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POEMS GROUP 20: ATMAN
Atman - self

Category 3: Moments

Section Index


  1. Expecting
  2. Show
  3. Voices of Authority
  4. Rest
  5. Mementos
  6. Tiergarten
  7. Berliners
  8. Dance No. 1
  9. Snow Warp
  10. Sexed-Up Toads
  11. Microphone
  12. Opus
  13. Spanish Rain
  14. Body and Soul
  15. Syllogy XXVIII: The Desert


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Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS I:
EXPECTING
Leipzig, February 12th, 2005 - P#301



an artist
sitting in front of her works
waiting



PJK
February 12th/24th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS II:
SHOW
Leipzig, February 12th, 2005 - P#302



visited a gallery
some are just so full of it
and while some do speak
others babble
have never I seen so much
pretension



PJK
February 12th/24th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS III:
VOICES OF AUTHORITY
Leipzig, February 12th, 2005 - P#303



and now
the suits walking by
pretending
all's theirs



PJK
February 12th/24th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS IV:
REST
Eichwalde, February 17th, 2005 - P#304



knocked out my self
in style
of course
a pill
some ouzo
some wine
just needed to stop
for now
nite-nite



PJK
February 17th/24th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS V:
MEMENTOS
Berlin, February 18th, 2005 - P#305



we plaster our streets
with the names of the dead
of the famously
deceased



PJK
February 18th/24th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS VI:
TIERGARTEN
Berlin, February 19th, 2005 - P#306



walking from Brandenburg Gate
to Potsdamer Platz
through Tiergarten
covered in snow
some crows are flying
some dogs are playing
some people strolling
and with some new buildings
this looks just quite like
Central Park
Berlin



PJK
February 12th/24th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS VII:
BERLINERS
Berlin, February 19th, 2005 - P#307



Berliners
just talk to them
they're friendly creatures
in their hearts
if only they'd know it
sometimes



PJK
February 19th/24th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS VIII:
DANCE NO. 1
Berlin, February 24th, 2005 - P#308



I see dancing
a touch of swing
reminds me of Mulholland Dr.
how can something so joyous
be Lynched to appear so demonic as well?
well
I don't dance
at least not here, not now, not so
yet I do dance
I dance
on paper
in the letters
an energy daimonic
playfully
aiming at revelation
at the eternal (and sometimes infernal)
machine
that we're in
dancing
dancing
all around
I only dance on paper?
yeah, right...



PJK
February 24th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS IX:
SNOW WARP
Berlin, February 24th, 2005 - P#309



driving
racing through the night
starry starry night
no, it ain't stars
warping towards me
it's just snow
falling on asphalt
that's good enough
the allusion feeds the illusion quite well



PJK
February 24th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS X:
SEXED-UP TOADS
Walim/Eichwalde, April 3rd, 2005 - P#310



two toads jumped on the road
whilst jumping themselves

stopping in mid-way
why care about death while stuck quite in life?



PJK
April 3rd/4th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS XI:
MICROPHONE
Berlin, April 6th, 2005 - P#311



how the mike
makes it all
come closer
how
suddenly
when the lips near the object
the words touch the room
lick every one in it
and suck it all up
and eat them just up



PJK
April 6th/11th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS XII:
OPUS
Berlin, April 6th, 2005 - P#312



thought I had big things to do
felt something massive
coming on
alas
once I looked at it
it was just tiny
nothing of matter
nothing of substance
nothing of soul
thought I was full of it



PJK
April 6th/11th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS XIII:
SPANISH RAIN
Berlin, April 6th, 2005 - P#313



her voice
moist of deseo
took she
some words
and turned them to poetry
más
quiero más
spoke she of rain
but told she in stead
how to make fire
from water
la humedad
del deseo
la fluidez
del fuego
oh,
the inevitabilidad
of woman!



PJK
April 6th/11th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
ATMAN - MOMENTS XIV:
BODY AND SOUL
Berlin, April 6th, 2005 - P#314



'tis not the one
'tis not the other
'tis both
yet still
though the body can inspire
an uninspired mind?
how stale
sights can betray
but how do you capture
a soul?



PJK
April 6th/11th, 2005







Phil John Kneis:
SYLLOGY XXVIII:
ATMAN - MOMENTS XV:

Tetralogy I Part Two


The Desert



Eichwalde / Berlin / Ravenna / Rome / Bad Kreuznach / Cologne, Jun 17th, 2005 - Feb 4th, 2006 - P#315






EXPOSITION:


ENTRANCE

PART ONE: A SILENCE ETERNAL
INTERLUDE ONE: TABVLA RASA
PART TWO: UNDERNEATH
INTERLUDE TWO: VIRGIN LAND
PART THREE: THUNDERBOLT
INTERLUDE THREE: CIVILISATION
PART FOUR: FATED MORGUE
INTERLUDE FOUR: DESTINY
PART FIVE: WHAT WENT YE OUT...

