POEMS GROUP 19: PRANAH

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS I:

I SAW A FLY

I saw a fly
crawling on a subway grid map
today
it crawled quite down along a line
and made a turn where 't was supposed to be
the line was orange
then suddenly
'midst all mine amazement
making an unscheduled halt
leaving the line,
disrespectful of all the outlined order
stupid bug
or blessed one

May 10th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS II:

THAT WOMAN ON THE TRAIN

that woman on the train
looking so sad
so sadly beautiful
reminding somehow of Cate Blanchett me
her eyes were screaming, tired but
laid her head upon the saddle of her bike
it made her chin look funny somehow
sadly funny
she looked in my direction
yet there was no direction in her look
a ring was on her finger
and sadly she looked
rose
and left the next station
and I stayed put
we didn't talk
how could we have
I wish we had

May 10th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS III:

I FELT A TINGLING

I felt a tingling
the other day
I wasn't sure what it was
last time I felt like that,
I knew I'd see her
that, now,
wasn't an option any more
still I trembled
was there something I didn't know
I knew?
no, 't wasn't her
't would never be her again, I fear
't was just a reading to be given
just normal excitement
and normal adrenaline
still, once more, again,
despite her absence,
she'd given me that feeling
and though it was killing me
all over and over and over again
I wouldn't've missed it for the world

May 10th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS IV:

I SAW A MAN

I saw a man
an older one
driving his handicapped chair
he stopped for a moment
took another sip from a can of beer
then put it away
resumed his course
till I saw him no more

May 10th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS V:

THERE WAS A BAND

there was a band
supposed to be playing
some country with quirkiness
no quirkiness there
the country was dull
the concert a drag
it felt like a bar in the middle of nowhere
in the center of the city
I had to leave
three chances I gave them
and after the third song
I left

May 10th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS VI:

SOMETHING ON THE NEWS

something on the news
a transport plane over the Congo
the cargo door
opened in mid-flight
and passengers
were just sucked out
like living daylights
they faded away
back into the jungle:
shall giggle or cry I?
I wasn't so sure
't was just a short clip
betwixt other news
of people talking
and people living
and people dying
and people lying
just something
on the news

May 10th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS VII:

SING, WALT AND EMILY

sing, Walt and Emily,
sing of your self
sing loudly and clearly
in common a language
and uncommon honesty
gone are the days
of deep-buried wit -
man, did they talk messedly,
or novels by Dickens -
on multiplest levels in utter complexity
just sing your song
just tell your story
but do it clearly
you wanna be heard
you wanna be read
you're just one of them
so don't pretend otherwise
say what you're feeling
feel what you're saying
and may a fly buzz
when you die

May 10th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS VIII:

EQUAL TIME AND EQUAL SPACE

equal will and equal grace
value now
value how?
how shall we
decide the things
if taught we not
the things that matter
things to keep
and things to discard?
the things of the heart
just fools speak of openly
well, call me a fool
and call sentimental me
I'd rather live at odds with the flow
than die of your coldness,
and false-smiling apathy

May 10th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS IX:

FEEL

feel
the speed
and feel
the slowness
feel
the brightness
and the
dark
feel
the one
and feel
the other
see
the borders disappear
whole
is part
and part
is whole

da da
one, the same
turn the cold around
see it forming
see the icons
see the links
see the building-blocks to come
in dreams deep down
shattered pieces of the whole
pastiche
it all
but there's an author
Barthes my
P P P P P P Poughkeepsie
the author lives
the reader's dead
wake
the dead
and make
ur
life

H.

May 10th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS X:

WHEN SEE I THE FACES

when see I the faces
of folks passing by
see I them passing
as live, sentient beings
see I them passing
but something don't fit
they move along so strangely unmovedly
and once they seem moved
I'm just quite not sure
's to whether they fake it
can this be for real?
ain't human they?
ain't have they a soul
or have they all turned
grown vampires, zombies,
their blood all so cold,
not moving, not hot, just stuck, frozen, stiff -
what's truth, speaks the man
that dared to speak out -
so do you believe
that truth there is still?

May 10th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XI:

I WANNA REFUSE

I wanna refuse
to play this game
for a game it is not
a play it is not
it's not quite a contest
whenever it is
there's speech but not talking
there's words but no text
there's all just in fragments
and manipulation
why should I then, tell me,
tell me now clearly,
we are not toys,
not you
not me
we shouldn't play like this, my dear,
there's more to say
there's more to do
much farther to go
much harder to cope
but sure it's just worth it
how do I know?
I don't, I admit,
it's just
the only hope
remaining
the only thing
that keeps me alive
and keeps you you
and keeps me me

May 10th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XII:

THERE'S A CORPSE

there's a corpse
sitting in front of me
her eyes are damp, have lost all light
a certain air of desperation
a certain sense of all that's been
she's sitting there, and checks her schedule
on her way to work by train
she's been broken, looking stiff
her eyes might tell of past a sparkle
oh, if they could
but they've been killed

May 22nd, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XIII:

INTERRUPTION

bang! it goes
dang! it goes
bam! it goes
phhang! it goes
down the drain
down the gutter
down the life
don't just need it we
superfluous
super-duper
take it back, please,
be so kind
it's just no use
just fantasy tells us to live
reality tells us to die
want dreamers we be
or cold-thinking realists?
capitalists?
communists?
any-what-ists?
fuck the isms
fuck the accusers
fuck the distorters
leave me in peace
to rest
finally

May 29th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XIV:

FALLING DOWN

let me just get off some steam
let me just
get wasted here
give me a bottle
give me a flick
a fucking flick
a fucking bottle
I just cannot sleep
don't wanna think anymore
of her
yet again
today
tonite, tonite, tonite, tonite, tonite, tonite
just one single moment of peace
please, I beg you,
I need her so badly
without her, I'm dead
she won't be here
she won't be near
so leave all your bourgeois sniffing
of so-called moral superiority
or so-called pride
or so-called strength
strength is for fascists
pride is for narcissists
morality for those who don't have it
so give me some space
and give me a bottle
and give me a flick
and give me a pill
and give me some paper to write on,
to deal
at least it's a poem
fuck it, oh my,
I'm so bewildered
so enthralled
so obsessed
and quite so cursed
hear you, please?
call you I can't
see you I can't
but please, can you read me?
and please, can you feel me?
what's happening here?
we didn't need surgery
needed but friendship
see, this ain't working
I'm just falling down
deeper than ever
stranger than ever
longer than ever
longing for ever

May 29th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XV:

THERE'S NOTHING LEFT

there's nothing left
but what I feel
there's nothing left
from what's been before
there's nothing left
and all inner core
just taken away
't feels ages ago
't feels seconds ago
and one single moment
just one fleeting second
is haunting me still
is keeping me still
in deadest a state
and ongoing wake
you see, there's no future
and see, there's no life
you've taken it with you
for see, all those chances
we're hoping so for
it's only so few
or even just one
you lose the one
you may lose them all
and all that it takes
are seconds so few
just taken away

June 15th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XVI:

HOW COULD I

I have gone mad already, you see
and there's no place to turn to here
no place to turn to in the fullest
yes, there's quite not a single soul!
not a mind in unison
not a heart just beating with mine
see it, feel it, what's there to say?
all's just voices
breaking into the darkness
but not breaking it after all -
how can it be -
how can't it be -
how could I, please tell me, my dear,
keep up the strength of the cold-hearted zombies around me so?
how could I, so tell me, an answer I need in the most,
keep going alone when know I you're out there?
how could I, just tell me, believe me, I do need to know,
still stay in awaiting that you might return?

July 13th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XVII:

OMINA

every day now seeing you
in the faces on the street
in faces of strangers
surrounded by figments of you I am
forsaken/forsaker
forsaken I am
forsaken I hain't you -
so haunted I am
by omina
shadowing, lurking, umbring my path
can't see you yourself I
so seeing in others what's lost, still unanswered?
it helps not, I tell you,
just recently then
that girl on the subway, how haunting a presence
reminding so much ---
I took my flight
ran up the stairs
till out of my sight she would be
I'm looking at strangers
what think they, I wonder,
like seeing a ghost I might look, quite insanely -
yet broken links
is all I see

July 17th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XVIII:

GOT FIRE?

someone's just asked me for fire right now
what shall I respond to this?
of course there's fire within me quite working
'tis that which you want?
I hardly believe so,
't would fit you not well -
you couldn't quite handle it,
quite young a soul you still seem to be!
you need it for smoking?
oh, I could well smoke you!
if only I wanted -
be glad I don't wanna -
'tis painful enough to let it burn myself so eagerly -
could stand you the heat?
ask Midas, my friend, like his is my touch
just not bringing gold
but pyre and flood -
'cause love, burning deeply
is worse than all deaths,
so smile I will kindly, reply with a no,
for what I could give you
is not what you want

July 20th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XIX:

IN ITSELF

would you know?
would you see?
would you recognize me here?
see you me? of course you can't
for what you see's a shadow merely
shadow just of things I'm not
of things I can't, I just can't bear -
see you me? I'm just a shell,
an emptied-out and dry-laid well
the water's left from what's to grasp
just as I've left the world already
it's just a shallow hull that's left,
a masquerade of "I'm ok"s
for all I see is empty games
and all's just silly rituals
I barely function, 't's getting worse -
but do I care? I'm somewhere else
I know I'll be
and there's no fear
just slight a discomfort of sorts
it happened long ago, you see
and there's no reason to return
so talk to me
I will talk back
but what's the point
I'm gone already
and what I've seen
can fill a lifetime
in itself

July 25th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XX:

KNOW WHEN TO QUIT

some things need to be done
others are voluntary just
no need to push it
when play out it won't:
weigh out, and ponder:
what is it worth
t' be losing your time
on things you can't change
on rocks you can't conquer?
know your self
to this then stay true
know when to fight
but know when to quit

September 5th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XXI:

WILL

worn-out places
worn-out states
worn-out words all lacking grace
worn-out icons in the void
worn-out themes that seem too coy
worn-out days, can't finish them
worn-out nights, let darkness come
worn-out feelings full of pain just
worn-out life and
worn-out will

September 14th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XXII:

DRINK

want to drink me?
do it now
turn
the energy
right into light
right into nothingness
eternal
drain the sparks
which long have died
turn to better use me now
I've dreaded all these paths too long
the lone and haunted life beyond
and all to sing
this final song
the words will end
and I will cease
returning finally
this lease
remember this
remember me
and still
the truth in all
to see

September 14th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XXIII:

MIRE

drunken state
so balanced straightly
so straightly balanced
straits of dire
straits of fire
streets of mire
taking form
and taking hold
of me
deep down
let the blood
now finally
let it now
and let it
burn

September 14th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XXIV:

FIRE

walk the path you're not supposed to walk
talk the words you're not supposed to talk

open up your self to you
see what's in you, see what's burning
see what's pushing all around you
see the forces deep within
feel the blood
heat up to turn
heat up to circumvent all vents
heat up to keep you from assimilation
see the faces in the stream
see the water flowing by them through them 'gainst them
see the waves
occur around them just, and shaking them
see them suffering, not making them
see them turn their hopes to dust
see them turn their selves to aimless drivel
aimless aims:
ils ne rien savent comme aimer!
watered down their lives and wishes
drained just quite their essence all
down the drain with the water so flowing
their fire's been drowned
their fire's been lost
their fire's to seek
their fire's to peek
heat it up
the water's going up the air
feel the surge
and feel the blood quite turn to life
not to old, to adaptation
not to new, to dull negation
just to life (which knows no sides)
see the fire, demon, life?
hear it howl
and feel its burn
so touch the fire
it won't freeze you any longer

walk the path supposed to be walked
talk the words supposed to be talked

September 24th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XXV:

SIRE

shall I cede a tribute here
tribute to my master, sire
't 's her who made me who I am now
't 's her who taught me
(quite so unwillingly, oft unintention'lly
I may just add)
't 's her who showed me
what's all important (and even through absence)
what's all implied
what's all that matters
made me a pupil
of love (not of crushes)
of life (not of games)
with such kind of mentor
afraid quite like this
who should I fear
who should aspire I to?
sometimes you teach
without even knowing
sometimes you learn
what never you sought
sometimes you see
what fought to evade you
sometimes you love
and life and death
are one and the same

September 24th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XXV:

ADMIRE

la ragazza
me ha catturato
nel incantesimo suo
come scappare
come veder' un' futuro senz' ella

my instinct's just
to go away
for everything reminds just so
of open graves
remains unfinished
rotting silently
alive
not quite
nor neither
gone completely

run away I could
like her
it's what partly I admire
letting go
all old acquaintance
older baggage
oldest life
or not quite, on second thought
throwing life itself away?

