POEMS GROUP 21: VIDYAA

विद्या (VIDYAA) - TRANSLOCATIONS I:

NIGHT

need the night I
for my
work
to see the light of
day
in the end:
ain't ironic it
through night to day
per aspera ad astra
the oldest cliché
come to life
in most mundane
a circumstance

February 16th, 2006

विद्या (VIDYAA) - TRANSLOCATIONS II:

ARTISTE III

once write I
release I
what's in me
what pin me
just may
to sayings of nonsense
to sayings of strangeness
conforming not
to what is held dear by the rest:
to what is repressed by the rest:
the uncertainty
of the I
the strangeness
of consciousness
the danger
the threat
(to a mind believing in sanity)
(to a body believing in deeds all its own)
of something hidden
something obscured
something
made obvious
by insanity rendered
by a substance
so inane
so inaning
so insaning
that makes it alive
what otherwise
unwanted must stay
and struggling
b'hind a mask of volition
and the hypocrisy
of mind

February 16th, 2006

विद्या (VIDYAA) - TRANSLOCATIONS III:

SENSE

seek we
still
or believe we
to have found
what makes us
what drives us
home
in the end?

February 16th, 2006

विद्या (VIDYAA) - TRANSLOCATIONS IV:

ANTI-SENSE

we know
what we know
(what we're told)
we are
what we are
(what say they we are)
and everything else
is not a challenge but a threat
an insulting assault
on what they call sacred:
how much we may want it

(some asking, who're they?)

February 16th, 2006

विद्या (VIDYAA) - TRANSLOCATIONS V:

HOME

what keeps you
should let you loose as well
yet not to lose: to gain but
and keep it
so strange a thought
to value independence
over freedom
to value solitude
o'er company
to value perceptions
over life
you're independent never, but your mind can be free
and solitude's well if your mind shall be lost
choose your shackles
but in the end:
it's not how it's done
it's how you feel
and what it can give you
wake in you
to make it
your own

February 14th/26th, 2006

विद्या (VIDYAA) - TRANSLOCATIONS VI:

SOBRIETY

I (i.e. the I lyrical)
I'm lyrical quite!
(stop it)
ehem
I
seem to be perceived
sometimes
by what a different lyrical I has been blabbering out
for it's not just me
there are others
every text
every chapter
every stanza
every line
yea, every word may have
their very own
I
so on behalf
of those of us
of the society of Is
we want to state
that some are still sober
(at the moment)
our press-I will want to clarify this later
but rest assured:
there's some of us sober
while some are out, drunk
and always more are sober than drunk
but it is not the drunk
but the sober that see:
some things
cannot be accessed
without the right stuff
some things
need to be obtained
by losing your mind
but: you can lose it much better
if later return it you can
here endeth the sermon

you know you're gone over
once know you
you're not alone
all these lyrical Is are still with you
sneeze them out
(the body be felt through cathartic pain-rituals)
clean your thoughts out
throw them out!
the memes let stay
in words they'll say
what's behind
what's to be said
what's
id
and how you can get it:
drunkenness sees them
sobriety knows them
both now then write them
into the fabric
of your Is
lyrical

February 14th/26th, 2006

विद्या (VIDYAA) - TRANSLOCATIONS VII:

COMMENT

in the restroom
of a coffee shop
a picture
of George
W.
in the toilet

March 22nd/April 5th, 2006

विद्या (VIDYAA) - TRANSLOCATIONS VIII:

ENDURANCE

everything
can be over soon
just set things in motion
or accept what is moving
and then
let
yourself
be carried
by the wind

for all's just a phase
and all here is transient
everything flies

March 26th/April 5th, 2006

विद्या (VIDYAA) - TRANSLOCATIONS IX:

EXPOSITION:

ANCHORS AWAY

PART ONE: FROM THE DEPTHS
INTERLUDE ONE: MOLECULAR DANCEFLOOR
PART TWO: ELEMENT OF LIFE
INTERLUDE TWO: THE DEEPEST BLUE
PART THREE: BLUE NOISE
INTERLUDE THREE: LEVIATHAN
PART FOUR: THE HORIZON'S EDGE
INTERLUDE FOUR: ATLANTIS
PART FIVE: NEW SHORES