EXIT



Schematic Navigation
Entrance
Barren Dunes Void Vast Infinity A Nothing That Is Diurnal Heat Nocturnal Cold The Rock Dust to Dust
Tabula Rasa
Notions of Death Notions of Life The Slithering Snake The Stinging Scorpion The Termite's Mound The Jackal The Mole The Ants The Camel Seeded
Virgin Land
Flickers Shadows Tremors Darkness Falls A Ray of Light Specters in the Night Storms in the Desert An Army of Light An Army of Darkness Fire Reigns
Civilisation
Ceded A Mind of its Own Canali Dust The Monolith The Petroglyph The Cordon The Theater The Tower The Garden
Destiny
The Dark The Light The Cry The Grasp The Gasp Entwined Alone Enshrined A Clone And Gone?
Exit












Entrance



standing
not moving
waiting
not craving
seeing
not asking
all energy lost
all action subdued here
the nothing that hurts
all space now unfolding
in wavering
heat
and nothing's assumed
a tabula rasa
of sand
and of stones
an image
in the clouds
waiting t' be painted
unto a canvas
of emptiness
all

Entrance








1: A Silence Eternal



Barren Dunes Void Vast Infinity A Nothing That Is Diurnal Heat Nocturnal Cold The Rock Dust to Dust



I: BARREN



is there not
a space to see
a space to be
and to be seen
(and to have been?)
a hist'ry quite
a natural one
and one that's constructed
by mind-memes aspiring a way to transcend all
yet still
all so still
all so transcendental it quite
a silence eternal
and ever evoking
a dream to take place
a dream to take shape
and shape quite
what's there
possibly
probably
eventually, it's all inside
and all beneath
how could there be nothing
needs there be something
even in nothing
be it just providence
be it just hope
be it just specters
of what's
to be coming
of what
we've become
of what
we'll become

Barren


II: DUNES



strangest things
fixed so never
moving 'round all
never found all
all in places
never in place
all elemental
all fundamental
never foundations they caring for but
silent waves
yet moving but
not up and down just
hills and dales
of a yellowish tan
making the dunes
how fitting but
ain't it
just how a camel
is fitting right in
to the dunes

Dunes


III: VOID



devoid
not of form but
of sound
the strangest sensation:
just nothing to sense
quite striking a feeling
encroaching so loudly
a silence external
an ocean internal
a pounding inferno
how nothing
is everything
now, ain't that quite something

Void


IV: VAST



move a step
just dare a step
and yet another
'nother
more
just how could it be
there seems no escape
no end quite in reach
no ending in sight
all sight quite betrayed
and slowly receding
and falling quite back
and, dwarves we quite like,
are thrown we all back
unto what we are
the past must recede
the future,
a figment
and all now
comes down to the sense of the now:
how could you blame them
the pharaoh's gone
and Canaan's still far
of course they need something
of course, we need something
to carry us on

Vast


V: INFINITY



and out of reaches Vast
and vacant seeming
just some sparks
and just some spots
a focus not seen
a center not felt
is all pushing back
or all coming closer
or race we at all
well, surely there's something
an everything quite
and all but contained
and all but detained
by hopes
and by fears
shed but the stars here their infinite light
and thunders the sea still in all that we hear
now feel we the desert then staking its claim
and echo the woods still in all that we do

Vast


VI: A NOTHING THAT IS



deserted I feel
so quite given up
and senseless, somehow
a nothing
that's nagging
and proving its point
and proving futility
'n all that I do
(I wanted to write, 'n all that we do,
but why not here drop
all pretence of any quite general knowledge -
the I is the I is the I is the me)
(and we
is just a collection
of Is
all assorted)
(and clinging together)
(in nothing)
that is

A Nothing That Is


VII: DIURNAL HEAT



when the day
knows no other way to shine
but by the
heat
exuded from
stones
sand
fuelled
by the fire from above
by the fire tearing yourself
apart
from the inside
when
then
you know
you're merely tolerated here
not wanted

still
this
too subtle a sign

Diurnal Heat


VIII: NOCTURNAL COLD



the night is old
the night is young
and mostly, cold
her darkness piercing so
everything
lost
in its sightlessness
its sight-preventing
sight-incending
ain't insane it making all

(if insane we are
should show we that not?)