(I need to sleep
I need to write
I need to sleep-write-sleep-write
sleep
writer
sleep
biter
sleep
talker
sleep
walker
need to wake
need to break
need to, finally, well, what?)

life is just life
for the sake of life
I know
I've written that down
yet strangely
these are just words
impatient they stay
all words are impatient
they just cannot suffer
what's done to them constantly
they just cannot bear
what blamed for they are
and these, these words
they all connect
they all interlock
they form
the text
the stuff it is made from
the stuff
that I am

la ragazza
me ha catturato
nel incantesimo suo
come scappare
come veder' un' futuro con ella

October 6th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XXV:

ATTIRE

people are asking
how do you do?
how are you, my dear?
or,
how do you feel?
do ask they for real?
want know they the truth?
or say they these things
with some preconception
and some supposition
some ready-laid answers
quite formed in ahead?
shalt answer I truthfully?
answer politely?
answer the question or answer the gesture?
it's not that I wouldn't wanna tell
it's not that I don't appreciate the asking
it's just, you know,
who wants to know
who wants to confront themselves
with what's in my mind?

I tell you not
'cause I want not burden you
I tell you not
'cause you don't wanna know
I tell you not
'cause you couldn't quite help anyway

I know the glances
when tell I the truth
so next time you ask
be sure I will nod
and not utter words I
that would inconvenience you
destroying a moment
you'd want for yourself
I see the gesture
for what it is
say "thank you" out loud
and keep my thoughts
quiet to myself
so, how do you do

October 6th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XXV:

ASPIRE

the poems to come
the words yet to say
the worlds yet to find
the dreams yet to dream
all questions that were
all those yet to come
all answers seem void
all days lacking one
the poems to come
so what shalt they be?
of different a kind?
or different they seem?
from different a way?
the poems that were -
all words well-employed?
the future, we'll see
the future, we'll write.

has all been quite real?
has all been quite happening?
has it been true?
has it had substance?
has it had form?
does it have wind?
we could get some wind for the sailboat
for Mister Bojangles
'cause all men are equal
even Einstein
on the Beach at Wall Street

forms are deceitful
can be alluring
can be perceiving
can be deceiving
can be deceived
can be perceived
the powers that were
the powers to be
the powers to come
in all neat a unison
see I conspiring them
for or against?
may be, indifferent
could be the path
how to be certain
how to be sure?

waltz in the crowd
dance with the chorus
stand in the way
querying all
Socrates-like
what is the truth
what can we know -
is that a life?
is that an option?
is there a rule quite
permitting me so?
I'm seeing the path
I've been walking on
as Klimax it started
a downfall became it
and demons, so hidden
succeeded in haunting me
aspired in taunting me
but failed now in blinding me
when see I and hear I and know I
what then?

though changed nothing has
change can't be waited for
change must be made
I know, these are words merely
children, still young
they have to grow
experience their shocks
experience their wonders
but bear I them must
or born I in vain

let the exorcism start
let the haunters be the haunted ones
let the thoughts
be finding themselves
let them see
and set them free
at last

the poems that were
let loose them again
to see all that were
for what is to come
from the beginning
through what is explained
in chaos and order
in whole and in part
in words and in deeds
still to come
and still
to be

October 6th, 2003

प्रण (PRANAH) - LINKS XXIX:

EXPOSITION:

INCOVATIO
PARS PRIMA: PREVIOUSLY...
INTERLVDIVM PRIMVM: EX ARCHÊS
PARS SECVNDA: GRAMMA
INTERLVDIVM SECVNDVM: PERI TA HORIZOMENA
PARS TERTIA: BERESHIT
INTERLVDIVM TERTIVM: CHAOS KAI NOMOS
PARS QVARTA: LOGOS
INTERLVDIVM QVARTVM: HOLON KAI MEROS
PARS QVINTA: DISCOURS
INTERLVDIVM QVINTVM: LOGOI KAI ERGA
EXVOCATIO

<div class="FRAGMENT 1">

if we were to
see the past
for what it is
see the words
all reconnect
see the paths
all reconvene
and spell it out
and ripped it out
the beating heart
and spelled it out
the truth unwanted
truth unspared
and truth undared so

for what's a truth
that can't be made action
for what's a thought
that can't be made the future at all

pastest past its fires wielding
pastest past its secrets yielding
pastest past its masks disguising
pastest pasts
all breaking down

present now from past is drawn
presented all with thoughts rethought so
thoughts so far away and distant

future shocks now all connected
future all so distant, strange
come to be, in days unknown but scheduled already

</division>

<div class="FRAGMENT 2">

crashing crashing crashing so
crashing crashing crashing down now
crashing all
and cracks all further
cracks appear
and crash me down
cracking down
and cracking up

</divestment>

<div class="FRAGMENT 3">

see it coming
see it growing
see it made
and being made
turns to better or to worse it
can you tell?
and can you say?
turns the fate
or turns it not
know - hear - see
often said
often heard
so often written
and so unthought of
finally
see the form
beget a substance
see the substance
grow a form
so unwanted
so uncherished
so embellished
so distracted
and distorted
see it grow
from past all volumes
see it grow
on dust and bones
see it grow
to new a function
of the old
and all that's been
and all that's written
linked to what now must appear
and future's path
by past so guided
past so haunted
undetermined
though at last

all that's coming
must grow on its own
all that's coming
must know on its own
all that's coming
must go on its own

and words that written
be they unwritten
and books that read
be they unread
yet deeds that done
can't be undone

these are just words
for the sake of the word
these are just children
wanting to know
and pasted together
from the beginning
through the explained
in chaos and order
in whole and in part
all words, deeds to follow
all words, deeds in wish-belief
made it all
and see it grow
and live
for now

</divergence>

<div class="FRAGMENT 4">

the foundation is set
it always has to be fought with blood
'cause it always has to be blood
quia anima omnis carnis sanguis eius est

</divertissement>

<div class="FRAGMENT 5">

the frantic insistence on where do they stand
on what's their position
on how we can classify them
choosing sides?
don't you dare
simplify your life
don't let them take you
your fire
your spirit
your essence
your soul

</diversity>

<div class="FRAGMENT 6">

these little words we've invented
to instantly
just
unjustly, most of all
quite put the blame
and call them names
these evil ones
these liberals
conservatives
conniving
deliberately
conniving
conspiring
confiring
contiring
doing their evil
time and again

</divulgence>

<div class="FRAGMENT 7">

tell me the difference 'tween a know-it-all
and one who, indeed,
does know it all

</divinity>

<div class="FRAGMENT 8">

they are the token ones
they are the broken ones

</diversion>

<div class="FRAGMENT 9">

the powers that make we
that powers that shake we
the powers that take we
time and again

</dividend>

<div class="FRAGMENT 10">

shake it loose
and see it pass
and make it past
and let it go

so
now
then

once

upon

a

time...

</dive>

Die Idyll ist zerstört,
Stimme der Vernunft, o schweig'!
Dem Menschen, der suchet das ewige Licht,

Existierte, Vergessen, Vernichtet:
privatus erat

Was hast du getan mit all deiner Macht?
Den Blick auf die Zukunft gerichtet.
Ohne Vernunft.
Einsam und leer.
Greifend mit mächt'ger Hand
Hell der Mond, jetzt schläft das Land.
privatus est

privatus erit

The running gag in heaven is Man.
Der Geist sucht nach Raum,
Der Schein zählet nichts,
Nichts ist gegeben,
Doch nur die Erkenntnis

Ist Leben
Allein auch hier
In die einstige Stille hinein,
Von Glauben und Licht
Just throwing those tears away,
And listen just to the world's sound.
In unseren Händen
Lesson of death as we saw it.
And all it's destiny -
But my self is a secret and so is your own,
To learn to forgive
Zu wahren die Einheit
Mephisto ist eitel
Doch Zeit ist ein Gleichnis
Wir glaubten zu sehen
Und Türme errichten
Zerstörend die Träume,
So lebt ja die Täuschung,
But what yet to gain?
Das Wort vom Leben ist zu schwer,

Denn dies ist das Ende.
Und ist und wird sein,
Wohl alles und nichts.
Gepriesen wird, wer Falsches sagt,
Away now this stuff!
So all' Gedanken sind nichts wert,
Die Wahrheit zu finden
I'm lacking the truth, and I fear
Irrelevant
Gedanken des Friedens
Tiefsten Tiefen starr verbunden
Das Alte, so schwer,
Und Friede ist dann.
Ergebnis des Segens,
The bridges will burn:
Nicht Dunkel und Tod
So now let go
Du Volk des Herrn, was suchest du?
Was suchtet ihr als Götzen euch?
A shadow's ark,
Inhuman fire, walk with me,
Auch wenn Verderben uns umschlingt,
Aus Blut stets geboren
Away what was known,
In dreams deep down I feel the truth,
Zu bereisen, sehen, staunen.
Zur Ferne der Sterne,
And knows the shadows and the light.
Where nothing but stays
We won't pay with money the darkness to leave,
The masks that now are,
And all the mysteries of life
And form the speech and all derive
And all reflections fade to black.
In allem verbunden, in allem vereint,
Das Leben nicht lüget,
Nein, nichts ist von Anfang im Menschen verloren,
Deep down the masks
Deep down the dreams together think,
Die Ersten ja sterben
Im Staube des Kreuzes gestorben das Sterben,
Betraying all we once had vown?

All' Altes beiseite,
Away, because we have no clue.
I smile but I'm lying.
His kingdom come.
Nur Nicht-Macht kann leben und Leben dann geben,
The fate is my brother,
The tasks come clear,
At waking hour, will we know
Death is life,
Time is as the world a stage,

In nothingness holding,
Just sleeping the world is,
Deconstructing every wall -
Driving safe the dagger home.
What if the world outside is dream?
Il n'y a pas mots?
I construct myself,
In lightened dark
Seeing me from quite outside,
We all do know what's right or wrong,
In time's own flow.
Ahora, no pienso
Te amo, te quiero.
La la la la la la la la -
The troubles of life all behind me
I shall know when I should yield -
What do I flee?
A havoc all
You have to accept it
Can smell its smell of death,
Discernable not
When I look at you
A thousand years -

O day of tears, of tears this day!
'N'all my dreams it is I search you,
The majesty of life - unseen,
A heart we show.
All thinking cruel,
Already dead,
Confront? Evade?
And frogs may fall.
TVRNSITALLANDNOTTOBETTER
The poems to come
Wake
Mais voir, n'ai pu.
Fall'n so deeply,
Somebody missing at my side
Just wanna be honest
All from deepest longings rising
ubi fuis - ibi vadis
Is it fight
Il mio cuore
Lost it all and turns to aching
Substance hidden
et fractus es.
When I see you once more
How can it be
I'm dying within.
All my thoughts
The sound of her voice
And beyond, beneath it all -
Deeds undone now claim to be,
The words that flow an end demand
Wake, and make, and see it all
to tôn pantôn telos

And so it begins
All the paths obscured again
Yet time's too precious
Shut it off
tauta ta pragmata bion kai thanaton epousin hama
Hollow all down here - and stark,
The manu-script, by hand here made,
And get involved.
all and is to be
Prison for your very soul.
A turn this to take
All construction site and camp
Still your name a sacred thing
All so fragile, break it might
N'any now possible seemable dreamable state now to flow into
A poem in lines now here written in chaos and utter confusion -
Makes me be, and makes me me,
Try not to corrupt me,
Do the time-warp
Is twice a better road to go?
Blindness reigns and strikes with terror,
That's the flow of things, you know,
The balance is gone
vae iis qui non sunt
And still, I can breathe,
Aren't higher things here now at stakes?
The past has returned
So downwards it be.
Neither-nor beats right and wrong
But hush now, sweet baby,
To hell all those sermons and lies and deceptions
I want it to end

Is this madness, false excitement,
Time has stopped
And stories have fallen
And felt you the silence
Forget and unmake it
For once you've died inside already
You're unwanted if you're true
Was all just a game?
And fight then your demons
They label a thing and think then they know it:
Falling am I,
comment te dire
Is too much to ask this,
just put a stake right through my heart
'cause this is the end
not quite dead, but not alive;
for what I've become?
I can't just tear my heart asunder
I'm still having hope (I'm not)
am still in love and must not be
that I'm just walking to my grave
and truth is an f-word assigned to the dull
now, it's dark

turn
the cold
around
seek out
know
face
slay
ur
demons
making an unscheduled halt
In a shower of rain
Cried, "Nangnang, Nangnang, Nangnang":
and sadly she looked
all over and over and over again
he stopped for a moment
it felt like a bar in the middle of nowhere
I wasn't so sure
feel what you're saying
I'd rather live at odds with the flow
the author lives
can this be for real?
we shouldn't play like this, my dear,
a certain air of desperation
fuck the isms
and give me some paper to write on,
and see, there's no life
not a heart just beating with mine
so haunted I am
so smile I will kindly, reply with a no,
I'm gone already
know your self
what are you
worn-out feelings full of pain just
want to drink me?
let it now
walk the path you're not supposed to walk
sometimes you see
come veder' un' futuro senz' ella
so, how do you do
has all been quite real?
the balance stays gone
but see I not life?

/
drippy-drop the rain's a-goin'
drippy-drop outside my room
outside my window
fires wailing
now extinguishable being
send me sleep just, lull me in
by your sweet and dripping
lullaby

//

///
the proper book
the proper words
the proper things to read and write
the proper time
the proper space
the proper things to hear and say
the proper way
the proper kind
the proper code to learn and teach
the proper reaches of the mind
and all in all
to shadows fallen
truths all covered
sealed
by fate?