LANDING

	PART ONE: FROM THE DEPTHS PART TWO: ELEMENT OF LIFE PART THREE: BLUE NOISE PART FOUR: THE HORIZON'S EDGE PART FIVE: NEW SHORES

a sea of plenty
see we now
feel we now
the breeze

we're about to enter
with a full swing
a sail full of air
and a breath
taken aback
by a greater one
and swifter

I: HYDROGENIC

on this voyage
go we
firstly
down
and down
and down and
down
once more
till arrived we
(by a temporal down-going)
at a place and time
of highness spectacular
highness most masterf'lly concealed
from the select many
who're dead
all around
yes, there's some crystals
lurking around
thinking, no, that would be quite hard a word,
deeming? feeling? anyhow
they'd be made for greater things
and they were! say now some
(not those but who see them as greatness itself)
no, they've been great, according to some,
by building some structures
for life to emerge from:
that all this water
we're setting out for
and some of it currently drinking
that all this water
would not be so filthy, unhealthy, stinking clearest and barest Hydrogen-couple
with oxygen centered
a Hydrogen jukebox we quite might find!
(no, Allen and Philip have found it already)
the juke's so bad
ain't a joke it?
games, no, come later
now comes the work
the narration
in all earnest
very important
being
being
better not to be delivered drunk!
shame on yourself. spreading wild memes around,
what were you thinking! bottle it up, literally, and stop sneaking around
no
here
the tale is different
now, that I understand!
the bottle is empty
I'm running on empty
as well
(sounds more dangerous than it is)
with 6 billion on a small world's chest
yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum!

II: CRYSTALLIZE

some things need clarity
need to emerge
in a climate
of certainty:
with structures all formed
and aid read'ly given
all in its place
none in uncertainty
of hope
and help given:
some things need crystallize
'round what is given
'round what has grown
on its own
thread itself 'round
and turn
what once static
into a force
in itself:
and bridges
once needed
may some day
fall down
all on its own
and no one will notice

III: PHANTASMA

we act
not with certainty
in mind
but with the unfinished
the hopeful
the possible
and the impossible
cursing
hunting
pushing
the edge of what's known
and those that but see it:
well, what do they know...

IV: SHMINFINITY

when asked to
ponder
on the importance of the question
whether there'd be not
a seriosity at stake here
no, not at stake
still staking its claim
staking a claim unwanted, unfathomed:
infinity? shminfinity!
they shout

do re do do re do re do re do re
pppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppha!
ye think insane me
right you are
think, however, you can talk to me
a gravest mistake
hear you not?
this dancing inferno
will shut you down
in an instant
an infinity
of insanity

of the illusion so broken:
that, after all is said and done,
we could still repair
to a better place
to better deeds
to better a past
to better some ways
no, this is it
infinity shminfinity
the time is now
the end will come

V: ICEBERG

shan't it be a quest of trust?
oh no
never trust
why should you trust
from what you can see
that which you can't?
and furthermore
suspicion
has more of an air of intelligence
and secretiveness
is still believed more believable
than attempts at frankness:
ain't it all swell

VI: VOLCANO

sometimes
you love
but you're not in love

sometimes
you write
but you're not saying it

sometimes

sometimes

sometimes?

there's something
that needs be
and if it's just a single thing
but the weight of your heart
contained within
sometimes
isn't good enough
at all

VII: CRACKING

just a notion
of a notion
of a notion
of a noise:
and a sense
something's there
something
could be there
where am I?
not sure.
a sea of thoughts?
or a sea involving all thoughts?
there's a noise
leading up
to something
blue?
or dark?
darker even?
are open my eyes?
if that's a darkness from outside,
if that's a darkness from the inside,
something creeping in
or something already within
shall ask I?
if ask you, want you be answered?
's that a crack
in the planks
under me
or just the creaking
of them
under my feet?
(six billion pairs of feet)
how could I forget
a bottle of Rum?
no no no
sometimes
you need to lock your mind away
sometimes
you need look
engender the notion
into existence
to know
what to deal with
(create the monster in order to fight it?)
(how should we've known?)
(we're just molecules)
(so tiny)
(oh)

