Obsidian Eagle's Blasphemous Bazaar - avant-garde poetics, indie publishing, nom-de-plume

Obsidian Eagle's

Blasphemous Bazaar

META-Poems For A New Millennium

<br>META-Poems For A New Millennium<br><br>

The Flagship of Anti-Poetry — est. 2010

A Priori Expressions

A Priori Expressions

On Earth there be no dearth of calumny
Living statues assume impromptu postures then wither withal
Cliffhanger moss wilts above hungover forests
Whole literal mackerel turns to figurative doggerel
While we peons amble about as if under a spell

It's a blitz baby | show your bones | you've a fever to tell

Memorable sayings get paraphrased in negative modalities
Totalities that boast Ultimate Truth are found fraught with technicalities
Why the nerve expressed via verbs amounts to loaded words
And the worst of all these? Verse! Spewing out terse blurbs fueled by burning herbs

Conniving versifiers smother signifiers with egotistic utterance
Happenstance may deliver us unto essence although purely perchance
The sky has fallen many times li'l chicken, so pick up its pieces and do try again
Jet lagged intuition hears not elision; unable to see purpose despite vision

The Nexus of The Next

The Nexus of The Next

What's next? Who's next? Where to next?
We're caught ever in "The Next"!
Though our landscape is always shifting
There is none thus come nor gone.

Solipsistic lapses undergoing therapy.
Palpitating fixity upon imaginary center.
Prehensile cogitation clutches straws —
Solidified Reality? Inadequate descriptors!

Latter day prophets predict doom;
Wise canonical inscriptions go unheard.
Disillusion becomes par for the course.
Wistful meaningless rhetoric bores...

Where to next? Who's next? What's next?
Flounder clever yet perplexed.
Sought but not found within text:
A moving landmass, unannexed!

 [ May wit lend levity when gravity weighs down our ways ]

Doctrine of Anatta (No-Self)

Author's Note: For an encyclopedic explanation of "Anatman", refer to: Britannica   

Doctrine of Anatta (No-Self)

- I -
What is the Self?
Where is the Self to be found?
Who is that Self we seek?
Is it dry (this Self)?

Never. Always. It is and yet isn't.
Clever. Foolish. Absolute but relative.
Simultaneous with thought, though not present even once. 
As elusive to one's mind as evasive to our senses.
Dare not pretend to know anything concrete about it.
Don't stand upon authority; assume no final stance.
Dive back into Atlantis. Sink down beneath thy Self...

Flex effort, effort, effort
Lather ~ rinse ~ wash off those stains!
Yes only effort, threefold effort
Can really clean off what remains.

- II -
Hey now, who's that?
Living, going, gone!
Playing hide and go seek
Can't quite put a finger on —

Who's escaping past perception?
Who's perceiving an escape?
Never the same twice for anyone to call it constant.
Dead or dying, Being reborn
During every moment (Bardo gaps).
Hollow and impermanent; still we try to hold on tight.
Hands of haze sweeping the tides 
Unable to clutch a single drop.

So just flow dear Comatose
Like, with, and as the ocean.
Quit pretending at forevers
Void all ego, then just ≈ flow 

Image: Bond of Union by M.C. Escher

Qualified Non-Dualism

Qualified Non-Dualism

Everything comes together  
Folding back in on itself
When objective observance collapses then

Subjective lucidity dawns in the dreamer's sky
Bathing sense faculties with absolute clarity

The edges of perception are defined by limited awareness
But now basic consciousness reasserts its boundlessness
Attention engulfs whole body-mind spectrum
Stretching out among forms from amorphous fullness
As ardor burns brightly in ascending and descending evolutionary currents

Breath ignites blood to animate pneuma 

Poised at that perfect equilibrium
Where all waves weave cognitive patterns
While an integral system properly interprets

Glimmering movements through either implicit or explicit orders of Being

Meta-Poetics Vol. 2: Prophetic Conflations

Author's Note: This is the first follow-up for a series that commenced on new year's day. Original post can be found here (beware, it's a doozy): Meta-Poetics: Vol. 1   

Meta-Poetics Vol. 2:  Prophetic Conflations

As the Ubermensch will be to Homo Sapiens, so shall Anti-Poets become for Poets:
Escapees from that vapid madhouse centered around a cult of personalities
Exodus wandering into wilderness where tumble-words drift through desert
Vainglorious bardic bastards vanish vanquished, after tasting just desserts
Their successors assimilate similar techniques but expand far beyond them
Creatively subverting what held inordinate esteem among subordinate soles
Never apologizing to any sounder for hanging pearls high over swine heard
Centuries later these verses are still misread; echoes deafen scholars
Append another end until disenchanting childhood notebooks are unearthed
Anonymity and public apathy afford a better cover story than plain obscurity
Explanandum sans explanans demands lifted arms drop surrendered in defeat



* Except on Wall of Worthies
whereon rights are retained by respective authors.