// //
every end is a beginning
each beginning needs an end

// / //
could negate my beginnings I?
could deny my points of departure?
shall I hide what seems too strange,
shall repress what's not my present now?
things that are
ain't jumped into being
things that are
ain't grown out of nothing
things that are
have history
have both an end and a beginning
for what I was is part of what I am
and what I discarded, I did for a reason
and what I retained, as well, or as wrongly -
for life without change
just doesn't exist
and past repressed
negates present being
and paths that unchallenged
will lead into madness
see what you were
see what you are
live what you'll be
and so, from beginnings,
a substance is grown
a web, a pastiche here of thoughts diachronical
thoughts interwoven
responding t' their calls
respecting t' their failures
reforming their paths -
so wake through your making
and see where it leads you

/// ///
if we were
to speak now truly
'bout a start
beginning
rule
if we were
t' concede its essence
as we were
in tightest grasp of it
tightest hold
and tightest being -
if we were
to recognize
what cannot be named
(though still some dare name it)
to recognize
what cannot be owned
(though still some dare own it)
to recognize
what can't be controlled
(though still some dare do that)
to write into being
what's not in our words
to write into being
what's not in our letters
to write in your being
what surely transcends you
what surely extends you
what surely
you are

/
so tell me, my friend, now,
what's in a letter?
what's in a sign?
see it all written
or etched
or just carved
see it all burning
into the flesh of human society
so cycle it through
so see all such markings
so see all such
stuff
see it now
right looking back at you, I'm almost certain
see the sign beget its grin
see the old and ancient ones
secret scepters of priests now so gone
see in their mimêsis
see prôtô-genesis
see in their living
death immature
see in their passing
light gone away
see in their presence
age overcome
see them mimic life itself
shapes of people,
peopled shapes
hear their voices
whispering
shouting
claiming now
a truth unwanted
truth so lost
and still innate

//
see the ox behind the 'Aleph
and the house behind the Beth
see the camel in the Gimmel
and the Daleth shows a door or fish
He's a window
Waw's a nail
Zayin's the sword and sign of lovers
Heth's a fence
and Teth's a serpent biting its tail
Yodh's the hand
and Kaph its palm
Lamedh means an oxen's goad (or shows a lion sitting proudly)
Mem is water
Nun a snake
Samekh is a prop just merely
'Ayin's an eye
and Pe's a mouth
Tsade is a hook for fishes
Qoph's the back part of the head
Resh, the head, alludes to Re, the sun-god ancient,
Shin's a tooth for judgement grinded
Taw's the sign that marks the world

///
see the signs
point back to things
see the things
pointing all back to the signs yet again:
see all that's made
see it made manifest
see it made plentifold
see it made unifold
see it made
the letter
of the law

// //
see the letter
govern the spirit
see the letter
govern the form
see the letter
dictate the past
notate the present
guessing the future,
all in its path:
feel its weight
and weighty authority
feel its grasp
and graspable shapes all
feel its meaning
and meaningful meaninglessness
in Thoth's own grip
by Plato so cursed all
so damned all and stigmatized -
yet do we claim truth
for signs of our making
yet do we claim insight
from signs from the past
yet do we claim truth
and do claim we power

// / //
see the letters
claim a meaning
see them ostracize contending ones
see them call upon our tasks unwanted
tasks undone
and tasks undoable
and make they all possible
what seemed not comprendable
for fixed into writing
just all, once it's thought,
can claim then its righteousness
claim then its liveliness
claim then its fate
and claim then its place

/// ///
see the 'Aleph in the Alpha
see the Beth behind the Beta
and the Gimmel in the Gamma ---
see the Alpha behind A
see the Beta behind B
see the Gamma lurk in G and C ---
and now what we have
is A, B and C
just faceless reminders
of pasts behind pasts
of life behind symbols now emptied and vain
see them here multiply
see them here strangify
see them on papers and screens all so plentiful walkingly
see them stripped of face and form
being made
both caskets and cribs
crying down white, hollow hallways
looking at the world
in tears

it's from what is known
it's from what is limited
it's from what's defined
that comes all we see
all we acknowledge
all we call truth

and all in the limited
all in the properly bounded and shaped
there's harmony sought
and pleasure all asked for to nourish the senses
and nourish the soul

and challenge the mind we
at borders aligned all
and frontiers all edged
and words to be written
and regions uncharted
all wonder and awe
to see just behind such horizons of thought
and cages of wisdom

flowing all so quietly and gentlestly
don't make a noise here, you'd surely be heard
don't you now panic, and don't you cry out:
they seek not the pain
they seek not distortion
they seek not the questions that forced them to think
they seek not the answers disproving their all-cherished faiths

so in beginnings here to rest
and in beginnings here to sleep
lulled quite in
and tucked in so nicely
it's warm here and fuzzy
and feels like a womb
an all-caring force
and all-healing, sweetest and kindest placebo

and interludes can stay mere fragments merely
for what's to be said once the words have been spoken?

each beginning needs an end
every end needs a beginning

/
and now we see
the word in the beginning
the word not spoken, neither written
a word
coming to life
a simple word
obscured beyond all recognition here
can you see it with your eyes now open?
can you open up your eyes?
need rely upon the fables you?
Be reshit
in the beginning
[1]
(in the beginning god created heaven and earth)
put that in brackets
put that in parentheses
something that's put in-between things
in-between nothingness
in-between something that still needs construction
still needs a voice
still needs understanding
and still has to be
has to be
to be
at all

//
in the beginning
in what beginning?
be-ginning and nothingness
be-reshit
Resh, the head, alludes to Re, the sun-god ancient,
see it at the head of things
beheaded the truth all
the truth that ain't made
the truth that ain't seen
the truth that just is
just is
is it made?
just is
justice needs a someone to decide
iuste iudex ultionis
to begin in order to end
an end is a purpose
see the end lie in the beginning
see the end determine being
there's a purpose here, you see?
see the purpose
see the end
in the beginning
and Teth's a serpent biting its tail
see the end
and see what is made
and see what is done
and see what was wrought
and see it all in all its percussion
donum fac remissionis
it's one and the same
it's all in the moment
it's all in the saying
in instant betraying
it lies in the lying
and once, says it all
and once, done it all
and once, done to all
ante diem rationis
in the beginning
lies the word
quando caeli movendi sunt et terra

///
bang
it always starts with a bang
the banging of heads
and banging of bodies
cosmic bodies
coming out of the bang
of body parts
body bags of smaller particles
elementary, of course,
data all in purest form
purest matter
purest own impurity
there's no soul
that's an illusion
there's no spirit
but what's in itself
it's all just life
for the sake of life
all just matter
for the sake of matter
all reborn
in particles smallest
you're a being
made of stardust
re-born into eons of matter and things
re-born into molecules, atoms and quarks,
re-born into dinosaurs, lions and worms,
re-born as a human, re-born as a cat,
be black like a moor it or grey like a grizzly bear,
with eyes like a dragon, a purr full of thunder,
or orange a cat, yes,
or pure cells of mixturing grays, whites and blacks, colors all over

// //
don't drift away
unknowingly
don't drift away
into blissful old ignorance
don't drift away
from what is laid out
from what is just life

// / //
in the beginning
in the end
it's fragments just
and fragments all over
pasted together
with glue of the gluons
dust to dust
and life into life
the true incarnation
of all into all
and life, itself,
its own true end
and own true beginning

/
if you believe there
something to be
that could here lead you
could here guide you
something different from your very soul that is
if you believe to surrender your thinking
surrender your doing
surrender your life
to some higher power
and some higher cause
why would you want that?
want let them you tell you
that life, all by herself,
would have no worth
unless you would mystify
unless you would deify
unless you would alienate
all that it means?

//
hear the words
they're words just, that's all
and don't pretend otherwise
that'd be just careless
for no one can save you
from thinking yourself

misereatur nostri
please, no one be so condescendingly pious, self-righteous and arrogant
omnipotens
is no one but life
deus
who is just life, who is just all of us
et, dimissis peccatis nostris
there's none to dismiss us but we us our selves
perducat nos
yet there's no "us" nor "them" only "I"s
ad vitam aeternam
life is just life, for the sake of life

ut sanctum Evangelium tuum digne valem nuntiare
sanctum is nothing, worthy we're all by just being alive

ecce agnus dei
but we need no sacrifice
ecce qui tollit peccata mundi
no one can take it for there's just life and no sin

domine, non sum dignus
but worthy you are
ut intres sub tectum meum
you don't have to enter, you're always inside of me
sed tantum dic verbo
you don't have to speak, for I always will hear you
et sanabitur anima mea
it needn't be saved, we're saved quite by living

and I tell you, my dear,
there is no baby in the bathwater
any more

/
goes without saying
goes without staying
goes without speaking
goes without seeking
goes without hearing
goes without steering
goes without anything
anything goes
but nothing can go
nothing's quite willing
to stand on their own
to recognize truth
as something innate
to recognize living
as own quite its purpose

//
stop this
shiiiiiiit
don't know what to write
don't know how to ride
don't know to begin
I need to begin
[1]
oh wait
isn't there another book?
[2]
this is not Christian
it's quite Platonian
if not Platonic
the utmost detached
the utmost in theory
utmost in griplessness
utmost rejection-born
utmost in speech-laden intellect-poisoned BS
the word
as if the beginning would have needed a word
the only word worth speaking
D.N.A.
would be hitch-hiking the galaxy far later just only
no, my dearest,
there was no word
not the least spoken
in the beginning

///
only Glass and Rig Veda perhaps[3]
enter the symphony 5! (and not that by Haydn, who knows that one, anyhoo)
taa taa taa humpty dumpty humpty dumpty humpty dumpty humpty dumpty
taa taa taa humpty dumpty humpty dumpty humpty dumpty humpty dumpty
taa ta ta taa ta ta taa ta ta
tatata tatata tatata tatata tatata tatata ta ta ta ta ta ta ta ta
yada yada yada yada
there was neither non-existence nor existence then
there was neither realm of space nor the sky which is beyond
what stirred?
yes, what stirred?


H.
the Cannibal hath spoken!
the cannibal feasting on human intellect deficient
using his own, soul-deficient, monster of coldest intelligence!
see him be eaten by hogs, perhaps, I dear you (but by then, we'd all have grown such a sympathy for the poor Hannibal that is just the even poorer Mr. Hopkins, having refused English noblesse for coming to America, and rooting against the evil, depraved, mutilated, even more sadistic fucker (literally! at least in the past), the poor Mr. Verner, and give him, in turn, over to the pigs, thanks, Mr. Zimmer, for such a beautiful score, what you've done with Strauss(Jr.)'s perfectly decadent little valse is now so much better and lacking in duration what it makes up in cruelty and deviance, hell, this is it! the revenge of the so-called entartung, slaying the sly, slaying convention, but have you GOT to be so brutal and drastic? the blood? our little kids! they should not suffer such sights, it makes them evil, so Blame Canada! the Cannibal of all that is abundant and deviant and brutal and injust in America. White Ameriqaaaaaa! Remember little Eric and little Eriqaaaaaa! oops, words just slipped out my mouth
words just slipped
words just
TTFN
ta ta fucked now
or did that go differently?

en archê ên ho logos
how the frell do people always believe language would equate thinking!
they just don't any more know how to think
how to think with your lower regions
with your dick or your cunt
with your blood deep down and your eyes turned outward in
and inward out and your mind
your mind
going totally insane
insane in the brain
no, insane in the membrane!
we're entertainers for the stupid,
ain't that right
but not for the stupid unable to read
and not for the stupid unable to learn
(just cause, little funny note on the side,
there wouldn't be money even to clothe or to feed them)
no, it's for the stupid who's able to read
but reads not for knowledge and self-inquisition
let your thoughts be your own good-cop-bad-cop-game!
let you be your own, most cruel, inquisition!
ta ta - yes, we're back! and meaner than ever!
What stirred? Where? In whose protection?
Was there water, bottomlessly (short pause for mere deepening effect) deep?
There was neither death nor immortality (the THEN is left out for matters of protocol)
There was no (distinguishing, to be precise) sign of night nor of day.
That One breathed, windless, by Its own impulse.
Other than that there was nothing beyond.

yodel ching-duh! yodel ching-duh! yodel ching-duh! yodel ching-duh!
ta ta ta ta ya da ya da

creeeeeeeeeeeeskendo!

ta taa taa ta
ta taa taa ta
(y'all know that Glassy tune of things, of course) ya da ya da

Darkness was hidden by darkness in the beginning,
with no sign, all this was water.
The life force that was covered by emptiness,
That One arose through the power of heat

ta taa taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam you know the drillholes
drills the energy with might
into the deepest stony phoney stoned rock-bottom
lets no reason neither might
just stand beside
and stand in sight
they're drilling holes
they're drilling holes in Duane Barry's teeth!
and through the heat
through the power of heat
the heat in the system
the heat and the pounding
and pounding so sounding
and sounding astounding
I'm kidding just now, I'm sorry, almost,
I know the topic's a serious one
and words that uttered concerning religion
should not be taken lightly just so, as it seems,
and I shouldn't make fun of things,
or criticize things in utterly cynical ways
that seem important to so many people
well, this well-spring of all, the words that form
the thoughts and the wishes
the serious dogma and serious knowledge
and serious complexions and serious kneeling
who am I t' be saying these things

who am I
who do I think I am

cogito
ergo sum
ergo eram
ergo volo
volo esse
cogitare
inter omnes, inter voces
inter tanta omnia deiecta
omnia
panta
panta rhei
panta thelei
panta tôi en hois tois logois
hois tois logois aristois
presbyterois
presto, mi amici,
andiamo, siamo,
memento
ti amo
memento mori
ti volo
memento vivere
ergo erim
ergo sum
ergo pathô
pathô[4]
I feel
isn't this related to pathos as well?
could it maybe be pathetic even?
shall I try a treatise here?