(mixing with melons, man
a melon-man
or a man with a melon-hat?
no, that would be dull
won't it)

night intending
tending
to sink in
now
finally?

a nocturne
is a piece
usually conceived not
but received
best
by unhealthy a dose
of purest
craze

cuddle we
in the cold of night
or muddle we rather
in the tent
under the stars

or dare we
finally
cross the desert
cross the seas
in search
of the stars?

what if we're stuck in the woods
unknowingly
and the desert's just
another excuse?
or just an exodus, a flight?

the wind's a bit on its soft side now
see I a sailboat
or is it just another sight
obscured
by insanity
revealed
by inanity
to preclude what's not there?
or a prelude? an invite?

since when
I ask you
since when
is alcohol
a friend?

or is it just
a friend of a night?
a kiss of fluidity
where solidity
won't here find hold?

and while I'm at it
what the bleep
would you say
a poem's to be?

the cold of the night
so freezing
less subtle a sign though
I feel I'm unwanted
I cede
with the sweetest
good-bye

Nocturnal Cold


IX: THE ROCK



a haunting, distant melody
a sigh
a whisper
silent
cry
a tale
transmitted
by a proxy
an endless tale
or seemingly so
the wind
wee, wee!
goes 'round the edges
pounds the edges
hardened by ice
hardened by force
rounds, winds along
the wind
wee, wee
'long edges soon smoothened
and sings it the song
of the silentest stone
a proxy singer
proxied a stinger
a proximate find
an ultimate mind?
in proximate, ultimate?
-- untimely seeming
discussions like this
in the now
through the how
by the flow
of the wind
wee, wee
won't looking we later be
for a sailboat right on the sea
driven by wind
wee, wee
and all it here starts
the tale
at this rock
of ages past

as incite we
as invite we
what's now told
and come to pass
shall we listen
(to a time we couldn't claim to comprehend
not lit'rally
lest be insane we)
or shall at least pretending be we
that a tune incite so much?
shall indent we
into scripture
yet another word of myth --
or shall seek we to discover
all that's truly to be found?

a distant, haunting melody
a song of shadows and of light
the interplay of cold and hot
let fissures arise
and split the stone
some, rolling down in afterthought
betraying previously gained heights
and often, unsuspecting sights
have grown to get accustomed since
to rocks uplifted from deep down
by forces rather miniscule
or fluid yet
and all this talk of light and dark
perplexingly
in unison
nor good nor bad
but simply, being
seek a purpose, scheme we
foolishly,
'n all this folly
betray we not just
what's at hand
betray we too our inner self --
and tell me, what's of wonders more
a sound, inscribed by gods a-talkin'
or a melody
just grown?

a distant-making melody
hauling us in
while keeping us out
for now but
to fade
to later
resume

The Rock


X: DUST TO DUST



dust is all that will remain
in the end
so much seems certain
maybe memes survive this day
thought surviving matter's course
matter's curse
and matter's all
we are
for certain
what's inside
stays hidden
(sadly?)
(gladly!)
for quite disappointed may we be:
there's no ghost
inside the machine
what we are
is what there'll be:
an imperfected
adaptation
on an honest quest
for life
not truth
no, never
truth;
we wanna be lied to
wanna be
betrayed
screaming we are
quite constantly so
for all this:
attention
acceptance
love
and reliance upon what deliver we may
a trust
in our faculties
trust
in our worth:
a negotiation quite
want we some value
be assigned then to us
driving us crazy
if no one's there loving us
but what shall we do
we only can try
we only can dry
the tears
and in the end
not even this seems necessary:
the dust
(our dust)
will take to things
quite on its own:

once we have
outlived
our time
our place
our purpose quite
shan't we cede?
shan't grant we room
to those
still having dreams?
aspiring?
to the realms of things so Vast?

see,
I need someone
to show me the path
how pathetic that is
for at the end
the path will be finished
the aim,
an illusion,
and all will have been
a quest of the mind
to see itself
fulfilled
in a theory
quite flattering
to its opinions
of itself

so if there's dust
then at least
there'll be something concrete
something graspable
containable
to be
holding
on to

how's that now
for certainty

Dust to Dust











Interlude One: Tabula Rasa





I. PROSAIC PRELIMINARIES

in the beginning
(what if there was no beginning)
all so empty
void
and Vast
a space of options
space of choices
forms
and figments
unformed
unthought
(thought would still need to be formed here, my dear)
(my dear?)
all that's dear has not been dared yet
not been shared yet
shall invade it
dare a form now
dare a norm now
oh, could dare it
oh, could fare it --
a move of its own
(a mind, that comes later)
that's what here is needed --
for time to now be
for time
to become

what if
however
no such beginning
needed beginning?
is that
too strange
a thought?
it ain't
in the beginning
G-d created heaven and Earth
how come?
needed the G-d
not a beginning
in itself?
if that's not feasible
as it's just doctrine
don't we still
believe
a beginning
t' be needed?
what just, if
the saying is right:
no beginning
for the beginning
no beginning
for the logos
if such were thought
and accepted just quite
how much not easier
for a simple thing
to emerge
than a complex one here
to be?
let's just forget that
that passage
is void

what if now
a beginning
wouldn't just make any sense then at all?
in all that is relative
ain't here not something
is there not but something
or is there but nothing?
a nothing
that is?
a nothing
that's something
oscillating
fluctuating
quite
between some extremes
a neither-nor
and this-and-that
a state of movement
state of flux
nothing
is all
all but
is nothing
(but not a nirvana
for there's no salvation
nor quite the need for it)
and wham!
in an instant
a wink of an eye
all gets unfolded
all gets unloaded
what born by the nothing
still, some things prescribed here
some constants remain
and won't ever waver
(maybe but, though,
in alternatives never for us but to live in)
and gone that now hot
soon will cool down
solidify
while circling a star
and now, there we have it:
a true beginning
a melody swinging
a promise now spinning
(but never promising quite something at all)
a clean slate we get
a blank one, we don't

