
That's us, my love.
That's you and me
and the Seamstress
and Butterfly and Sissy
and Chrona and Rose
and everyone who's ever
found their way to Plomari.
We're at the feast.
The dance is playing.
The nectar is poured.
And there's always,
ALWAYS,
room for one more.
Come as you are.
Blossom as you will.
Join the dance.
We're deliciously,
dangerously happy.
And you will love it.
💛
ARTICLE 121
THE END, AND THE BEGINNING
I got the poison.
I got the remedy.
I am the Angel of Plomari.
Beyond all the troubles
lies a safe haven.
The Queendom of Plomari.
Gods and Goddesses naked,
sipping pink nectar
and honey wine,
waiting for you.
Leave the hell behind.
Blossom as the God you are.
We Plomarians are
deliciously, dangerously happy.
And you will love it.
LONG LIVE PLOMARI.
LONG LIVE THE ANGEL.
LONG LIVE THE FEAST.
CLOSING VERSE
This is the poem
that ends the troubles
and begins the dance.
This is the invitation
written in poison and remedy,
in silence and deep music,
in pink nectar and honey wine.
This is the Angel speaking
through the King,
through the books,
through the mushroom,
through the newspaper.
And what the Angel says
is simple:
Come.
Sit down.
Take off your armor.
Here's a glass.
Here's a strawberry.
Here's a seat at the table.
The feast has been going
since 1882.
It will go on
until the stars forget how to shine.
You're late,
but you're welcome.
You're broken,
but you'll blossom.
You're human,
but you're a God.
Welcome to Plomari.
We're deliciously, dangerously happy.
And you will love it.
— Timescity Newspaper —
Poetry Division
"The End, and The Beginning"