Pathos. Greek. Noun, masculine. Singular. Root: pat-, path-. Related is the Latin pati, to suffer, endure, alas, the patient. Nowadays, the patience with pathos is declining, it is often perceived as pathetic. The Lord of the Rings is pathetic pathos, lacks irony. Irony is the prime enemy of pathos. Pathos is the prime victim of irony. Notung, made of the strongest iron, destroyed by Wotan's staff when in the possession of Siegmund, destroys, remade and carried by Siegfried, son of Siegmund, great-son of Wotan, remade under the guidance of Wotan, the wanderer, destroys Wotan's staff, quasily-emasculating the god/father, by that one's own volition! Wotan having a vasectomy by the hands of his grandson who is about to conquer the death-demon, the Wal-küre, the god's daughter - isn't this ironic? (at least, related to iron it is) or is it pathetic? Siegfried carries the ring, stolen by the fallen creature, Alberich-Smeagol-Gollum, and Mine wanted to have it! the dragon had to be slain! ascended he had, Fafner, mayor of Sunnydale, by the power of the ring, and Mine wanted to have it! Mine, mine precious! Professor Chaos has seized Backdoor Sluts Nine! Eleven years old, maybe, fourth grade in this redneck mountain town. The two towers destroyed by the Ring? What is this heresy? Who carries the Ring? Bring back! Sing it Back! the Rheingold to Mount Doom and unmake your fate. This is your destiny. This is your pathos. Ironic pathos, to return to us in the age of Buffy and poor, dear John Crichton! The human is superior! Like stung by a Scorpius, scarring the peace, the peace of mind, find me the peace-keepers, Officer Sun! Giving us peace! Da pace, signora, hail Jasmine, my precious! No wolf, ram & hart shall spike this here up, the soul of an angel is all that shall save us, to help the helpless, white night in satin armor, saving Cinderella again, wants she be saved? Much with the damseling? For save herself she just can't? And, furthermore, how can we be sure whether she's saved? Well-behaved, or just another dirty girl devoid of serenity? Chastity! Abstinence! Mind over matter! Death before life! p align is justify! p for pathos, paragraphed life, paragraphed knowledge, patient experience, pathos controlled and quite but infected with all that controls us and all that wants subjugate, all that wants emanate not but wants imamate imminent imitate art, imitate life, doesn't life but imitate art? the choices made in the West Wing, the problems discussed there on KACL talk radio? Frasier Spiffy Crane to the rescue! let the babbling psycho therapy your life! Freude! Jungsein! Frommheit! Reichtum! Gruen behind your ears - and eyes, and hands, and mouth, and nose, spirit? Zeus is the spirit, the atman, the semen in the wind! Gone, he can't seed us any longer, Prometheus quite made sure of this. For he took the fire out of the spirit and made it a tool just to use as material. And now, what but have we? Spirit-less, fire-less, babble-talk aiming for solid constructions and solid-made discourse once flowing so freely and flowing so dearly and WHAT do we see and WHY do we fear and WHERE are we going and HOW do you live and WHO do you trust? But trust's in the spirit, and trust's in the feeling, the pathos, the eidôla, all in ideas, all in the specters, all in the words that represent not, that do not just mimic, that do but create! Representative Men! Representative Women! Representative Cats! That do but create! Truest, all poiêsis, truest, all genesis! Can it be true? All I rejected, all I abjected, coming now back, intruding here quite, not through the front door but to the rear-end of it? In the beginning the word made heaven and earth and the word, the spirit of creation, is just called by the name of God, and God is existence battling non-existence and non-existence battling existence! And the path is to feel all that is there, patiently? impatiently? not without pathos, I dear you, I beg you! Reclaim you the fire that stole once Prometheus, reclaim your own deity, dearest Euhemeros, tried you not show us, Gods once were humans? Humans were Gods - gods now in ruins? And here lies the heresy, herein we find it: I Am The Lord Thy God And Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Beside Thee? Oh, there are plenty of gods, and more, goddesses right around me! Shan't we behave like that? reclaim our power, reclaim our authority, and see our commitments? Responsibility, god as creation, creation as god? or as goddess? (maybe now I am possessed by that woman sitting in the corner, I don't know what to make of her, how to approach her, if ever, - so radiant, thoughtful and feeling a glance? But I am too hesitant, I am an animal that feels not like dying but rather like being quite dead already for the outside.) There's Aragorn looking at me from the jacket of a bottle containing non-heavy Pepsi. The king quite to be - how I hate that awe-demanding, fake and quite naked authority! Respect my authoritaaaaaaaaaaay, sayeth the little Eric, the Cart-man! It is words quite that made Middle Earth, and have seen you the Ring? There's words that are rotating, burning inside it - one ring to burn them all - and keep them out of the Wal-hall, the palace of gods - so it's just right it needs to be thrashed, so that we can rise out of its ruins. Power rising from ruins may be quite different from that rising out of shiny, happy palaces. People traveling through ruins may still smell that stale breath of power auctorial, power demanding and power imperial. divid' imperaque! divided and conquered we are, estranged from the body, estranged from the soul, and all this poor pathos shall cede here for now.

Desire came upon That One in the beginning,
that was the first seed of mind.
Poets seeking in their heart with wisdom found
the bond of existence in non-existence.

of course there's more here, need to stop it,
need to cut it, cut it out, and cut it down

Whence this creation has arisen -
perhaps it formed itself, or perhaps it did not -

and at the end,
in the beginning,
en archê
bereshit
silence just
in utter cacophony

// //
it is a word!
it is the substance
it's the thing that makes us go
it's the key
the key to life
to the dawning of life after maddening night
in the words
that substance mean
in these words
these words of all
see the meaning
see the means
see the memes
see the mean and mighty maker
there's no maker
but the stuff itself
auto-genesis
auto-progenitor
auto-incarnated
auto-inspired
see the substance
reveal the creation
see the creation
reveal it's substance
elements
on voyages eternal
places
in moments so hidden
faces
removed by façades
passions
but mimicked in artifices
truth so hidden
in words
and in myths

// / //

[5]

// // //
et logos fuit verbum
et in verbo
quaesumus
oramus
habemus in absentia
oremus
pro salvatione nostrum
pro sensu vitae nostrum
pro anima nostrum
pro spiritu nostrum
de parentibus nostrum
pro filibus nostrum
pater erat
filius erit
spiritus est
nunc et in saecula saeculorum

pater noster
qui es in verbo
sanctifactus nomen tuum
patificetur regnum tuum
quaesumus voluntatem tuam
sicut in vita et in verbis
panem nostrum cotidianum nos damus hodie
et dimittimus nobis peccata nostra
sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris
et ne nos inducamus in tentatione
sed liberamus nos
a verbo
pro vita

vita est vita
gratia vitae
neque pro verbo
neque pro deo

[6]

logos is hybris
life's all there is

/
somehow I feel
I need to clarify things
can I clarify them at all?
is this hybris driving me here,
shifting amongst languages and thoughts so ancient and common,
or is it necessity,
the gnawing feeling that something needs to be made clear?

or is it both, perhaps,
or is it the wine speaking out of me,
Dionysos returning with a vengeance
to a reformed once-Catholic fanatic?
guiding the pagan, the heretic, the apostate Don Quixote de Nuevo,
fighting the windmills of thoughts and confessions-obsessions?

is it the body that's speaking,
the shivering, sleep-deprived, lonely one seeking Elysium,
or is it the soul,
the hot-burning, tireless, lonely one defending that place already found?
those who've been hit by lightning enter a special place,
that place is called Elysium, they've been hit by the arrow of Zeus,
the lucky ones who've felt the energy of life -
or are not luckier the ones able to make that energy themselves?

making is poiêsis
the creation of things
the manifesting of spirit
the sharing of voice
the unending craze
poetry is the fire that drives the words forward
the very tangible thickness of life
breathing out itself in a long, lasting blow -
the poetry of speech, sound, sights -
the underlying force of creation
of poiêsis, of making something stand out and just finally be
art as it is art
its function being self-fulfilling
its essence being its being done and performed

so, how do we capture it?
how do we grasp it?
how do we,
from the multi-dimensional,
multi-remedial
text
derive form, content, function?
how do we, simply put,
just deal with it?
we don't.

art is life, the genuine article
it cannot be dealt with
she doesn't do deals
art hates corruption
art hates the easiness
art hates the on-going circle of nonsense compliance
art is the plentifold
art is the unifold
art is the center, the carrier, key
it is the way to entertain life
it is the answer that cannot be spelt
cannot be dealt with
and cannot be known

//
be kalm
the whole room now falls and turns with me
like little rectangles ascending in boxes
and me in the center
lying down all amidst
and me as well
as all-seeing looker in things that I,
as an author,
set here just in motion by popping the fucking pill
and feel you all extending
all so extreme
getting stiffer
harder
weaker just to control them at all
descend into the maelstrom
from incessant coughing
the body be felt through cathartic pain-rituals
cleanse it, and
wisse:
wer alles verlieren will
wird er doch trotzdem behalten
ist abschied von dingen
what kind and green
(where here to write?)
what are these, nymphs, elende nicker!
erst schmeicheln sie, nun drohen sie
elendes lügengepack
oh, Siegfried, you're such a beast of stupidity
too proud to b' list'ning to a feeeeeeeemale!
die now, sucker, just as well
(I cannot decipher the letters I wrote
wrote I letters there, devise cannot I)
make them seem
see 'em now
our brainchildren walking away
the Alben have known
dass noch vieles tote schläft
und ein einziger will
ja ein einziger
(I believe the lampshade explode its tentacles
and talks with itself
or somebody else
otherbodies exist
talk to them
it hit me
how terrifying!)
a hit of light to hit me
bit I am afraid
the only option is to
switch
but it's shining too strangely
it's not just a lamp it's a ruling
the fun itself
for me
doch götter
Zeus!
was tun
die götter sind besoffen
und vollgekotzt ist der Olümb
jo, san's de Baier ma wiedr g'wäsn
and could we switch to English please?
I'm not that comfortable with German
it's such an awful language at times
and what about you, sueña, the girl,
dearest friend and truest love (I wished)
this is where I should be getting off
get off Cartman's mom
bitch but bitch but bitch but (butt?)
kingkamehamehamehameha biatch
love's the bitch
or love's bitch I am
kauftest du da diesen hof?
nein, meiner ist's
nicht meiner
wir richter aber waren nicht bestechlich
und an dem urteil kann man's sehen
it's all in my mind
my fucking boy
and intellect is the danger
and the danger
wussten sie, was sie taten?
(laughed)
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEnglish!
wahrscheinlich nicht
wie könnten sie
there's someone on television
and do you know, Highway 209
has died near the bridge at Rhinecliff?
and the Rheingold appears to shine through the Hudson?
hat schon.
there's someone on television
right now
can't see him, of course, for switched off it is
and rightly so
Angel's out
Fred's dead
like lambs to the slaughter
but seriously now
some sheep was their wool taken from
was trying to count it, now I'm so terribly confused
is it still a sheep without the wool, or hair,
or is it just an empty shell right now?
stop quoting
but the wool!
wooooooooool drooooooooooool
gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooogle
seriously
wool taken from the
but the wool-growing then is fabulousest a business
wooling-paloozing-spinstring
now it's getting fake
wool on the, is that wool on the lampshade?
that lamp, it starts to look conspicuous
what's it doing?
no, it's no wool
so what are you talking about?
believe me
it's just about to kick in
the sense of it all
any time soon

