Poetry has nowhere left to go
And nothing else to do other than
Transcend itself, which first
Requires comprehension of oneself.
Lazy be the cells of a bard
Who sells out to the know-it-
Alls dwelling in ivory towers;
Academic shackles bind the mind!
Those ledger heads would have us
Take a street fight indoors
Where orderlies could constrain
The activities of each brain.
Bukowski believed in the RAW
Nothing wrong with how he saw
Although much needs to be said
About a well done prime rib proem.
An empty stomach grumbles
From forced fast on fury road.
Our ornery engine roars and rumbles
Dead do walk, as crow has crowed.
Outgrowth spawning sprawling tendrils
Innate protoplasmic insight reassembles
Some semblance of emblematic ascendance
Causing such a consternation, that holy heaven trembles!
Long time no write
This site out of sight
The Nous grew silent
Which in retro sounds right
The struggle continues
Nagual knows that it's REAL
But something ETHEREAL
Yet tangible waits on us to feel
Beyond creative explosions
Treks through trials and commotions
Life meets death with convulsions
Still the fight is worthwhile
Stakes are far too high to ignore
Organic existence is just one aisle
That Consciousness must explore
Posterity will bear out this work's value
Polished gems always outclass any hullabaloo
Pretentious labels are attached to such a purview
Perfection is offensive to mortals who envy you!
On The Warpath
We will consecrate this act of war
With the flesh of gods and
Amrita - Nectar of Immortality!
Another eclipse approaches —
A brutal battle encroaches...
The enemy hears our tenebrific chant:
Vicious, vile, Ars vindictive
Yes such power is addictive
It lays waste to the edifice
Of orderly artifice
(In every way unpredicted)
Chaotic convulsions carry on
Death doth rattle
Open maw; give us MORE!
Grimace foul ghoul
Facing abject defeat
May you learn before parting
With whom not to compete.
Pigs pale | next to princely elite
But beware the court Fool
Because sometimes suddenly
A hidden king is revealed
Then any shield shall yield
To that psychic sword he will wield
All foes fear his fierce horrific rant:
Out of fire
Low on pith
The moment has fled
Judgement was swift
And this damned demon groans
From rock bottom of the pit
In the theater of things sublime
Pilose players and pithy pipes combine.
Metonymy may mollify a meaningless mind
As apes at nature's apex are realigned.
Come now ghost of Samson — let us grow our hair of strength!
What wondrous shimmering shall be shown in its length?
Weird yet wild antenna attuned to hardwired wisdom;
Unleashed by shaman's shout from inner shrine to outer serfdom.
Author's Note: This piece is a follow-up to an earlier one entitled,
The Whirlwind Cometh.
Yet those who don't take any chances are wasting their lives
Get caught up in the squall at least once before you die!
Tempus Fugit, we expire before knowing it
Blasts from the blizzard only rattle us a bit
Don't take shit lying low nor do idly sit
Life may be a struggle, but that's no excuse to quit!
Hover over heady heights of that hurricane's funnel
Rock the boat gripping both right and left gunnel
Force your way towards flashy rays beyond this tunnel
Come hither monsoon — grow a river from trickling runnel!
Shipwrecked islander try
Not becoming lamentably blind
Pry third eye
Wide open to luster
Lying beneath shallow waves
How they tint our perception with such subtle shades ...
Bask in sun until dry
Pineal rods and cones decalcified
Awry state rectified
Blow back against bluster
Showing resistance to being effaced
Heaven Ho; windstorm's course has now all been retraced.
Introduction to General Jinx-Ology
The superstitious whisper their beliefs about Major High Jinx
Without actually understanding its dynamic mechanics
Therefore their assumptions are naught but foolish gimmicks.
Let us set the record straight:
Jinx is neither good luck nor bad luck.
It's rather neutral and weird
But may serve any incarnate being
If they can figure out how to surf waves made of pure improbability.
Jinx isn't altogether male or female
But either one as suits its momentary purpose.
Genderless Jinx runs throughout spacetime
Weaving both waves and particles when observed by someone sentient.
Jinx is neither here nor there
Atemporal quasi-space is its conduit.
Being nowhere in particular
Enables Jinx to be omnipresent in temporal affairs.
