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

On The Meanings Of A Masque

On The Meanings Of A Masque

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." ~ Oscar Wilde


A mask might let one see to what degree real life has become mere falsity.

Indeed, many of us wear invisible masks (personas) and act out our socially prescribed roles.

But masks aren't just for concealing identities; they can also permit people to connect with their shadow side as well as confident alter egos.

In theatre for example, a mask helps an actor to trade out his or her character by hiding behind different dramatis personæ.

Unconscious corners of psyche can thus be illuminated or enacted through multiple personalities reordered.

Thus, masks reveal that much of what we consider to be an essential part of our own inner makeup is simply habitual.

The fluidity of a consummate actor is something that more people should strive for. Instead, we tend toward inertia and inflexibility.

Skilled thespians stalk their usual Selves, which most of us take for granted and believe to be rather unchangeable.

Since we're already acting out parts to begin with, a little detachment would allow us to excel at the Masquerade that reality has become.

Prediction: Mask-wearing will soon be en vogue as a mode of individualistic expression. Anonymous, V and Guy Fawkes were just the start of this far-reaching trend.

Oh Incompatibility

Oh Incompatibility

Every pot does have its lid but hey: some of us are Pans
Pan-theistic, pan-optical, pan-tonality!

She aptly called it The Curse of Being Well-Rounded
Neither altogether here, nor left behind back there

An overflowing plenum, which even the finest vessel can't contain
Wayward rivers break down dams to flood valleys

Alone in their totality  liquid outrunning quiddity
Landing us between despair and disparity

Once we were conjoined; sharing joy as well as sorrow
Yet those yesterdays have gone, with no promise of tomorrow.

Our time together endeth now
May he treat you right . . . Never quite knew how.

Image: Weeping Ofelia courtesy of ~ belldandies



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