///
and cannot be known?
and cannot be dealt with?
and cannot be spelt?
the spell's been broken long ago
and holds no grasp here any longer
we are the cynics
and nê ton kyna
since long has replaced
the nê ton dia
of times so past

what once was in wonder
in awe, admiration
now feels the cold and the mind-over-matter
unwove we the rainbow?
forgot we 'bout life?
forgot we the truth
that made the beginning?
I don't talk religion
(just don't get me wrong!)
for isn't it true
what once has been said,
it isn't the priests any more
feeling closest to the divine
it is the scientists
touching the works
touching the majesty
touching the fabric
quite of reality
science and wonder
still are but linked
watch but society
what do you see?
the cynics again
barking like dogs
and pissing around
marking their territ'ry
'round and around
what goes around
should come around
but see you the faces?
and hear you the voices
and know you their names?
you don't
they are "strangers"
just prostituting our privacy
but sharing not
their humanity
the Jerry Springers
accept their confessions
in public soliloqui
we wanna have fun
we wanna be cool
we need here to work
and then to relax
so gimme a break
and let me chill out
I needn't know
'bout what's here at stake
'bout what's to be known
'bout what's to be done
just leave me alone -

oh, dearest, true irony!
dearest, true sarcasm!
never but cynical
for dogs we are not
we need no leader
we need no alpha
need just a friend
who's true and who's honest
dearest, true sentiment!
senti-mentality
seek we not thee?
sought we but thee
were we not cynics
were not to strive we
for strength and authority,
apocalypse-nowish
this all here to seem,
and terrorized all
and storeys have fallen
and stories begun -
the whole lies in parts
the parts lack the whole
and fragments all over
we all have become

/
if we were
to speak now truly
'bout a start
beginning
rule...

and if we were
to see the past
for what it is
to see the words
all reconnect
to see the paths
all reconvene
to spell it out
whilst ripped it out
the beating heart
to spell it out
the truth unwanted
truth unspared
and truth undared so

the foundation being set
it always has been fought with blood
'cause it always had to be blood
quia anima omnis carnis sanguis eius erat

these are just fragments
for fragments we are
and snippets of thought
and snippets of genes
splicing and multiplying itself
selfish genes in selfish bodies
destined to make society work
the words of the world
Adenine, C₅H₅N₅
Cytosine, C₄H₅N₃O
Thymine, C₅H₆N₂O₂
Guanine, C₅H₅ON₅, or Uracil, C₄H₄N₂O₂, respectively
these are the words
four letters
four substances
four elements
C, the solid, earth-bound fossil,
H, which makes up water's major part,
N, the stuff the air is made of mostly,
O, which fire lets its reign begin
and numbers six
them all combine
one two three four five six

(one to three four five six?
one to three four five six?
one to three four five six?
what to people want? …
what to people want? …
what to people want? …
say you here, what does Mr. Glass want
Einstein to be doing on the Beach
at Wall Street?)

bonded together
and spiraling up
as backbones of life
four letters
A-C-G-T
and U being needed in case to combine
to produce
to create
an RNA of DNA
producing the catalysts
that make us go
and make us make
copies not of our selves
of our genes just
smallest parts
combining endlessly
competing endlessly
genes as the memes of biology
memes as the means of cultural text

so shall I introduce the meme meme here?
introduce would be a strange word though
'cause t' was the Dawkins
who introduced it once
in the first place
its beginning
its very beginning
its archê
its genesis
its generation
and its birth

for there are beginnings
for there is creation
for there is a time before, and an after,
and as long as time
as such
exists
all other things
aren't parallels
aren't coinciding
but have sequence
basic sequence
basic rules
and basic words

rules can disable
rules can here bind us
rules can enable
and rules can allow us
to start in the first place
to set us free
and not to bind us
to make a playing field so vast
that all's allowed that leads to life
that lets evade our death so certain
lets us see
what's here at stake
not just what's lost
but what's to gain

for if we not see what is good,
in the beginning,
the path will be doomed, and lead just to failure
a catatonia of "I don't know" and "I'm afraid"
life is not wishing
life is not hoping
life is not worrying
life is not moping
life but is doing
life but is hearing
life but is speaking
life but
is living

in the beginning
God saw
that it was good
and it was good

//
and god saw
but god didn't see
and god couldn't be
and we
wouldn't see
wouldn't plea we
and flee we
flee
into another world
another place
and destiny
where is the might
pushing us onwards
where is the fight
supposed to be fought?

let me speak truly now
words but obfuscate all meaning
language here gets in the way
oh, I wish for telepathy!
indeed rely we must
on texts so disfigured
texts so defaced
and filled so with secrets
and old just as new

ain't this like a scroll of scripture rolling down?

ain't we have now books and pages?
but in stead, we scroll again
we hear again
we make again
we need no mediator here
is this a new text or an old one?
brings it old
within the new?

what is this here, what is here made?
shall quiver I
at past a curse
and present burden?
what shall I make
what have I made
what's made of me -

for truly I speak,
for I am the author
and this is my text
and I am just telling you
because I here can

the beginning is set
it's cemented not into stone
but into bits and bytes
and poiêsis
is seen again
and seen anew
and see you not?
the message's the message
the medium's the medium
the text's the text
and life is life

///
if we were
to speak about
a start
beginning
rule
can rule I out
my previous mentors
previous texts
and previous life?

what else is new
what else is old

the author makes
the critic is a parasite
who makes the author stronger, weaker
but doesn't create
and only is second

so talk if you may
discuss if you may
you can't deconstruct
what not understand you
what not comprehend you
for in the end
it's just about life
it's just 'bout experience
and staking
your claim

/
or is it not?
or is it just
an amorous playing with words?

//
is there not a narrator, you ask?
oh yes, my dear,
you silly child,
the narrator's a puppet
the object
of the text
and the reader
is its victim
made by the author
I victimize you
so that I'm not made
a victim myself

///
shall I cede a tribute here
tribute to my master, sire?

do I have a single one?
I've got parents
those that made me
biologically
as form

what's my function now, I wonder
what's my merest destiny?
what's the poodle's core, I'm asking?

no, I'm not
I'm just posing
I'm just playing
look, how playfully I work here
for these are just words
for the sake of the words
these are just letters
fleeing across
the page
made into words
made into senses
come to my senses
I somehow just might

I just bought a Sherry for 10 bucks right here
ain't that insane?
it's so inane
just here to write
just here to share
my plight

// //
can I make
a difference here?

// / //
I need to end it
need to bend it
need to stop it
cut it
down
and somehow
there should be mandatory minimums for words as well

// // //
for everything else
after this
pastiche just to be
I could just go on
could just here ramble
could just here scramble
for making a sense
out of the senseless

/
art is writing your own life
writing my own life
auton bion graphôn
dialegomenôn
hemon
writing
for my self and strangers
dearest Gertrude, we are not strangers any longer

//
nature knows no paradox
the paradox is made by culture
it's made by what we make of things
and remade all in oldest light
things are what we make of them
how we govern
how we shape
the governmentability
governing mentality
the powers to be
where are they, I ponder,
or are they at all?

///
and "as it should be"
must now be rejected
must now be abjected
for what do we know
and how do we dare
t' impose on the many
the might of the few?

// //
ou topos
a place that not is

eu topos
a place that's deemed good

are they the same?
I fear but they are

what choice but here have we
to b'lieve that as false?

// / //
history
can't make us slaves
history
just should here free us
should make see us
where to go
and what to avoid
original sin
's a ploy for the meek

/
it flows
it grows
everything grows
grows into beings
grows into things
grows into stuff
stuffy old texts
fully-stuffed textures
making it work
bleeding it out
bleeding new life
into things
not eternal by nature
eternal by culture
eternal in nature
just by the building blocks
of life
of matter
matter it must
building it up
upping the ante
time and again
everything lives
everything dies
need we make room
move aside
and fade away
in the end

//
but not without
having done
what needs to be done
having added
what needs to be added
having addressed
what needed addressing
having augmented
the text of the world
set by the augurs
set by the watchers
of states old and new
of matters of power
and matters of
the soul
demanding from us
obedience here
but who here demands
who here us challenges
who is the master
who is the slave?
and these seen in power
are they the masters
of what's here to come?
why but here think they
they need control
why but control
what's not having power
why but subject
what's deemed quite inferior?
why then should restrict they
what needed but growth?
why then should forbid they
what well could but serve them?
and join them in union?
there's something wrong
with the picture we see
we're made to believe
we're made to accept

///
so substitute just?
you will just become
what set you against
for, do you believe
some people decided
let's just be here evil
let's just here be bad?
how strange would that be
how terribly wrong
could you then be better
following Caesar's throne
a true augustus
or just another petty tyrant
looking at the world
in spite?
(ave, popule,
tyrannus mortalis est!)

// //
think better yourself you
than the world
to be?

for this is a sin
that still rings so true

somewhere is said,
it's those filled with best, good intentions
believing themselves being better
knowing the answers
wanting to shape the world
in their image
doing most damage
time and again
seeking a new man to be made
out of the old
out of what's there
how but here know we
those are the answer

// / //
how worse now but is it:
the artist is a tyrant
imposing their sight
imposing their ways
unto the world

// // //
how worse now but is it:
those shaping the world
promising life
promising liberty
promising that other stuff
while clearly we've seen
that promise is a limited one

the promise can't be made for all
when it can't be fulfilled
for all
at all

so why make promises at all?

can we be
like all the others?
can each of us be
as individualist
as any one else?

what's the narration
driving that on?

/
the discourse flowing
like Tethys surrounding the world
a chatter of voices
talking themselves
as they
themselves
talking
and walking themselves
are made
and talked into being
a (be)reshit
and genesis
and logos all
and hubris all
as if we could
create ourselves
as if we could
narrate ourselves
as if we could
invoke our presence by the thoughts alone
so
if we were
to speak now truly
'bout a start
beginning
rule

don't we need
to talk about
an end
conclusion
aim?
ton tês archês telon
tên tou telou archên?
teleological
archeological
any-how-logical
related to logos
as always, of course,
logos is haunting us
following
leading us
quite by the nose
if we were
as we were
would we have logos
at all
in the beginning?
a logos
a nous
thinking the logos
being it all
the soul of the world
manifesting itself into the souls
of the worldians?
a nous
governing all souls
ruled by the logos

a discourse
governing all beings
ruled by the words

post-modern my ass
this is not post
this is quite pre
this is quite ancient
one word to rule them all
coming out of the depths of academies old and new
teaching reliance
over self-reliance
teaching citation
over creation
teaching passivity
over experience
teaching partition
over inclusion
teaching abstraction
over compassion
teaching the babble-talk
over all action
but power
lies not in the words
and life
cannot be found in abstract reflecting
abstracted from truth
abstracted from life
concrete an estrangement
an estrangement not quite of the body
but quite of the mind
and quite of the essence
and quite of our nature
and quite of our soul

so give me not poems
that delve into forms
and give me not texts
that delve just in rhetoric
and give me not speeches
that mean just to show
the speaker's mean thing
for power is real
it can't be confronted
by manicured speech

as much as words can hurt in deed
the more the damage lies in deeds
it's what's not done in words
that constitutes hardships
that fosters the sorry state of affairs we're now in

the problems of others
are none of our concern?
the experience of others
can be appropriated by words?
what is this madness
what is this blindness
what is this fear
of touching a problem
that is quite particular?
as much as human
and quite universal

each murder
murders us all
each violation
violates all
each toxication
toxicates all
and each starvation
diminishes all

see you not, dearest,
when talk you of others
we mean our selves
when talk we of "others"
we'll only estrange ourselves
become detached
to what makes us beings
to what makes us us

the woman raped
a continent away
is your sister
your mother
your wife

the boy made a soldier
some land miles away
your brother
your father
your husband

the homeless next doorstep
could surely be you

and nature destroyed
beneath all our feet
is made from the stardust
that's given us birth

you can't disconnect
what's quite intertwined
you can't quite abstract
from so much concreteness

they say
there's a chain
of six different people
connecting yourself to all of the other ones
so you are quite
your brother's keeper
you are quite
inside this world
what's global is local
what's local is global
and all's
universal
e todo il mondo sì è un paese

uncountable
the number of children starving each year
uncountable
the masses of food just thrown away
uncountable
the number of people killed by a landmine
insignificant
the price of a mine or a gun
and quite so visible
the powers that are and the people that kill

there's no truth outside the text?
so who guides the pen
and who writes the words
and whose are the neurons
and whose are the genes
and whose is the blood
quia anima omnis carnis sanguis eius est
quia anima omnis carnis genomon eius est
legomena
genomena
and anyway

who wants to challenge
the essence of life
the slate that's not blank
the universality of experience

for those denying truth
open the path to the lie
be nice they or benevolent even,
they surely don't know what they're doing
I hope

the narrator knows
everyone knows
everyone knows you're white outside and black inside,
oh no, silly Silk, they don't

//
a writer has to be an empath

has to live
much more than exist
has to create
much more than consume
has to connect
much more than denote
has to build
much more than destroy
has to tell
much more than to say
has to feel
much more than to think
has to explore
much more than pass through
has to know
much more than to ask
has to suffer
much more than adapt
and has to transcend
much more than to die

///
the author
is the godfather
guiding the puppets
by an invisible hand
the puppets don't know
the puppets can't see
the strings
and soon
they will think
they're acting
on their own

/
so how then do we
see the things
for what they are
in all their glory
all their misery
all their core
and utter reality?

il y a
des hors-texte
il y a
presque rien
justement
dans le texte

so now
how do we know
how do we show
what we know
what we've learnt
what was given
towards our senses
t'wards our mind
our brain
(our soul)
how do we
outside of it all
derive an image
derive a form
and translate but
from thoughts into language
from mind into words
from whim into form
from eidôla
to what can be grasped
to what can be held
to what can be
felt

ton nomon ex chaôi
ta horizomena tôi ex peri
to holon ex merôi
to ex archês
to tên toi archên
tês aphaneias kai tou phôtou mechri
ex logois, ex ergois
to ergon
ton logon?