VIII: SURFACE

calm a surface
soothing so
lying out
for eternity
it seems
a blue
like a tablet
razed
this may well be
where new beginnings
can be made
don't look under it
you'll only find
and not be looking any more

IX: WAVELENGTH

long
way long
from far away
just one bump
the other
can't see it yet
whoa, that came quicker
another one, cute
more on the way?
see them you can now
feel them much more
growing as well
swell
how they're swelling
telling
tales
from far away?
not really
just jumping up
falling down
by the dictate
of a formula
beneath
just moving up
moving down
taking care not
what the world's thinking:
up or down
never sideways
that's just drift
no, up and down
now above us almost
perfect storm
how'd we get in it
any last words?

X: CHRYSALIS

something'll come
out of nothing
that prepares
out of nothingness
something'll emerge:
that nothing must have been something
or were we not looking?
(you can look all you want if you're blind)
(and strangely, some are blind by volition)
(some nothings
just aren't)

what we are
we are
what else could we be?
what else could we see?
can't see we anyway
in this sea
of chaos
of chances awaiting
chances gone
and chances ignored
all the same time
how could we
form
a clear something
a form
something
destroying not
yet building always
reconstructing
never
eliminating
remaking
reshaping
all in its place
all in its
progression
towards
the unknown:
knows no aim the future at all
knows just what is
guesses what was
aims
at maintaining
what can't be maintained:
a form
with a function
integrated
and going on
moving
through time

and dance we
to the melody
this haunting, distant melody
of this rock
of ages past
come to life
by the dance
in this sea
of words
eternal

I: AMOEBA

a form
what's a form

concreteness
what's concreteness

just something
following
and guiding
perception
a chicken-and-egg thing
a thing
without escape
a form
imagined
becomes an image
in whose wake
another image
is formed

an image
in whose image
no image
is possible
as all there is
will never be
again

so why
conform
when you can form
quite on your own?

II: VOLVOX REDUX

a bowl
within a bowl
within a bowl
of future
'xpectation
a fire burning deep
once contained it
though prematurely
(on own a volition?)
shall now be the center
of laughing
incessantly so
as all is shaking
the keys are dancing
the screen
a willing slave
to the illusions
of vision

I close the eyes and dreams appear images from days so past this room I am in, transformed it shalt be right now all, right back to the bowl the beginning the bowling green of slime and mold and whatnot of algae some algae something green something something something not so similar yet strange not a thing a being more a thing? than a being? being something ---

I need to
now
just speak a word
just speak the world
a single thing
a thing so solitary all
and old:
and new
revolving
'round
and 'round
it all:
life is life
for the sake of life
it always has been
and will if we let it
a voice
in the silence
of darkness
eternal

XIII. STH SLIMY

something slimy
something slimy
something growing
from below
slowly
indulgent
in a motion
somehow
going forward with it
or backward again
quite so unsure
on what
to be doing
well,
as long as it's going along
so splendidly

XIV. STH MOVING ON THE GROUND

that stuff has hit me
once again
I needed to shut off
the mind
that betrayer of me
and what has it cost me?
the betrayal
of the soul:
a laying bare
of the soul
purpose
here:
love

if love you,
you're gained the most wonderful thing

if love you,
you've lost all you've known ev'r before

how can something
starting so high
ending up
scrubbing the floor, barely alive?