Its masks are myriad in appearance;
Multifarious in finite form.
Many host Jinx without knowing it;
A seeming curse — a disguised blessing!
Jinx might also be referred as The Devil's Luck
Because it can be exploited by a Thaumaturge of whatever sex.
In other words, those skilled in Sympathetic Magic
(Often allied with forces considered dark in nature).
Be aware, such Mages and Court Jesters are closely connected —
A true Fool is player as well as played.
However, the Grand Game is never named!
Synchronicity, uncanniness, and sheer irony
Are all side-effects of Jinx in action.
Their endless variety constitutes the selfsame Spice of Life.
Jinx stacks random odds in favor of, or against whomever lives
According to their own Consciousness + Karma
(Much more will be explained about this further along).
First though, oblations. Pay your respects before proceeding;
Hail High Jinx in all its permutations upon ephemeral material spheres!
Hallowed be Jinx among mere mortals who hope for positive change!
May Jinx forestall the untimely collapse of this and neighboring universes!
We must alter our behavior
Lest they bend us through control
As we flirt with grim disaster
In their twisted game of minds
This whole world is mired in words
Too much faith is staked on lies
Come September and it'll be last year
History repeats itself — History repeats!
The towers are coming down
During commercial-break distractions
Can we really justify such actions?
Can we even make peace anymore?
Never ready for indignity
Our social ignorance runs rampant
Nude and wild in broad daylight
Deja-Vu served up with trimmings
Voices crack due to tired insecurity
Exhausted by the laws
Of a mute and deaf GOD
Martyrs broken by his treachery
So light a lantern in the darkness
Prepare a pyre for the funeral
That all might be reborn
Bright as the skies' celestial eyes
Because History repeats itself —
History repeats ...
Today's poetical history lesson comes to us courtesy of Kerin Gedge. Check out his project: The Vocabuverse.
Kerin Gedge, a projectionist coping with the lack of much to do when his Employer went digital years ago, decided to use his downtime to rewrite the English Dictionary as poetry (mainly because he'd always wanted to read it but frankly found it boring). Recently made redundant thanks to technology, Kerin lives in New Zealand and is exploring career options in between writing The Vocabuverse as well as being a full time Dad!
There was a king called Charlemagne
Charles the first also his name
King of the Franks in seven sixty eight
Later on a King in Italy
Remembered throughout history
By his designation: Charles the Great!
Since in the West Rome’s Empire fell
The books about those days do tell
He was the first in three whole centuries
To bear the title “Emperor”,
And Holy Roman Emperor,
Crowned so by Pope Leo number three.
After fall of Roman Empire
He was the first king to acquire
Most of Western Europe in his grasp
Which he ruled for thirteen years
Until he left earth’s mortal sphere
In eight one four when alas he breathed his last.
Rough around the edges
Round rhymes for square wedges
Hidden from view behind thick hedges
Produced as memory dredges
Double-crossed by disloyal pledges
Innocent of anything anyone alleges
Stays unfazed if hit with sledges
Hope it hangs from highest ledges
Like streamlined arrows given fledges
That's enough — close up your ledgers!
Imagination rarely stretches
What a poor price knowing fetches
Even learning barely etches
Credible and discernible sketches.
Lust and libido lock down logic
Perversions preeminently pedagogic
"Dat ass" runs crowd control
Doubly dynamic and droll
Booty bounce vexes both sexes
Making some more ambidextrous
Naughty Illuminati hottie
Exploits blind minds with tight body
Rear end rhapsody
Defying gravity through depravity
At either end of the spectrum
Society has its head up a rectum
Scarlet woman; whore of Babylon?
(Too much ado about butts)
Religious prudes ramble on
The rest say: "Hooray For Sluts!"
Your bones are first to tell you
When a hurly-burly approaches
Then mind becomes restless
Making long nights sleepless
For as the wind intensifies
From silent draft to violent gust
You'll soon know what you must
Swept off your feet; to Oz or bust
After that, everything's transformed:
Awestruck witness at eye of storm
Amid drastic departure from old norm
But don't despair — one's heart defies
Although no amount of preparation
Can preempt such devastation
Brought via fateful precipitation
Thou shalt act as winged ones do.