//
the word
the act
the thing
in the beginning
at the head of things
them all
Resh, the head, alludes to Re, the sun-god ancient,
sees the things
with the eye of Horus
annuit coeptis Horus
novi saeclorum ordinis

to build the pyramid
supposed to fulfill the promise
the dream
the words that were written
in the beginning
that started the storm
to turn things around
to revolve
around an axis all new
all inspired
all admired
all so inciting but
life quite as death

///
society
's a fragile thing
and civilization
is just a layer
a cover
a sheet
supposed to pretend
that we've quite evolved
that six thousand years
of culture quite modern
can turn back the clock
can counter the essence
that still lurks beneath
beneath us
from beneath
within our being
things concealed
and things denied
can be controlled they
be made myth
and be made past
to not return?

a wish this, not more,
a child's plea, not more,
but grow up we will
and carry within
what can't be controlled
what can't be denied
what has to be dealt with
time and again

though, 've seen you kids play?
've seen you the cruelty
lurking beneath?
perhaps we don't even need to grow
to discover
that we are just animals
how much we deny it
infesting a planet,
a cancer, a virus, a growing disease,
a pathway, a road
that cuts through the woods
that cuts through the desert
that cuts through the sea
that cuts through the meadows
that cuts through the mountains
that cuts through the ice
that cuts into space
leaving no space
no retreat
not a refuge
no more

// //
still, see you the good news?
nature
will adapt
it's mankind that's preying upon herself
who'll lose her refuge
and only retreat

as mimick we nature not
but merely ideas
that grown out of culture -

a mimesis
that's not poiêsis
a making
that's not creating
a word
that's just spoken
yet not understood

// / //
but
still
how do we
emancipate
the soul from the body
the now from the then
the life from death
how do we do it
without losing touch
with what we still are
and always will be
the beginning
explained
brings chaos or order it?
negotiating the parts within the whole
manifesting the words in deeds, or around?

how do we
move on
and not destroy
conserve
and not suppress
remember
what's long been forgotten
forget
what's binding us still?

shall follow we texts
too old for this world
or need we invent
in contexts remembered
the stories of now
the stories
for the morrow?
a pastiche
knowing the past
for the use of the present
and the sake of the future

that is to be read
progressing
through all transitions
considering
the laudations of the past
describing
the confictions of the present
the mutations
and veritations
in rogations
and disputations
in confessions
and explorations
circumscribing
the fluctuations
and obfuscations
in all the locutions
in deep meditations
of all our dimissions
filled with the pranah
and atman
of the world that's here, that's to come

that is to be seen
in its elements
on a voyage eternal
to places,
through moments,
in faces,
touching the façades
of passions
beneath the artifices
through alterations
to coming reflections

/// ///
and though we have to leave the world
in the end
we enter it
in the beginning
in our beginning
so why not here stay
and see it all
and hear it all
and know it all?

why not then
on our very own strange odyssey
ask a muse
to help us see
what's in the world?

/
andra mou eneipe, Mousa -
Odysseus, Hornblower, Kirk, Pike, Picard, Sisko and Janeway
walking the oceans, walking the skies,
Mal of Serenity, Archer and Crichton,
newest Leviathans,
show me new Hobbesses,
no, never Hobbits,
show me the freedom, newest frontiers,
never the final ones,
beyond the darkness and the light
beyond the dreams
that can't be confronted
that can't but be dreamed -
Brüder, hinterm Sternenzelt,
muß ein milder Vater wohnen!
newest, all genesis,
newest, all poiêsis -
it always has to be fought with blood
of others
or quite of our own
'cause this is the stuff
that can't be explained
away
there's more to it than fiction, stories
it's not just discourse
not just text

//
I cannot see it's dark
out of the night
a light returns
an enterprise bright
and majesty all
(write the letters furiously
and write them like you would be making love to them!)
like this
with their brothers and sisters
can't hear them you still?
steering the boat
)down into the maelstrom(
steering the course
)downwards, descending(
seen from another side, afraid, what's just happened?
)the sounds of the spacedogs(
cry havoc, and unleash the dogs of war!
)unleashed they are already(
beware now
shall help us they
here to root our selves
root our lives
is this a spaceship
or does it need wind
like a sail boat, Mr. Glass?

///

the writer has told me to push me downwards into the paper forcefully and I obey so that it may appear as written in unity or something else? may I please? may I speak? these falling lines can it be what he wanted looks Arabic almost, let it be, are they not strange? maybe script is supposed to be this way in any case Arabic writing had to be conceived developed in some way any way! it's just hand-written lines of what otherwise would look rather bulky rather enforced don't you see it? see you not the Ka resembling the Kaph the K the hand the symbol in behind or the Lam the Lamedh the L or or the Shin the Tooth or the Mim even or the Ayin (that's the Eye) or the Ra alluding to Resh to the Sun-God ancient it's all about the sun, you know, the son is about the sun, Uhura was quite right, even Christ is just a stand-in for the sun-god for nature we perceive as being omnipotent over us transcending us dictating us enslaving us for if you just think of it, who the hell are we to be questioning nature's grasp of us? who the hell are we, who the hell do we think we are, ain't this schizophrenic? no, and yes, again, I' ve taken in alcohol, for drunk is a state that still serves illusions of inspiration --- Greek wine, of course, what sense would it make drinking something else than what is the stereo-typical stuff, why should I drink wine from places barbaric? It has to be Greek it has to be Latin it has to be these things these references to the past the mind-wise present and always, there's Glass dancing while I'm writing this utter insanity utter inanity utterest drug that makes me dive into states indescribable by daylight so down into the night the regions elevated by eternal darkness just of the spirit but never of the soul! let me take another sip another glass just (ha!) down it goes I know it's wrong I do it any way for what exactly am I supposed to be losing I've lost her already what else would there she's raped my soul and raped my mind and I am the victim, it drives me insane, I can't even curse her, I love her too much, and say me just, why? I tell you why: love makes fools of the brightest of men, and I am just another case in point but this is the end and over it is the purpose is served and knowledge is gained and start now a new life a life on your own a vita nuova and she has become quite abstract an entity far far away (oh, how do I pity her, she's broken my heart, but see, I 't least have one! and I'm not too proud t' be letting me feel and let me be me) I'm not a player I don't like to play a game in such cases I do not much side for panem circensesque (except civilization, of course) for things of the heart just aren't to be played with aren't to be seen as being a game to be played it's not about conquests not about pride not about anything that would remove us from what we here feel and what we need tell

// //
and stories all lived
and stories invented
and stories arrived at by experience
not lying
how do they differ
if differ at all they
from what's in a name
that's been given birth to
by nature
and how dies it matter
if stories invented
can oft-times ring true?

// / //
andra mou eneipe, mousa
andra, mê gynaika?
gynaik' mou eneipe, mousa!
gynaika, phonea daimoniôn !

don't give me songs, sweet muse,
songs which would mask
the truth
lying beneath
is the truth lying?
have you heard?
haven't you heard?
the truths once written
they've been disproven! have been made lies!
so how do we know for sure
how could we look even
if but, for all we could know
the truth of to-day
can be very well
the lie of the morrow!

so shall we just cede
accept the daimonion
of gut-wrenching feelings
and hope-heavy pleas
for how could we know
how could we be sure

habemus non corpora
sed dubitamus
dubioque vivimus
dubio
pro reo
dubio
pro deo?
at qui est reus
deus
sive mundus?
quod est
quod videmus
quod est
quod audimus
quod est
quod scire possumus?
quod scire agimus
quod scire facimus
facsimilum nostrum
deus
facsimilum nostrum
mores
facsimilum mundi
nos
facsimilum
(est aliquod factum cum simile sit)
deus sit
sit speculum fidei nostri
sit speculum spei nostri
sit speculum amoris nostri

mysterium fidei
mortem tuam annuntiamus, Domine,
et tuam resurrectionem confitemur,
donec venias
ut sit resurrectio nostrum
ut mors nostrum non sit cassa
dies illa
quando caeli latendi sunt et terra
quando non fiat lux
sed nox
quando vita non est vita sed mors
ut finis non sit finis sed prinpicium
in principioque sit verbum
et verbum sit apud deum
sed verbum sit deus
deum speramus
non fidemus
(otherwise we won't need no churches nor priests
nor some books so dusty and holy
in the beginning)
amatorem nostrum
protectorem nostrum
patronem nostrum
et signifier Sanctus Michael
salvatorem nostri
at libera nos
de ore leonis
de poenis inferni
et de profundo lacu
quando caeli movendi sunt et terra
dies illa
dies irae
de flammis aeternis
de omnibus malis
de omnium summis malorum
pro eo
pro reo
(qui reus est?)
in paradisum
speramus
in vitam
aeternam

weil nicht sein kann was nicht sein darf
(what mustn't be true
just shouldn't be true)
because, in any case,
we'd all prefer
a lie, once convenient
if what it could do
would make us feel better
make us more suited
quite not to what's true
but just to what's wanted

so rather invent we
a world that's just bigger
a life that's just longer
an end that's not really an end,
and choices done wrong, undoable once
and choices done right, paying off in the end
and feelings here felt
coming true in the end
and good versus evil
a simple equation
being solved
by an umpir' omniscient

how noble a lie this (if lying were noble)
but say, is it really?
ain't it but help
to wait for the end,
not doing what's needed,
just doing what's simple,
and things going wrongly
sat out here patiently,
for God is a joker,
a scapegoat,
placebo
(means, something we'd like to be true)
placebis
ut conatus esses
ut egisses
amavisses
scire ac tum voluisses
audivisses
et vidisses
vixisses atque
vitam ipsam

/
just don't conform
just don't accept
what's laid upon you
and is not
your own

but why not conform
to things you've just realized
to be working for good?

//
there's Ronald Reagan
being buried right now
a service
in National Cathedral
the place where Bartlet lit his tobacco
in order to hear
Mrs. Landingham again
they're moving the coffin
and have there been speeches
and have there been songs
and have there been tears
in my eyes
so suddenly
unexpectedly
so why can I feel
what I ain't allowed my self
to feel
for such a long time?

sitting here
at Nashville International
waiting for the flight back home
and all in the restaurant
caught by the acts
performed on the television
a strange congregation
of travelers caught
by the news of the day

is it the preaching?
is it the eulogies?
is it the songs?
is it the words?
is it the concepts?
is it the epitaphs?

how quite so soothing
t' be hearing about
a life after death
an all-caring god
a place we'll return to
right after this...

///
but the truth
the truth
out there?
I want to believe -
but do I really?
want we really?
need we really?
what's the truth?
veritas?
quid est veritas
dicitur
by Pontius Pilate
well, ain't he had an outlook quite different
to be asking that question from,
don't you think?
(ave, popule,
tyrannus mortalis est!)

how many people having died for the cause of subsistence and hope -

how many people having died, however,
just for the words of consubstantialis patri?
for the words of Allahu akbar?
for the words of Empire, God, Volk, race and class?

for see, it's not thrones, princes, dominions
that threaten the peace and cause countless death
it's crazed aspirations, and hubris of dominance
hubris of showing, there's one truth, it's ours
for this isn't truth
no, this is just discourse
dividing our selves
into "them", into "us",
for truth, in itself,
won't ever deny
existence of others
existence of dissent -

truth speaks for herself
she needs no warriors sacrificing lives
truth, now, is love

"if spake I in tongues
angelic and human
but had I not love,
a gong resounding, a cymbal clashing I would be,
just a bang, not enduring, and fading away,
nothing I'd be

"had gifts I of prophecy, saw I all mysteries, knew I it all,
had all the faith to move all the mountains,
had but not love,
nothing I'd be

"gave I away
all that I had
gave I away
my body and soul,
but had I not love,
gained I had nothing,
nothing I'd be

"love but is patient
love but is kind
love is not jealous
love is not pompous
love's not inflated
love is not rude
seeks no self-interests
love's not quick-tempered
broods not on injury
it does not rejoice in things that done wrong
rejoices in truth but
bearing all things
believing all things that coming from love
hoping all things
enduring all things
love never fails"

and love but
is life

we need no lamb to sacrifice
asking for a sacrifice
can never be
an act of love

so come on now
once more into the breach
my friends
once more
but with feeling this time
breaching reality
breaking up
with death
finally

/
this ain't no poem here
not any longer
this has become
quite different a thing
and maybe it better be called a lament
or a treatise or such
or just utter insanity
(I hope, not inanity!)
but never in vanity...

but please now keep true to the promise at hand
pastiche it to be
invoking the past
and "ich" meaning I if spoken in German
and I am quite German
if seen through American eyes
even if writing
the American tongue
but please now stay focused
and tell me, right now,
why, and when,
did it become so difficult
to just here go on?

for I'm just going on
waiting
finally
to die

I needed a bottle of Sherry
t' be writing these lines
I kid you not
and Glass is dancing twicely in the Einsteinian mood
and time becomes space
a space to be covered
a space t' overcome
a space to be seen
from a distance
right now

see, there are
so many people,
so many lives,
so many different forms of pain
and still, my own
is crying out

there's nothing nice in solitude
there's nothing nice
in having found your love
and having seen her
fade away
incognizant
of what could have been
oh, so ignorant,
willfully,
of what would have been,
and destroying so,
of what is right now
of who is right now
in a state of remembrance
of love so immense
and still unrequited
(ain't this here stinking of utter'st banality!)
and love is the banalst of all our banality
yet still,
you see,
life, in itself,
is banal, almost too boringly
people needing love
people thinking love to be found
people losing that love
time and again

remember you stories told?
about people breaking under torture?
once they've been broken
they're broken for ever
I have been broken
longing heart
feels so lost
I am a prisoner
caught in a loop
caught in a bubble
want you help free me
won't you please come?

so hello back, you little place,
welcome back inside my mind
its forests reaching out for me
out of the dark
de oscuridad
screeching for more
here masturbates my soul
with itself
and I'm its tool
welcome back to the infinite loop

I'm drunk now,
can't you just tell?