XV. ONE FISH

water above
water below
water ahead
to the rear
to the sides
a nothingness
wet
a fullness
just felt
but a solitude
quite so intense
be felt it
like there's quite nothing else
to feel
to touch
to enjoy:
and odd a plant
and odd an anemone
odd a critter crawling around on the ground:
all are nice
but none of your kind
and kindness
not to be 'xpected
never
no more:
alone
in a void
of everything
just traces of others
and all
crouching in

XVI. THE SWARM

in numbers
strength
in numbers
wishing
the other be next:
protection
by the diversification
of threat
and the threat
of getting lost
in the loneliness
of the crowd

XVII. SHARKY & STINGING RAY

taaa-da
taaa-da
taa-da
taa-da
ta-da
ta-da
tadatadatadatada -
no, seriously now
is not there
a certain sense of apprehension
at the sight
of a predator
so ancient
and a feeling of awe
at a fossil
swimming nearby
having achieved
utter elegance
whilst the thought of a mammal
must have felt like
a joke?

XVIII. ICHTHYOSAURUS

you're so old
and gone
physic'lly
yet still, there is life in you
life
of imagination
all
oh, some still alive
don't even have this...

XIX. COELACANTH

some fossils
still alive
disturbing the present
their being reminders
of times past, with lesser "perfection"
just working quite well
just working quite still
'mongst greatest odds
to take a stand
could you then not
take a stand
just anywhere
and anytime?

XX. PORPOISE WITH PURPOSE

wish we to find
an antipode quite
a creature
of intellect
not poisoned by it

or seek we sometimes
the darkness
of a mind
of a similar
kind?

for one thing is clear:
innocence
the not-being-touched
by the toxic touch of life
is quite the idea

the middle ground
quite unattractive
to those
obsessed
by dichotomy

find now
the stereo-type:
want you be good
or want you be cool

(or want you be real? how lame that would be)

and all above all,
will know you a purpose?
a sacred design?

who the hell does this
to an animal,
please?

I.

when I see what I see
(when see I the sea)
see I
a want
a something not there
(yet)
?
what a wonton display but of magnitude
sheerest:
awaiting
a surface
getting disrupted
by an island
of promise
in a sea of searching
a glance
determined
by what we want see
by what we but need
by need
not by merits
in its own
a direction
both leading
and leading astray
injuring
that what's beneath
seeing just
commodity
and putting
interpretation
before exploration:
so if you explore
wander around
wondering
and all
will be new
will be strange
will be
a revelation
time and again

II.

a distant, haunting melody
a sound
beneath the noise of the waves
a noise of blueness
crushing in
the world embalmed by a coat of wetness
delivering life
from deep down
from the depths
calling
to
where?

III.

if call you
want you be answered?
if write you
want you be read?
if speak you
want you be listened to
or maybe
just heard?

some times
it's just melody
we want
some times
though
we want the full story
in song
in an opera
of glass a house
preserving
what little there's left?

IV.

in an ocean
made of tears
it may not need an opera
may not even
need a melody full-fledged
just a single voice is needed
to make new
what's seen as old
to awake
from the dream
and the nightmare
to life:
don't fear

XXI. JONAH

some message, though clear,
may come it unwanted
and haunt you
and find you
even when you let your self be swallowed
and carried by the sea
(a single fish may do, some say)

I'm not finished here yet
some finishing
well needs to occur
needs to be done
by me?
or to me?
a finishing off
a finishing
of what?
a task
yet to be completed?
fishing
for a truth
yet to be discovered? or just hidden? hiding? repressed?

a haunting, distant,
melody?
or more like a noise? a blue noise?
swelling
growing
pounding
'pon the planks of the place where we're standing

so, what do you do
if called by the Lord?
first, there's no Lord
second, there still is no Lord
third, even if were there, you wouldn't be called

say now, it's a prank call
some one
pretending
to be the Lord
calling you
to save a city
from decadence
and despair
now
decadence
is everywhere
is hope
is ruin
is art
is destruction
so, none like big news
second
destruction
if he were the Lord
why not prevent then the thing by Himself?
are pawns we?
the executors
or preventers
of his impotent wills?
and if potent, destructive?

no, I'd prefer
to not call
a voice in my mind
a Lord
if spoke it about
damnation and honor
for know I'd then
that (one) hearing voices is quite pathological
and (two) such a voice could only be of a sociopath
so
why not flee?
ignore?
oh, but in the company of dumbsters
believing
to be appeasing
the sea
by cutting an animal's throat
or shoving a man into the throat of a shark
they could forego
their allegèd damnation
damn, what a nation
that would be listening
to those fools

this now hits close to home
I know
that's why he left
that's why he had to go
who's he
to be the messenger
of mental disease?