II. INTERLUDED INTERLUDE

does it need dice
for the game
to begin?
does it need wind
or needs it a sailboat?
does it need words
or does it need playfulness?
some
so I've heard
use words in poetry
by utterly complexedly
in complication all inverted so
constructing
construals
of finest ambiguence
finest
multi-valence
finest so cleverness
finest so
only for finest the minds
t' be grasped
and accepted
with an air
of superiority
not without accident
ain't there been Whitmans
ain't there been Dickinsons
ain't there been those
seeing the beauty of things in simplicity
things still in motion
or, even more quite so
well, ain't it perplexing:
how
in formal simplicity
still
we strive
for risen
complexity?

III. INQUIRY

is there a way
we never could ask
we never could dare
even want but to grasp
just what it might be
that sets us apart
(or not) from what's quite around
for even though
I might not entertain each, every notion
the strangest view
would be an absence of views
a refusal to view
or to see
or to speak

Tabula Rasa








2: Underneath



Notions of Death Notions of Life The Slithering Snake The Stinging Scorpion The Termite's Mound The Jackal The Mole The Ants The Camel Seeded



I: NOTIONS OF DEATH



the night is young
the night is dark
the night is stark:
an omen
a sight
a prelude
for things
still to come:
only the brute
clings to what's not his
when cling we to life
do we cling to what's ours?
cling to
what's true?

this fascination with what's true --
a manic obsession
something
somehow
to be cured?

some say
you should wish
and you shalt get it

some say
don't wish
you might jinx it

some say
don't wish
neither but don't don't

some say
don't wish
and just do

is that the diff'rence?
pensive
and active?

if think I
cling I
to life
or to something
preventing me
from the very thing
I'm supposed
to get near to?

and if so,
what's script got to do with it?

Notions of Death


II: NOTIONS OF LIFE



they say
listen to your heart

what's it say
bang bang

so

I listened
now what?

Notions of Life


XIII. THE SLITHERING SNAKE



why going straight
if round you can go
why go directly
if slide you can well
right to the side
meander 'round left
and then through the middle
or climb then a rock
instead going past it
why use your legs
if slither you can
under the radar
'gainst the expected
'gainst what is done
by whoever
and else
why not pretend
to be smooth
when you're rough
and why
be transparent
when you could be an enigma?

The Slithering Snake


XIV. THE STINGING SCORPION



there's this tale
about a scorpion
who would sting
though that gets him killed
and asked for a reason, respond he would thus:
that's just in my nature
I can't do it diff'rently

we hide
what we want not be seen
what wants not be seen
well hides before us
and lo, 'fore we know it,
disaster may strike
what's come out of shadows
quite out of the deepest, old reaches of mind
and of body
will strike
take its toll
with us, gasping,
wondering:
can this be me?

the devil's due though
sometimes be paid

The Stinging Scorpion


XV. THE TERMITE'S MOUND



strangest creatures
from the depths of evolution's crude imaginings
oddly-shaped builders
and weapon-bearers
clawing their way
through dust and though time
scraping the skies
and digging deep 'nto the belly
of this rock of ages past

The Termite's Mound


XVI. THE JACKAL



silent hunter of the night
though defying our quest for extremes:
neither the pride of the feline so snobbish
nor but the rugged, wild look of the wolf -
right in the middle
rejected
refused
a life on your own -
and care you should why?

The Jackal


XVII. THE MOLE



from the depths
(and through them, so thoroughly)
blind
(though perceiving)
small
(though but teeming with life)
moving some mountains
(ignoring all prophets)
and all in due course
from the depths
(de profundis)
not calling
but doing
and digging
a path

The Mole


XVIII. THE ANTS



a nightmare of moving
a flurry of bodies
all turning round
around
all around
amassing
and massively
the weight of the world
a big part
is them
a single one
so quite forgotten
the following ones
who will remember
who writes their tale
they're so like cells
of single a body
which doesn't quite care
who lives
who dies
and whose are the feet
that turn
the world
quite 'round and 'round
under them

The Ants


XIX. THE CAMEL



a glance
so mysterious
so full of contempt
and slight, noble pity
they look at us
knowing much more
it seems
try we to mimic them
we who need chewing gum
wanting to get
a taste
of their superiority
well,
what's in a name

