Phil John Kneis:
SYLLOGY XXIX:
विद्या (VIDYAA) - TRANSFIGURATIONS XIII:
Eichwalde / Berlin, Oct 21th - Dec 31st, 2005 - P#328
EXPOSITION:
I. INVOCO
II. RETRO 1
III. INTRO
IV. LAMENTO
V. ILLVDO
VI. IMITOR
VII. OBSCVRO
VIII. QVAESO
IX. SVGO
X. APPAREO
XI. RETRO 2
XII. REDDO
XIII. DESID(ER)O
XIV. SPERO
XV. MORIOR
XVI. MORDEO
XVII. CADO
XVIII. VERTO
XIX. COGNOSCO
XX. SVM
some things need be written
at night
when it's dark
when the darkness outside
mirrors the feelings
inside
the terrifying clarity
of life
the obsession
with what cannot be helped
the imposition
of fantasy
upon reality
a battle of wills, bluntly put
the things inside
the little figments
created
interfering
with whatnot
all deemed important
life's crushing in
the little things
we're surrounding us with
suffocating
what we're about
but first: we must know it
what am I?
where go I?
who knows it?
needs it be found?
maybe it's found already
and instead of waiting for the dust to settle
can't I not
see through it,
my self?
have created I this figment
this vision unreal
and unreached
but well touching my mind
making me
(I'm letting my self be made)
a carrier
(of a sickness called art)
a conduit
(of a message called art)
a bender
(of a distortion called art)
so tell me, o Muse
yes, I need some time with my muse
all other things
be pushed away
for now
like Dante wrote of Beatrice
there is this image in my mind
inside my head
insane my head
by spinning
around
this image of her
a fiction, I know
but one I invoke
one I invite
reality bit me
so now, in turn,
let her take a bite
and her lead the ride
and me be the mirror
so tell me, o Muse
there are times I like to wonder
'bout the things
that brought me here
the people
foremost
who've propelled me
into being
what now
I am
what seem I
to be
(what've seen I
to be)
don't wanna lie down
to sleep
'tis not the sleep though
'tis the waiting in the dark
before it's over for the day
how but feels it
that this should be over
over and out
so much more
the demons inside
can silent the night just
can silent the fight just
the calm
covering all calamities
under a coat
of negation
just before
the implosion
of the self
unto it's deepest fears
and longings
eros now
and thanatos
the Janus-faced duel
inside
inciter-destroyer
so one and the same
and not just
during the darkness
of errant thoughts
and hopes once lost
at time's end
(during the darkest of the night)
who'd you be crazy 'bout losing
(who'd you be crazy ha'in lost)
who'd you want
be with
if even were it
for the last
fleeting
moment?
is there a moment
a last one
meaning, a lasting one
one
which lasts
won't go away
won't deny you
one, two, three times, probably
wow, that's a cliché
and strangest though a reconstruction
by the mind
with heart in unison
(the keyboard so near now
I fear
the words jumping
from the keys
right into my fingers
right into my mind
right into my brain
right pushing the words
into the fingers
unto the buttons
and what then went on
in that office upstairs
Brain, CEO,
nobody knows
(well, some sense a hint, and others
afraid
just plainly don't wanna know)
and so
something's missing
missing dearly
hurting me almost -
I need to find it
will take it forever and --
wait, here I found it:
the closing parenthesis)
love's quite the game
I am told
and all's bout the heart --
and what 'bout all else? shall all just recede?
I need to know
there's more
than just love:
for suffer you can
equally
from love not quite found
and love always teased
by friendship
and thoughts
this is important
there's a light
the screen
and the lamp
communicate they?
make brighter the game they?