//
Bacchus has given me something
a greater sense of things all around me
a greater feeling
of all their disguises
and all their inventing
and all endless chatter
discourent ils mais bien,
ils discourent
sur moi !
the tock of the clock
the tick of the flick
the click of the mick
the nig of the nag of the who is the what is the were is the
sleep
- you're quite insane,
- well, thank you, dear, at least someone recognizes my true potential!
Bacchus, you're nothing but a cheater
plain and stupid like all of the gods
seducing us with your power assumed
and leaving us empty
once it is gone
poisoning us
with promises void
and substance so vain

I'm drunk now,
can't you just tell?

yes, of course
I'm repeating things
revealing things
although, all I need,
is either to speak to her, yet again,
recover what's lost, and start then anew (if she would allow it!)
on different a plane
(and yet, somehow, I just can't seem to care
any more)
or simply, right now,
making the Sherry
throw me back
into obscurity
and into forgetting
just for this night
the truth of my heart
that's haunting me still
it's making me sleep
and feeds me a lie
I'm well now content with

youth is angry
age wise and responsible,
but somehow, just tired
I'm feeling the latter though still I am young
not quite dead, but not alive
nici mort, nici al fiintei
quod perditum est, invenietur

///
ti estin alêtheia?
'tis what's by Lethe not obscured
what's not hidden,
what is free
freed from obstacles so darkening, obscuring
obfuscating not
but clarifying
making clear
and making near
choosing closeness over distance
closing not
the path ahead
op'ning up
the ways of knowledge
ways of doubt
and ways of making near
it's not the conviction held deep within
it's not the defeatism of fellowship
fiat voluntas tua?
whose will shall we follow?
and know we the will?
and will we know?
how should we follow

a god who is silent
a god who doesn't speak directly
is a traitor to its cause
an idea gone awry
your will be done?
you voice be heard!

vox domini ad civitatem clamat
- et sapientia est timere nomen tuum -:
"Popule meus, quid feci tibi
et quid molestus fui tibi?
Responde mihi."
what have you done to us?
silent you've stayed
trusting others to speak in your name
claiming deeds that done by us for yourself
claiming humanity being caught up in destiny
the arrogance of deity
the blasphemy of piety
the crime of demanding a following -
how could we follow
words that stay empty
how could we follow
signs without passions
how have you insulted us?
by keeping in cages us
blocking the mind
and damning the soul
why not therefore
no
how could we not
declare our independence right here?
from gods false and shallow
unholy authority
and judgement improper
for god is not
a jury of our peers
nor is it a judge
elected, agreed upon
and if it's but powerful
show it the cross,
and with kindest regards,
tyrants of the world,
or heaven,
why here should we cede to you
your power's a claim
based upon theft
and raping our minds
our hearts
and our souls
tyrants deserve not a life
built upon
the deaths of their victims
ave, popule,
tyrannus mortalis est!

oh, baby Jesus, in the bathwater,
they've thrown him away
and kept the water for show!

and the scapegoat is killed
and the world hasn't changed

// //
it's not just here
that I appear
fulfilling a scheme
of things going badly
and "God" being blamed
and denied even
so that's where you're wrong
you cannot deny
what doesn't exist
it's empty constructions
allowing for blaming
it's basing your world
on godheads imagined
and setting your morals
dependent on them
that makes them now crush
exploding the game
of signified nonsense
yes, nonsense it is
compliant to wishes
so fear-filled of life
you need a godhead
in your life?
you need the biggest of things
being the faith in a god
of whom no sign is apparent
except of those made up by blunt ignorance?
there was no god
in the beginning
there was no creation
designing intelligently
so why do you base
your view of the world
on things we've discovered as false?

ain't it quite dangerous
to base a belief
in things that so easily can be shown wrong?
ain't that just help
discredit the morals
you were to erect?
ain't that, as well,
denigrate life, denigrate people,
and giving just cause
to making them subjects?

// / //
have never you wondered
why the Romans
introduced their version of Christianity
as the religion of the state?
have ever you wondered?
"give God what God's is
but give Ceasar what is Caesar's"?
how goes this together
with everything else?
have never you wondered?

is this what we need?
new rules, subjugations?

whose sake shall we live for?

/// ///
life is just life
for the sake of life
a mantra its own
a spell-binding story
and myth in itself
it needs not a destiny
needs not excuses
for doing what's right
kneel not to honor a god that's not there
kneel but in awe of the myst'ry of life
pray not to ask for a gift from above
pray just to say to your self your own fate
declaring your own
independence right here

in perpetual a revolution
for the democracy
of our souls
devoid the tyranny of deity
and lies thus related
that obscure just the path
t'wards life itself

life but is love
love is forgiveness
ever again
and all you ever need
is love, indeed

/
and Jesus had to be the Christ:
in order for us
to be going on
instead of just waiting
for providence to come
the time is now
and not
somewhen
over the rainbow

//
there is no soul
without the body
soul is mind
the form its function
nor does live it
after death
from dust made life
all over again
becoming flesh
in different form
in different shape
with different souls and bodies joint
and all
's just life
the slate
's not blank
and never was
nor will it be
be willed into being it
by those that want change us
those that want violate
those that deny us
deny what we are
in light of their wishes
their dreams and their nightmares
we are not telos
of wishes external
and bound not by fate we
for it's the soul
that needs emancipation
from all that is carried to burden it with

but progress is not
denial of nature
it is not lies
or mass reconstruction
it's about truth
and seeing what's fact
and seeing what's fiction
it's live and let live
what choice do we have?
what other end
could there quite be?

///
hear you the babblers
babbling back the bubbles of the babble-makers
pink a bubble
pinkest a babble
smiling, of course,
shiny, happy people,
all of them
(hail Jasmine, of course!) , or any claimed guru
see you them flock
to shapers-negators of thought universal
dearest ideology, just never leave us!
(ave, popule,
imperator nudus est!)

and where there's words just, there's no truth
and where's no truth, remains no hope
denied all knowledge but they have
and all is kept
are broken minds
and thoughts that constitute mere masturbation
than an honest quest
for truth

think for yourself
accept not the groupspeak
the newspeak
the lingo
the gibberish pseudo-thought
for there's no academy
if not it's a congress of thoughts independent and free

// //
and words
bringing about
the end of the world

the end
as truest revelation
something that's shown
an apocalypse
that's not an end
but true a beginning
that's just an end as it is purpose
it is means
and it's a way

created by words
turning around the measure of things
the ways of the world
the soul
inside

but true an ending?
true an end, an end to life?
our life just ending,
not to return,
and not to become transcendent existence?

could we bear that,
though it be true
(it is, sadly, gladly, it is,
and how not)

would not we miss it
would not we wish it
to just carry on
to see how it ends?

have learnt you nothing?
can't you see?
in the end,
mankind
prefers to be lied to
for the truth to make sense

we cannot tolerate an ending
we need the afterlife
as meme

// / //
a lie so endearing
a lying so noble
could not that be
a truth in itself?

can't add a resurrection we,
allowing for 3 days of reality first,
would that not work?

I tell you, somehow,
I always felt cheated:
Jesus dying for our sins, allegedly,
and not to die, in the end,
that somehow
makes it seem shallow
makes it seem empty
makes it seem false
would not make that a hero of Iscariot?

there's something wrong with the picture at hand
something's been fixed
to make it complacent
to not what we need
but to what we want

so in the end
the truest end
the truest purpose
can only be truth
and if we can't reach it (for see we just partially)
we should not surrender
to hopes false and empty (for they will betray us)
so that, in the end,
it means to go on
as if we'd go on
because we won't
but others here have to
to let them continue
we need to reveal what's true and what's not
the search must go on

for in the end,
in search of the truth
the aim
is the search
itself

/
drippy-drop the rain's a-goin'
drippy-drop outside my room
dropping weights upon my shoulders
washing others away
(heavier ones)
shall I weigh it
deem it
know it
shall I just
go on
and see?

turn
the cold
around
seek out
know
face
slay
ur
past-ish(e) demons

demons all
that now here drive us
now here bury us inside
now allow want our being
or deny it
outrightly
dwellers on our doorsteps
dwellers quite
inside our mind
in siding we
for each of them
we're seeing them
becoming them
something demonical
something daimonical
something quite god-like
and godheads transcending

gods in ruins
gods in the making
gods in the shaping -
made we have gods
shaped we have gods
killed them as well
and quite resurrected if ever we pleased -

so like then to build we
just something that's bigger
just something that's better
or simply, just mightier,
and quite with the sense
that whenever it pleases
us here, and not them,
to kill them off, quite so we will

we create our heroes
in order to diminish them

all words, deeds in hindsight
deeds so getting lost in words
deeds just take a moment to be done
words, however,
can shape a lifetime
of betrayal

see you not, they're denying life
denying the facts
the nature
of things
they say they want liberate
(how can you liberate by binding your self to a lie?)
say they want end all fate
(as if facts and fate were the same)
say they know how to shape the world
(as if they had facts to prove it'll be better)
yet don't get me wrong here
for see you must clearly:

I'm not denying here
a change for the better
and painful a need to make this come t' pass
yet means, detached from the truth,
denying the truth, while claim of benevolence,
is what has brought here
in the very first place:
see, evil is not a devil with horns
things that are evil
believe they are right
believe their path to be working for good
they've fooled their selves
betrayed their selves
and strayed from the path
when strayed they from truth
just a fraction
of an inch

"what's the truth"
that's Pilate's question
see but how he poses it
does he seek her, seek the truth?
seeks he not a way to lack her,
make her relative a thing,
make her something that, as it's hard to be found at all,
just cannot be found,
just doesn't exist?
an argument ex ignorance
(the argument a fool would make, a lazy one, corrupted one)
he wants to excuse himself
excuse himself from responsibility
that's where he goes wrong
and masking it
by asking
ti estin alêtheia
quid est veritas
what's truth
shows just a man
who poses to be cunning and clever
while such a question
(coming from him)
is merely distraction
and merely an insult
added to injury
he seeks not to know
seeks just to justify
(to make just)
what cannot be justified
what can't be made right
by bending the truth

and those
asking, "what's truth",
claiming, it wouldn't exist
and would just be relative,
they've nothing to say
their question is banal
the answer as well

//
pretty much known
pretty much written
pretty much felt
pretty much discarded so?
regarded not and not in vain still?
an experiment of experience
an investigation still unseen
incarnation
of the body
unto the soul
of the soul
quite out of the body?
words
the word
the logos
spoken
in the beginning
but not a word, no, never a word here -
just a hint of things to come
to have been
in the beginning
genes are words too
quanta as well
probably strings
pulling themselves
what a joke!
the strings pulling themselves quite out of the primordial!
and never the face of an hominid god there to be…

///
I am the heretic
I am the apostate
I am the bad guy
posing them questions
they don't want to hear
giving them answers
they are too afraid of
giving them voice
to things yet unvoiced
you want me be silent
to be correct
politically, that is?
oh, bullocks,
shut the fuck up
life's a story to be told
and not to be hidden
I am a scientist
I am an artist
both things dictate
that I here speak out
make myself
be seen
be heard
be known
sci
audi
vide
here we go again

// //
can you see it?
can you read it?
oh, don't you agree,
so few, indeed, can read, indeed,
for all they just see
is letters and words
they'll nod, they'll speak
just say but they'll nothing
relive not their heart will
what utters their mind
as mind their own business they
and surely not see they
what needs to be see
'cause surely not feel they
what needs to be felt

and pathos coming from feelings still true
will only be seen as pathetic and odd
but if hear you the Pathétique,
Tchaikovsky it is I'm speaking of here,
how could you deny
the feelings dearly so felt?

how do you communicate
with someone
who's lost the essence
of what it means
to be sharing a burden?

truth's always a burden
for people only want to know
as far as their "opinions" can be confirmed
opinions are the new opiate
religions the old

hear them, these chatterboxes,
discussing matters of weight
while weighing themselves not an ounce of a brain
nor a tad of a soul
these dimwits and numbnuts

attention span,
is there a nastier thing?