The Camel


XX. SEEDED



and all below
what seems so barren
seeming so lacking any drive
upon the first sign
heaven's crying
how a growth of green
and color
something's been waiting
something's been sleeping
now to awake
to let it go on
give life duest chance
and all (still) unseen
unlock will all wonders
and open new gates
to what can be made of it:
heaven or hell

Seeded











Interlude Two: Virgin Land





a distant, haunting melody
in all that is
in all to be
and all that was
and all in all
connected here
concocted here
to strangest quite an invocation:
that all be new
once we arrive
the slate be cleaned
the bills all reckoned with
with ease
and all we shall see
a land of plenty
a Canaan of hope
a city so shining
upon a hill
by dreams it all built
with dreams it all filled
and all in its wake
all terrible fate
dissolved
and diluted
with cheer built, with life
contesting all strife

in theory
that's clear to see
and clear to be claimed
and claimed it now be
whatever we see
virginity seeking
the being untouched
by the toxic touch
of life

a claim
and a ploy
a queen of virginity
queen of all chastity
(touchable
yet still untouched)
an image of greed
an image of lust
of possession
yet to be filled
with sanctity
all violated
and all is sacred still
and right...

Virgin Land








3: Thunderbolt



Flickers Shadows Tremors Darkness Falls A Ray of Light Specters in the Night Storms in the Desert An Army of Light An Army of Darkness Fire Reigns



XXI. FLICKERS



cometh now
something wondrous
something strange
to some, a second sign like
almost
a claim (by some)
it came from heaven
('cos that's a place we cannot verify)
once skies
now heavens
so remote
all remoted
from all semblances of life
and death:
the after-life
the after-death
(a death still pending, ain't that it?)
a sign
not a signature
not something
you'd recognize
though reckon with
you'd have to
eventually
in the very case
of an event
do really we see
demons
lurking beneath it all?
haunting
our steps
our world
filled with them?
and be it not literally
be they
in literature just
makes that them just?
or just a ploy
to rule
with powers
through principalities
and in dominions
and with literary might
calling
crying
clamoring
'gainst literal a foe?
a sign:
what goes up
must come down
what goes down
whence did it come from?
announcers of trouble
(of troubled times
or trouble-makers?)
troubled shapers
of the world(s)
to some
they bring life
to others: just death
(there's nothing just about death)
(neither 'bout life)
(but that's quite different a matter)
(though related)
belatedly
some now will cease
in their doing
muttering
in awe
(i.e. in willed ignorance)
about
this sight:
a comet
what brings it?

Flickers


XXII. SHADOWS



a notion
of an absence
when there should be
a presence
or of a presence
where an absence should be
a lingering notion
of a being
(or was it an idea rather?)
no longer there
no longer
within reach
and an image
no,
much more than an image
or still,
just an image
better: just an image
images don't hurt
do they
(do they?)
an image
in the clouds
a text
just happ'ning to be floating by
just now
always now
the time's always now
constant urgency
constant an urge
constant a present
present a constancy
can't stand the absence
can't stand the silence we
always a movement
never but static
always but flux
never just patience
things need to change
things need to move
movement-inciter
movement-inviter
storms it all
and all to better!
sound the trumpet here
my dear
my dear?
nothing's now dear
how could it be:
to feel
means to stand
means to wait
means to see
means to
stop
and let
it
her-him-them-it
quite inside
awaiting
awaking
the other
in the self
the self
in the other
the there
in the where
and if there's no there
and absence just present
now to define
means to move
means to strike:
and haunted by images
haunted by shadows
hunted by gods:
it all will break loose
even if
or, better just,
quite because of that:
if there's no there there
a specter
will haunt us
much more

some shadows
can even be seen in the night
while some
not even by day

Shadows


XXIII. TREMORS



once
all was clear
all was near
all answers at hand
all peace and serenity
all to be found
nothing but lost
all in that time
all in that age
of neverwhen
of neverwhere
inside quite our heads


now, suddenly
all safeties are off
all choices imposing
themselves
upon us
and all that once was
all we held sacred
and fixed quite
and true
'nto fragments dissolved
distorted
and
gone
all things
reconsidered
and all pretty lies
now blown up to pieces
and peace is no more


sometimes
it takes shattered earth
to shatter a life


sometimes but
words quite suffice

Shadows


XXIV. DARKNESS FALLS



the end of love
(of love all-embracing)
the beginning of night

Darkness Falls


XXV. A RAY OF LIGHT



something's ascended
something has risen
a sight
and a spectacle
light
gone wild
an energy
unchecked
and unbalanced:
pure purity
unleashed
unleashing
the dogs
of indifference
the enemies
of ambiguity
the foes
of dissent
the message seems clear:
no inquiry wanted
no questions be asked
the time is now
it's us
it is them
an Armageddon of insanity

A Ray of Light


XXVI. SPECTERS IN THE NIGHT



once everything
's reduced to nothing
once it appears
as if nothing appears
the quietest thing
will elevate its sounds, its shape
and grow 'nto shapes and figments monstrous
aghast we look
and freeze
shivering
preparing
to strike back
'gainst a weasel
like were it a tiger

if even the gods
whom some call benevolent
are to be feared
how to treat those whose goodness is tentative?