or frighter it then
fright
wait
'tis important what happens on the screen when you are drunk
or disordinated
drunk driving kills
drunk writing
oh
it has been known
and is currently showing
the viled form of writing known as coherence
revealed
as a construction
an empty one
one above all though:
the fingers need to be kept in control
oth3r2usa ew 2iewuk n oczzt jkaniw much of whtw we ubtrebded tr say
see=
the excursion
into fdelirum
shall now
be
be
uns3rtaken much more ferociously and challenglingly
lt it g n
gv t hll
(I need to shut off
the brain
betrayer of life-like-ness
creator of normalcy)
I did this
the argument
for insanity
it needs be assumed
for art once to work
so enter we must
out of the sane
the sane-garden
Zen garden
how distorted now an apparition
an apparition down below
reminding
that not all
is spiritual
in nature
but that some things are hard
and others so soft
and sometimes
the two probably should meet
if they could only find
each other
damn
now
the thinking's started again
but sometimes
near
and far
are one
and the same
(never sane)
(they say
reality's an illusion
caused
by the absence
of Dionysian stuff)
there's something strange
'bout art that is sober
something's missing
something
not channeled
not guided
or thought about
and cleaned:
'tis a matter of genre
convention
and whatnot:
what do you want
art
to be showing:
that
which we need be
or that
which we are?
a notion
may sometimes arrive
out of the depths
of ages past
but still
it matters
its question:
is life there still?
(is love there still)
these things
come as natural disasters
they strike
and they cease
you never know when
only
that
as long as you say you hope
why don't you make sure
why don't you
come closer
and see
for your
self?
like my energy's been drained
like my life
is sucked
quite out of my vessels
of blood
I feel
I'm running on empty
nothing will hold me
no one will hold me
I may just quite fold
we
tend
to value
life
as a commodity
but value we
life
once its purpose
has to be made
day by day?
why is it
you only appear
when I'm finally about
to have forgotten
all about you?
what i wrote
together with Dionysos
I could not remember
was afraid
to take a peek
at
it
there's no "you" here
neither an "I"
one's the same
the same are one
I'm quite in strangest mood tonight
a feeling pounding, nagging down, deep down
astrophysics's right, you know
a hole, deeply black
need not be empty
but - quite to the contrary -
be full of it
attracting all
making all quite
gravitate towards it
being engulfed by it
for it's not nothing
no, it's quite everything
and always so much more
than you would have expected
I feel it pulls me down, inside my self,
I'm not quite in it
hovering
in safe a distance
just feeling its lull
and feeling its lure
a siren's song
yes, Black can be beautiful
beautif'lly skewed
sublime an idea
of a world
caught
by primal some notions
I well can quite see it
well can quite feel it
know I the distance still
some moments just
these strangest moods
I feel it pulling me down, my self
I'm not quite in it
but maybe,
I want to
oh, the banality of it all!
we dream of the stars
of the heavens
of might and morals eternally high
yet still
deep down
we're still
just animals
just people
trying to get by
day by day
night by night
hoping still
coping still
still
I'll take honest banality
o'er self-proclaimed greatness
(better just be
a combination thereof)
fascinating
almost
how thanatos
(the drive for death)
is found just like eros
(the drive quite for life)
both so united
deep down?
in unison
or enemies?
something about the end
is not to be underestimated:
that it's the end
and that nothing comes after
and something else:
that a previous notion
of things coming after
was falsely seen soothing, before
still, it is poisoning
deeply, deep down
securities held, even false ones so utterly,
once lost, they still hurt
and while I've rejected
false hopes and false faiths
still do I wish
they were true
the betrayal
of the self
the greatest motivator
of all
for if there's no God to have faith in
what's left then?
just us
and inside quite, just me
oh, ain't that a burden
"when I was a child,
I spake as a child,
I understood as a child,
I thought as a child:
but when I became a man,
I put away childish things"
yet sometimes
still
I seem to miss
being a child
how I want
this wake
to end
and life
to finally
begin
I look at my self
and all I can see
little pieces
scattered around
I'm fragments all over
is there a me there
to be
found?
and even if
should be rebuilt
what's proven so fragile?
my head is turning
spinning all
around
I'm lying down
unmoved
yet still moving?
turning
prevents fixation
an inner movement
turning outside
now?
when look into the mirror I
still can see a shape, a face I
can see my self I?
well, that may be
but too much to ask for:
still, little steps
can well be made
and I am quite confident
that it's still there
after all is said and done
there's still a there there
and will be always
if we make it
if we wake
right now
so, open your eyes
and open your heart
Dec 31, 2005
| 
POEMS GROUP 21: VIDYAA