Eagle fly by
Leaving crop circles behind
Yes fly by
Sprinkling moon dust
On this ignorant race
So that they won't go to waste ...
Cyclone hasten nigh
Loosen whatever bonds bind
Yea draw nigh
There's no superior rush
For surface dwellers debased
Fill us within, else we be erased!
When Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva was practicing
the profound Prajna Paramita,
he investigated and perceived the five Skandhas (heaps)
and saw that they were all non-existent,
thus securing his deliverance from all suffering and difficulty:
"Shariputra, form does not differ from emptiness;
emptiness does not differ from form.
Form itself is emptiness; emptiness itself is form.
So too are feeling, cognition, mental function
and consciousness in relation to emptiness.
Shariputra, all dharmas are
empty of characteristics.
They are not created, not annihilated,
not impure, not pure,
and they neither increase nor decrease.
Therefore, in emptiness there is no form,
feeling, cognition, mental function, or consciousness;
no eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and mind;
no sights, sounds, smells, taste, touch, and ideas;
no field of the eyes, up to and including
no field of mind-consciousness,
and no ignorance or ending of ignorance,
up to and including no old age and death,
or ending of old age and death.
There are no Four Noble Truths, no wisdom and no gain.
Because nothing is gained, the Bodhisattva,
through reliance on Prajna Paramita,
has no hindrances in his heart.
Because there is no hindrance, he is not afraid,
is free from contrary and delusive ideas
and attains the Final Nirvana.
All Buddhas of the past, present and future
attain enlightenment through reliance on Prajna Paramita.
Therefore, know that Prajna Paramita
is a great spiritual mantra,
a great bright mantra, a supreme mantra,
an unequalled mantra!
It can remove all suffering; it is genuine and not false.
That is why the mantra of Prajna Paramita was first spoken."
Recite it thus:
Bluegrass and Shoplifting
During the summer, there was a face
that would become familiar one day while other faces
screamed to be ignored. The hammer dulcimer
made its sound and the beard on stage sang
a song about a lost truck in the woods.
She listened for a bit before going “shopping”.
She paused when the siren alarm went off,
yet was always allowed to pass with the CD in her purse
(a collection of late 90’s music - a soundtrack).
She ate some seaweed not because it was enjoyable,
but because it was eccentric; then sped
along narrow country roads like a NASCAR driver,
careening disastrously all the way home!
Come observe it here at the borders of oblivion
The inexhaustible march of man's temporal parade
Whether Alexander, Constantine or Khan
Every conqueror contributed commonalities
Causality, consistency, conflicts and their consequences.
Most men are low denomination dominoes
Simple pushovers that fall into formation
Bowing beneath the oppressive weight of history
Unquestioning participants for social experiments
Where inherent rules work against the hardest workers.
Yet although they be few, there are ones who roll like dice
Chancers clutching onto loose straws of probability
Fewer still are those that luck out and hit the jackpot
Of discovery and innovation - advancing civilization itself
Like Tesla, Einstein, even Turing.
Argue against them (if you feel you must)
But only such visionaries see a shot clearly
Before taking it and thence leaping far ahead
Leaving most of us inside pitiable sandboxes
Fashioning fortified settlements from immemorial sediment.
So which Will you be:
Remembered by virtue of distinction?
Forgotten among aimless masses?
Or frozen within indecision?
Tiles fall flat - but recognize: every toss revives a die!
Poor Prometheus, a figure to be pitied!
All he did was bring the spark to mankind;
rare gift wrought in the observation deck.
Knowing the ways of people, they probably
took the gift with barely any gratitude,
immediately making a kill and cooking.
Turning their backs on the abject figure
(without so much as a half-formed smile)
who even now reclines on a stone, waiting
for Zeus' Eagle to finish its course yet again ...
Ah La Vida
Very Quick &
Vitality - Speeding
Verisimilitude lacking meaning?
Veracity seems sweeter when
Velocity is freed up!
Hallelujah oh unnamed Lord or Lady
May a divine whirlwind lift us aloft
Mortal trappings are more than meat
The eye and other sense organs delay
Behind our brains unable to bear sway
Of one's Weltanschauung verging on defeat
Write off whatever they say some creator coughed
Warriors thrive halfway, between bright and shady.
* Except on Wall of Worthies – whereon rights are retained by respective authors.