Specters in the Night


XXVII. STORMS IN THE DESERT



if live we in paradise
pastures all green
rivers all flowing white-blue with freshness
the hills rolling calmly
the sky our protector and giver of rain/sun
and all to be had
and all to be shared
and nothing else matters
why should we wage war
why should we but fear

the wind
wee wee
tells of forbidden places
quite inside the human soul
(and "soul"'s approximation here)
(something putting closer)
(what afar)
for beneath
the surface of things
concealed quite
even if obvious
it's called an aberration quite
a thing aberrant
from its course
a course believed
to underlie each all
a lie running under
each all
a motive
a plot:
that all behave
and all converge
and all evolve
towards a goal

ignore we the work
ignore we what's happened
ignore we what's done
shalt harvest we
ignorance:
claiming a nature
of things
quite as static
ecstatic a search but
decrying
once hind'ring:
for all that we are
we've come to be
we've made us to be
we've grown
we've become
and could quite eas'ly
be undone

stories are written
with an ending in mind
hist'ry is made
and ends we must find

the wind
wee wee
carrying sand
all over
dust
to dust
do sit we still
or do we follow
the wind
into a paradise of hope
and wonder
and a storm
raging
in deserts all over
should we fight it?
should escape it?
should unmake it?

how do you
unmake
a storm?
and stop a sand
from covering all?
you plant a tree
and then another
and some more

Storms in the Desert


XXVIII. AN ARMY OF LIGHT



'mongst all questions
'mongst all pangs
'mongst it all
that seems obscured
and hid in smoke and fog of uncertainty:
some answers we know
some answers are clear:
a fortress of light
shining
into the darkness
a purity
a design
and a promise
a fate:
a task of divinity
task of determining
wills it what's good:
from fault we deliver
from madness we cure
from doubt quite we raise you:
and know:
a certainty's there
a center of stillness
a center of conviction
that know we
that do we
act
'gainst the darkness that's drawing 'nto hell us
awaiting,
a heaven of clarity
'gainst a storm of renouncing
bow we
under the symbol of light
and bring we its peace
in a quest
truly holy

An Army of Light


XXIX. AN ARMY OF DARKNESS



'mongst all questions
'mongst all pangs
'mongst it all
that seems obscured
and hid in smoke and fog of uncertainty:
some answers we know
some answers are clear:
a fortress of light
shining
into the darkness
a purity
a design
and a promise
a fate:
a task of divinity
task of determining
wills it what's good:
from fault we deliver
from madness we cure
from doubt quite we raise you:
and know:
a certainty's there
a center of stillness
a center of conviction
that know we
that do we
act
'gainst the darkness that's drawing 'nto hell us
awaiting,
a heaven of clarity
'gainst a storm of renouncing
bow we
under the symbol of light
and bring we its peace
in a quest
truly holy

An Army of Darkness


XXX. FIRE REIGNS



what through fire's voice untamed
and quite lost its will to cease,
gained in favor and in might
through the times, in thund'ring roar
a reminder of what's old
and of what's present still
and always:
seek we though
to mete out strife
seek out strife we will in turn
at the edges of what's wanted
crawls the soul, an edge, a ridge;
want we peace: how shall we make it?
want we war: how must we cloak it?
want we at all ---
how shall we find it
how shall all
be said
be done?

Fire Reigns











Interlude Three: Civilisation





in a world of fact
with fictions abundant
why not
let fiction
make fact
an idea
take shape
and shape
what's material?

a human animal
may not be humane quite
if we now tame
do we well educate
or just repress
or refine
'nto oblivion?
(clandestine our kill now
and distant far more)

that live we may
in prisons of glass
built upon clouds
and ideas all cloud-shaped
so cloud-scaped a mind
through elusive illusions
propelling us further
propelling us farther
just hopefully: deeper
and never to turn
back
'tis better, maybe
not to look back
you might learn
you might see
the illusion
's just that

Civilisation








4: Fated Morgue



Ceded A Mind of its Own Canali Dust The Monolith The Petroglyph The Cordon The Theater The Tower The Garden



XXXI. CEDED



earth uncared for
earth undared for
earth so naked
blunt
and cold
with cold eyes seen
and a warmness that was
abandoned it has
all signals of hope
all notions of progress
all signs of endurance
all it all
broke it down
and smashed it down so

a wasteland created
by the waste-makers
of former times
and the passage
of time
their conspirator