you cannot just skim a topic
you cannot just dip in, less than skin deep,
you cannot just pose t' be seeing things critically
while, at the same time,
denying all truth

to someone I said,
look at the history
whose history, I got the reply,
oh dear, there's only one,
the truth cannot be severed
you're mixing up
opinion with fact
mistaking the labels of the fakers
with what's the real thing

// / //
meanwhile
I recognized
this here must end
must end quite inside me
the words
must flow into deeds
so going back
's the direction at hand

/// ///
my mind, this analyzing bitch
that keeps awake me in my sleeping hour
lulls to sleep me in the day
my blood, my verse,
a uni-verse itself,
are words my own
and yet, of others
equally
and own a discourse
gets disowned
and gets dismembered
dis-remembered,
analyzed,
is its birth
and wake
just both
and its own, true sleep-enticer
sleep-inciter
sleeping pill and sleepless bill

/// / ///
all's for the morrow
none's for the day
all is just planning
and playing a head
a game
in the head
of human intelligence
humane humility's own greatest foe
bitten by man
or woman, respectively,
respecting the game
respecting the toll
and don't
give a damn
your dam just might break
if should you allow
a sight of compassion
or taste understanding
a standing so strange
will surely be frown
be surely avown
and some day, not known?

and I shall refuse the game
as refused me it has
even if
resist assimilation I
be left outside
looking in
it's worth not the fight
if lose you your mind
if lose you your life
if lose you your soul
even if be it a meme just like anything else

// // // //
les mots
sont les choses
vues par nos yeux
entendues par nos oreilles
sues par nos âmes

alors
quand j'embrasse
la nuit désolée
je reste, pensant, ne restant,
s'inquiétant ;
ou est-il mieux, se restant ?
le poète
ne reste pas
jamais
pour il faut
pour l'artiste
à distiller la vérité
embrassant
la mélancolie, la déesse noire
deesse aut esse
se mourir ou se tuer
ou est-ce le fin
la continuation ?
la vie
pour la vie
l'art
pour l'art
la mort
simplement
le prix ?
sauvant-nous
de l'ennui
d'immortalité ?

il n'y ont pas des faits ?
mais j'ai le fait
les faits ont moi

and art
is proof of life
and life
is not a dream

//// / ////
so cursed you be, Kalliope, Euterpe, Erato
and all you other worthless impostors
for stealing my sleep
time and again
and blessed you be,
for interrupting the sleep
and letting me write
in stead

for this is the interlude
for all that's to come

/
and that's how it goes
and that's how it is
and all shall evoke now
the ghosts from the past
and cast then them out
and cast then quite out
what made us here seek 'em
in the first place
and truest beginning

for every story's got a beginning
and every story's got an end
a made beginning
and made an end
stories constructed
story is
the name of our game
it ain't reality
so seldom it is
is it still verity?
hope just we can
hope but we must
hope but 's what started the story
in the beginning

a beginning in wanting
a beginning in needing
a beginning in seeking
what's missing
what needs to be felt
what needs to be dealt
by life or by fate
(fatum's what's said)
yes, fate is what's spoken
fate is the thought
that's made to transgress
the state of flux
that's made to transgress
into solid a state
into words that will stay
and must not be altered
must not be changed
horizons not conquered
accepted just stay
as limits and borders
(need transgress the boundaries we,
toward a transformative hermeneutics of quantum gravity?)
transgress we should the fashionable nonsense
of denying the facts and distorting the truth
you cannot transgress that which binds you
by making up stuff denying all truth,
denying all fact,
denying all life,
denying
our beginning

the beginning
the very beginning
let's go back to the beginning

//
in the beginning
there was a garden
with a tree growing the fruit of cognition
the fruit of discovery
of seeking the truth
and seeing beyond
what life had made
for the living
in the beginning
there was a choice
of knowing but gnawing reflection
(see you the gn-? in both words? how appropriate...)
or peaceful and blissfullest ignorance
that was the choice offered to Adam and Eve
and human they were
and what shall I say:
give me liberty, or give me death!
(some will but choose
the deadly calm
of silent dependence
if makes it them happy)

and so it began
a trade-off so surely:
conserve what we have
while having a hunch that things could be better
progress at all costs
while yearning for constancy, safety and peace
but this is the thing:
no god did expel us from paradise then
we did it ourselves
for after having eaten the forbidden fruit
there was no going back
we went
and went gladly
out of the prison of paradise
into the promise of the desert, horizons all vast

///
ti exêlthamen eis tên erêmon -
what went we out into the wilderness
to see?
to see!
to see what was there
to see how it ends!
the world
how the world finds an end
an end of history
end of our struggle
for war and for peace
(sometimes, I fear, we need war to make peace)
(sometimes, I fear, we need peace to make war)
so see
we had to leave the woods
into the meadows
the prairies
the desert
the ocean
the mountains
the deep
the hot
the cold
the near
the far
the planets
the stars!
to boldly keep going
where we haven't been
before
to boldly keep staying
where we have but lived
before

we need to do both
conserve and progress
in present, future, past united
all becoming one
a transparent eye-ball
an active perception,
perceptive an action!
and all
making sense

// //
see, there's no chaos
that's truly chaotic
even in chaos
order appears
needs not be made
not be created
from stardust born stars
and planets alike
and heavenly bodies
will join to make life
the ice comet cometh
and works as a carrier
and life that has lived
returns to the dust
and dust to dust
is not 'bout the end
it's bout the beginning
a new beginning
after the end
(for every end is a beginning
and each beginning needs an end)
once we have died
reborn we will be
the same and though different
so different but same
infinite form
from infinite forming
infinite diversity
in combinations infinite
and the story is this
and beginnings and endings
all flow together
all becoming anew
each time and again
see you your body?
the cells all regenerate
as long as we live
we seem quite the same
but truly, we aren't
constancy's in flux
flux is in constancy -
a reincarnation quite biological
a theogony quite radical -
and the drop begets an ocean
and the ocean begets a drop
there is no standstill
nothing that stays
nothing's made and simply exists
it's being made, continues to be being

"to be" is not a static verb
being's not stand-still
and stand-still's not life

(I got things to do
and there's gonna be a change of tone
I need to be back
writing, with a vengeance)

I need to move on
I need to move forward
'cause with every work
the artist aims
to surpass himself
but not always this is achieved
and new realms entered
and new, old (odd?) stuff
is sought to keep it afresh
and structures formed
the sense shall carry
material matters
so does form
and all things considered
and all things contained
within

but what, just what
if I won't be able
to contain it
no longer?

/
I need to end it
fend it
bend it
bend it back
to where it came from
bend the truth
back into obscurity
back into forgetfulness
(shoving alêtheia back into Lethe so quite!)
need to find my center here
need to end the curse, my dear
need to see the end, all clear
need to see it all, no fear
oh, who am I kidding

//

I'm not getting better I'm sure getting worse and all I here hoped for all I here ventured for all I here deemed to learn and take in it's all unrequited (all science, like love, is done for your self!) and all in the madhouse all in the doghouse all in the universe uni-directional uni-dimensional uni-dementional uni-demonsional unaided all united in pain united in fear (fear is the path to the dark side, thank you, my dearest, we've known it already) fear is the path to the Black Lodge (I've been watching Twin Peaks quite recently) there's someone staring in my face someone I should know in the mirror someone who's long-haired now longing so back longing so forget it now forget her now forgotten forgotten forgotten never she'll be just transcended by words now so coming I'm coming I'm cunning to con my self to lead myself into a conviction in which I won't need her any longer I mean isn't insane? inane even! but surely insane! she's out of the loop out of the picture and still she's there reigning me from far far away she's gone and yet, she's exerting her power --- speak of patriarchy you? you stupid fool have never you experienced the thrall of a woman? the might she exerts? all men are pawns in the hands of a woman, all men are reduced to stupid fools once a woman walks by if looks she into his eye --- powerful men? who are you kidding, have seen you his desires not? all that men do, they do for a woman, if even in hypothesis, see, I'm choosing my seats on the train depending on a woman sitting nearby, I'm choosing my looks dependent just of what she may think --- how pathetic is that? power? who's got the power? all she needs do is speak up, enthrall me, I'm hers, and for ever, why do you think that men have secluded themselves in positions of power? to keep women out? yes, surely, but WHY? just out of evil? out of their cunning? no, poorest ignorant, just out of fear! would think you just here, men would be thinking just clearly, once sight of a woman was near? for this is the secret (no secret it is): show me a man immune to a woman (and those that seem t' be, you'll bet that they're married and governed already) --- you will not succeed, it won't just be feasible, a patriarchy, say you, we're running? my dearest, you're just here directing your glance to the obvious, ignoring the obvious glances of men, you think they are governed by clearest desire? think now again, desire it is, but governed by hope --- for see now, here, we men don't quite grasp a woman's own interest into our sex, so see you it not? why seest thou not? you only see the structures all open, you're seeing not the myst'ry behind: what images see you on tit 'zines all over? those quite of men? well, surely you don't (at least not majority-wise), for sure it is women, so, think you, they're objects, just objects of men, objects of desire? oh, haven't you learnt, the object of desire holds more power than anything else on those that want to possess! men just are slaves, and women their masters, anything else is just a diversion. believe you, however, may anything else, but think as you will, it's one way, no other, for see you not clearly? the private is quite more political here, you see just the public, you'll find just disguises, the truth is at hand: why do you think men would create a sphere independent from home? invent just a myth of women inferior? would that be needed if men were in power? all's just illusion, all's just a game, the truth is quite simple: men are the game, and women the gods, and goddesses even. 't 'all is a show, a man-made quite fantasy even, a dream world, a wish, but pointless at best: das Ewig Weibliche zieht uns hinan, gynaikokratoumenoi hêmeîs.

///
love can be a poison
I fear
love's a curse
I fear that much more even
something that blinds you
something that changes you
something that makes you
what weren't you before
a making out of the un-making
a truest destruction
and truest invention
such true deconstruction (the only one, really)
so that I must ask
is it a curse
for the worse
or the better?
or is it a curse at all (no, you stupid fool, it's not)
for what can be curse
if lasts it still?
and carries just truth?
for there's just one truth:
I've loved you then
I love you still
I'll always be loving you

if this is a curse,
accept I might gladly
what makes it of me:
the sadness contained but
in not being able
to come true with my promise of love
with the translation
of matters of the heart
into life
is this the curse?
could the curse be a gift?

it must not poison my future at hand
it must not poison my very own soul

the regrets that abound
I cannot deny
I cannot quite talk it over
with the addressee
can I deny myself?
can I deny
the truth of my feelings?

that would mean
denying my self -

so there's but one choice
accepting it
embracing it
transcending it
and moving on
but not losing it
in the end

// //

If I were to say what is love, what shall I say? is words enough, is speaking enough, does speaking contain the truth of the matter, the matter of the heart? shall I try a treatise here? an anti-treatise, as love can't be treated? an anti-statement, as love can't be stated, just lived, and made true? I could quite well be forgetting love as love seems to have forgotten my self, but the core of the matter, the crux, nub, the thing, is the very location, the very sensation that's centered not elsewhere but right in my heart --- love may be centered 'round a person or thing, but quite in the end, and in its beginning, it's rather about the person who loves --- to truly love, you have to be in love with love itself, you have to live it, be it, breathe it, and love, my dear, true love, as love always has to be true, cannot select, and cannot make choices, cannot decide out of the people, out of the beings, out of the things, which one to love, and which to discard, disregard, ignore or detest: love is a thing transcending all things, love is a passion transcending all passion, love is a dance danced quite with all: once truly you love, it's all that you love, once truly you care, it's all that you care quite about: love's not selective, love's not exclusive, love is not a trial run. I'm a being caught and broken, caught by love and all its power, broken by what it made of me: I've surrendered my will, surrendered to love, surrendered to what change I just can't, what change I don't want even --- and what I want, I don't want; and what I need, I don't need. a want without wanting, a have without having, a possession without being possessed --- this is no treatise, these are just fragments, as I'm quite a fragment of what I'm to be, of what I become...

(silently, hushingly, quietly)
evoco
quid evoco? quem? pro cuius salute?
pro salute mei? tui? mundi?
quid scio de mundi salute ...
dei?
qui deus est --- sive quid ---
quid, potest, quid, est quod credere possum
evoco
deum?
credo in unum deum?
est quid volo? est quid volunt?
est qui sumus --- dubitantes, ne scientes,
credentes, sperantes, amantes
sic parlante, est qui sum
deus est mundus
deus est vita
et vita activa
et contemplativa
sed vitam aeternam non habemus
est, non possumus scire
est, debemus conari scire
est, debemus conari vivere
etiamsi (quia!) mortales sumus
daimones mei
nunc evoco

sive

my freedom at stake, and still I'm awake,
brought down by the past and future uncertain,
and still do I need,
but need not desire I,
need not obsess
what can't be possessed,
still need intimacy
need what was lost
feeling my anger, all t'ward my self
in grief still bound,
into despair quite faded again,
regained I have the prison of my soul