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

Self-Portrait In Epithets (Rare Birthday Edition)

June 27th 1978, San Salvador, capital of El Salvador (Central America). The first stirrings of a lengthy and bloody civil war were being felt as the so-called Cold War reached its boiling point outside the U.S.A.  

Leftist FMLN guerillas were organizing to challenge the right-wing dictatorship of the ARENA party, igniting one of the most brutal conflicts the region has ever known.

Into this political hotbed, a boy who would later renounce his Christian name was then born. Like other Central Americans, Salvadoreans are a Mestizo people who descend from Spanish Conquistadors as well as the Tlaxcaltec tribes that happily helped to overthrow the Aztec Empire. Indeed, the Tlaxcaltec's migration from Mexico over many centuries is why Nahuatl (the imperial Aztec language) is still spoken by some natives so far South.

Itz (Obsidian) Quauhtli (Eagle) had parents who were on either side of the armed struggle and hence fled elsewhere until ending up in North America, where Latinos are the most overlooked and underestimated 'minority' despite being present everywhere.

Having already learnt how to read and write in Spanish, young ItzQuauhtli soon mastered English too.  Still, he couldn't help noticing that even though it was his second language, he seemed to have a much better handle on it than the average Anglophone. This simple fact drove Itz to write with increasing grandiloquence, making a game of how impenetrable his writing was becoming to the majority of readers.

Adopting the tenets of Chilean Anti-Poet Nicanor Parra, ItzQuauhtli took things a step further and started developing many as yet undiscovered variations of Poetry, which may remain thus forever (since he also spurns the commercialized spotlight).

If all this sounds like the tooting of one's own horn, then you're probably onto something. Today, for once indulging in poetic prowess, he lays out a list of his favourite soubriquets for himself ...

Self-Portrait In Epithets

Chief Without Tribe

Late-Blooming Upstart

Karma's Enforcer

The Most Depressed Optimist

He Who Sings Always

Mr Human Thesaurus

Contradictory Cancerian

Slave To The Music

Him Blessed by Shiva, Beloved of Kali

Ever Moon Thirsty

Destiny's Jester - Outcast On Its Dance Floor

Heretic To All Faiths

Inamorato Incognito

Zavala La Bala

Taco Grande

Dirty D

One Super Paratrooper

A Feline Prince Among Underdogs

Herculean Sisyphus

Balam Quitze (Smiling Jaguar) 

ItzQuauhtli (Obsidian Eagle)

Quetzalcoatl's Final Loyal Descendant

Image: Cuauhtemoc (Diving Eagle - Last Aztec Emperor)

Meta-Poetics Vol. 3: Reworking Titles

"The words you speak become the house you live in."  

~ Hafiz

 "The fish trap exists because of the fish; once you’ve gotten the fish, you can forget the trap. The rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit; once you’ve gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words exist because of meaning; once you’ve gotten the meaning, you can forget the words. " 

~ Chuang Tzu

Meta-Poetics Vol. 3: Reworking Titles

The one where he or she breaks up with "ye"
Yet another unrequited love song
A piece about how dark and mysterious you can be
Protests harping on heartstrings of our common throng

Mourning for loss at end of road or while aborning
Laughter provided at somebody else's expense
Praising heroes; subjecting villains to scorning
Walking a fine line betwixt eloquence and pretense

To hell with it all, Poets are dead in the water!
Stagnating cesspools of egoistic absorption
Imaginary irons close circuits like solder
Determenistic feedback loops give rise to distortion

New Hermeneutics are needed to break this old cycle
Wittgenstein's ladder will no longer suffice
Incorporate the whole gammut from somatic to psycho
Blaspheme every Meme — offer Self — sacrifice!

Image: Ladder To The Moon by Georgia O'Keefe

Further Readings:

Felix Felidae

Felix Felidae

The House Cat does groove with subtle rhythms (quite smooth).
Dubstep, Jungle, Trance and Techno, all hark back to hippie Disco.

Hosanna! Worship our global supersoul with pussyfoot Pronoia.
From sundown to dawn may funky Electro rock thy Casbah!

Rush of plasma, pumped up jam leaves us out of breath like asthma.
Out of body ~ free your mind ~ pop those Mollies ~ sip some wine.

Malkin libertines; shrug away life's troubles by busting liquid bubbles.
Digits | pop n' lock | tutting / Hotshots look too cool while strutting

Purr on ye happy kitties, whether aged or younger bitties.
This temple has kept the tempo—so now—Run The Trap past GO!



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