Ceded


XXXII. A MIND OF ITS OWN (A JUST-SO STORY OF MEMES)



how so much
does an idea
carry its own fate in its hands
influencing
(determinedly almost)
its infant state
its state of maturity
its state of senectitude
all these
attributions?
or recognitions quite
of what this is
of what's going on:
we
human beings
feel governed by
symbols
words
concepts
we bow to a cross
or kneel t'wards a place
we write 'nstead of living
paint 'nstead of doing
look 'nstead of growing looks through agency:
the strangest sickness:
the detachment
of culture
from nature
the emancipation quite
of the soul

and what remains
is not bones only, figments
it's walls and temples
statues and coins
remains
governed by memes
their story
surpassing
their once storytellers

A Mind of Its Own (A Just-So Story of Memes)


XXXIII. CANALI



see I dust now
into shapes
re-organized
a specter of things to come
an obsession
with obsession
almost

saw some canali on Mars
see we canals here on Earth
that real
and fluid
why
substitute
reality
for
possibility?

(why not? says the petroglyph
later)

Canali


XXXIV. DUST



dust 's what we are
stardust most probably
yet this would again
prioritize seeing
over knowing
perhaps
some things y' only see
after experiencing them
quite thoroughly

like
l'amour mais sans sexe
and vice versa:
the dedication
of those
emotionally dead

those shall be buried
in the briefest of time :
all other commands
would, speak of incompetence thus

all that was an isw
IA JUAT mwmwm
trying to survivr dvse

Dust


XXXV. THE MONOLITH



a vastness of strength
and wondering on
and wandering on?
a message
enshrined
in scepters of arrogance
vastly-grown stone
of static a world
and static a might
static just might
be all
a world torn asunder
by republics of dust

The Monolith


XXXVI. THE PETROGLYPH



and see I the words
and see I the icons
and see them begin
and speak them and hear them
a mountain of thought
behind ev'ry word
and an ocean of sadness
contained quite
within

The Petroglyph


XXXVII. THE CORDON



once guarding life
(a gated community from centuries past,
or millennia)
now posing
witness
for future
assessment
a testament
to our will
for destruction

The Cordon


XXXVIII. THE THEATER



yet in these walls
are words
kept in stone
all petrified
and still, so moving,
how, after all is said and done,
we seek the company of words and people
over the blade of the sword

and right in these tales
a comedy divine
and tragic
so mixed with awe
with wonder
with hope

and buildings of words
and feelings inside
the only ones needed

The Theater


XXXIX. THE TOWER



think of Babel I,
I see the dream
maintaining its force
for towers once standing
are more than mere stones
they stand as reminders
of dreams flying high

and see I the city
see may I structures
encroaching upon us
see I but also
what minds can achieve
once freed
from their shackles
of tradition
prescribed,
not contested

and stand in the City I
the Eternal one
see I
an amalgam of truths once so absolute
holding each other
quite arm in arm
and everything
is redefinition

The Tower


XL. THE GARDEN



grow me a garden
with petals all shining, attracting all gaze
and trees
columns of transience
standing model quite
for tales of our own
aspiring
towards the stars
(and the sun)
all by themselves

find me a tree-grower
returning
the woods
quite to us

The Garden











Interlude Four: Destiny





have a destination we,
is an aim in sight, in reach?
are ever found once lost wee seem?
is there guidance still to be revealed?
is what's said by powers superior
(fatum's what's said)
that which is done?
(god wills it, some claim)
oh, well
no one knows
so the question is different:
so:
do need a destination we?

Destiny








5: What Went Ye Out...



The Dark The Light The Cry The Grasp The Gasp Entwined Alone Enshrined A Clone And Gone?



XLI. THE DARK



surrounded
by a knowing, soothing everything
held in the darkness
to be some day
let go
we're made in an image
of expectation mostly

and this place
of strangest, old gravity
keeps pulling back us
from the depths
of reality
from the depths
we keep calling
for a transcended image
in the clouds
bearing
that mark of expectation:

de profundis
clamamus a te
in profundis
(in the depths)
we're looking
we're searching
for someone there
to replace
the well of gravity
so lost

The Dark


XLII. THE LIGHT



the dark
once penetrated
by a ray of light
a wedge
pushing itself in
seems so much starker
so much darker

yet still
there's this contrast
this option
arising
out of the void
of negation:
twinkle, twinkle, says it almost
in a blaze of glory all
and now: a passage appearing
an opening
slide we
t'wards the new
the unexpected
the unknown: a source of amazement
and wonder
hope
fear

should go we
or stay?

the choice isn't ours
we go
with the flow
of blood
pouring
flushing us out
'nto the cold

The Light


XLIII. THE CRY



how now so
with all of this
all forced here upon us
how now so
should we react
but with a cry
an ambiguity of sorts:
with terror filled our gaze
and amazement:
how now so
could we be thrown out so like this
but fascinating it's so much!

The Cry


XLIV. THE GRASP



wanna hold
wanna touch
wanna grab
wanna grasp
want it all
show it
give it
make it
now
it's all so much
it's all so new
and time's so few
we feel it always
get it on
and do it now:
you know that you want it
as well

The Grasp


XLV. THE GASP



now we have it
have it all
(or are we had?)
through all that's here
in time, seen clear:
weren't told we 'bout Midas?
Ulysses?
and Faustus?
(well, why should we listen
we go
with the flow)
and pop! goes the weasel

The Gasp


XLVI. ENTWINED



some seek an island
a refuge
a place
so removed
so away
from all that's feared
from what is said
from what is done:
collective endeavors
endeavor collectives we?
collect we
connections
connect we
collections
of people
of things
tie we so webs
connecting
and trapping
to hold?
to protect?
to devour --
at last?

Entwined


XLVII. ALONE



once there was sanity
once was inanity
of doing
what was wanted so
and tied to a game
tied to a meaning
names all
and words:
just words
and unjust ones
meaning
no, meaning nothing
we mean
or I?
mean I
on my own?
mean I
or does the world?
(means it all and not to better)
turns!
what turns?
shall we take turns?
who lives?
who dies?
or shall we connect:
collate all that here
and thread them
and bind them
a catalog of life all visible
a library of blood
and minds:
mind we not
the rejection of the I?
shall seek I
or want I be sought?
shall want I
or want to be wanted?
shall make I
or want to be made?

and even if not all the time
some moments there are, I'd like to unweave
what's holding me
tying me
trying me
by standards
of --
of what?

shall value I sanity
value what's right
value what's wanted.

or value I
what's neither-nor
and so unwanted
cause "want" would be something?

for in the end
(and in the beginning)
there's just an I
opening eyes
only to close them
again
and in between
what has id seen? and done? and
lived?

Alone


XLVIII. ENSHRINED



some things
we know
some things
we don't
some things
we don't even wanna get close to
to know
whether we can know
or not

we build walls
erect castles
of protection, some say,
of ignorance, others

when go into the desert we
intend we to see
something else
than what's in what's known?

prefer inaction we
over change for the uncertain
or hope we
while do we
and ask we
what is it about?

what worth is a voyage
when track you have lost
of who you are
and what it is that you want

and even if
wanting is dangerous
it's still the essence
of what we call life
a want without wanting
or a wanting, without want?

if pursue we
do we shape what's to come
or are we shaped
by mere a notion
of what's in a
life?

TREATISE ON LIFE

names are mixing in my head
flowing right into themselves:
people are one,
and symbols become they
for others unlike them but similar still
how do I separate
the fata morgana
from what's really there?

treat I now life as a whatnot a thing as a thing to be treated be treated as something as some thing alive and as something quite living, an entity quite, yes, an entity quiet quiescing our worries quiescing our night - alive we're so surely, would pose we the question (the question!) if weren't we? how stupid a thought: when see we us doing, are but we alive? but see we? but do we? and live we (in turn) (or by definition) define we (what not) define we (what's life) define we (combine we) the known with what's not known, the live with the dark? with the ark? what save we? what would we save? what would you be saving? would save you the past or the present or future? would save you posterity? save you a life? and save you, alive, or save while you're dying? want live you? want die you? draw energy from life or from death? I tell you, my dearest, times are when all I want do is to die, and I could, and this option itself seems salvation so like - I could end it, I know that, so why not continue, for matter it doesn't - and I get to see what's out there, what's not, and all outer limits shall limit me not - I'm dead, don't you see, and so I'm alive - for nothing can hurt me if not it's my self - and life is life for the sake of life and for nothing else and nothing else will hold here, my dear, except love and tears, yes, tears we have plentiful, and love, well, you know ...

oh, frell, I was drunk
whilst having written
this
I let id reign freely
and shocked I quite am
but not 'bout the contents
but 'bout quite the clarity
denied by sobriety
enshrining
what wants not be seen
what want not see we
over all

the I
must be believed to reign free
in the protection
of what sanctions it over all
that not be felt
the wilderness
the thing
underneath

Enshrined


XLIX. A CLONE



so, shall aim we
t' overcome
the emptiness inside
and perceived to come after
by seeking the own
in the other
by making the other
an own?
seek we but company
or seek we complacency just
a mirror
for the image
we like to adore?

A Clone


L. AND GONE?



what went we out
into the desert?
to see?
and what have we seen?
and like we
what seen we have?
if seen we at all?
carry inside us we
anything else
than could here be seen?
oh, seen we it all
what remains to be seen
seems an answer
in deeds
not mere words

And Gone?








Exit



standing
not moving
waiting
not craving
seeing
not asking
all energy lost
all action subdued here
the nothing that hurts
all space now unfolding
in wavering
heat
and nothing's assumed
a tabula rasa
of sand
and of stones
an image
in the clouds
having been painted
unto a canvas
of emptiness
all

Exit



PJK
February 4th, 2006









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