we all get drawn in
the excitement
of catching the bad man
the revelation
of seeing an outsider be savior
the noblesse
of be(com)ing the chosen one

psychotic?
for sure!

newsflash:
a superman
eaten by a great shark
for dereliction of duty
(once the boss seemed unethical)
escapes
aided even by the boss
(who even controls the shark, what an ethical mastermind!)
goes
now
saves just another Gotham
from the lurings
of life

oh, ain't this tiresome

why don't you chew, sharky?
the monster's inside

XXII. NOAH

there's something wrong
with the sea
it doesn't seem
to stop
before our majesty
before our might
before our arrogance of knowledge

see we what's there
yet see we not
know we what's there
yet know we not
feel we what's there
yet feel we not

we don't want to see
we don't want to know
we don't want to feel

:

for if we were to
we'd have to think
'bout doing things diff'rently

so
do you feel
compelled
to serve
to protect
and now take a choice
when all you'll have done
just can't be enough

also
(and just as a thought)
you could be wrong now

XXIII. SKYLLA FLIRTING WITH CHARYBDIS

hello my dear,
how I adore
your thirst so immense
your voracious appetite
for life
sucking all in
leaving quite nothing
to be desired:
a completion
of consumption
quite so alluring
a mouth
that takes all
yours, S.

hey gorgeous one,
how through your strength
your head-strong initiative
quite see you all
in coldest apprehension
seducing me
by picking apart
'fore my very own eyes
what by me
could only be swallowed
wholistically
yours truly, CH.

honey-mouth you,
your mystery deep
is drawing me in
almost
at least
it's drawing me close
to see
take a peek
t'wards your secrets quite innermost
should lose a branch I
lose a head
inside your beauty so skewed
I'll just grow a new one
knowing
I'd have surrendered not
just given in
to a sublimity
supreme
love, S.

hey you,
somehow
I feel
that even though
we've split up the sea
quite neatly between us
your efforts towards me
must stay quite in vain:
'cause fixed here we are
your searching inside of me,
must stay it in vain:
nevertheless
let's have a ship
now and then
and do lunch
regards, CH.

XXIV. SINKING FEELING

insanity
without the compromise
of (re)cognition
(do I know you? maybe I just don't wanna)
and the like
the perfect choreo-graphy:
death
and life
dressed
alike!
so that no one will recognize
the one
from the other
thanatos! eros!
mingle!
and bring fruit
a strangest one
a strangest mind-fruit
seeing in death
as much a potential
as seeing in life
one, done by your self
the other trusting your self to continue:
an approximation of probable behavior into a future unknown!
(mathematically speaking)
a future unknown
which we're constantly sinking towards
and which now
as we are seeing it
not looks that different
from the future unknown
presented to us
just some hours ago
it's just minimal disturbances
maybe some day
creating a way
out
of the dichotomy
of Skylla
and his companion in temptation,
Charybdis

XXV. PROMETHEAN WOUND

'twas
Prometheus
who
having played with fire
and given it
away
didn't as much
get punished
for the act
but for the violation
of authority
so grand
and even if pains it
and even if want they
that the body be felled
that the body be felt
(that the body be felt by cathartic pain-rituals)
in order to see
(to be seen)
and that be felt
it:
the everlasting
burden
of life
the weight
imposed by thinking
on being
even if so
what else then to do?

is choice there still?

different all
once infected
with the drink
of vision:
see I
my vessels
(the vessels in this vessel that is I)
more clearly
blood
pounding its way through, so relentlessly
other stuff
you have to work for, it seems
it's going on
it's going
now

the authority
I was afraid of
see you not?
it's all in my head
their rule over me
a figment
ceded importance
by my imagination
is not th' authority
we're working against
quite of our own flesh?
our own body?
our own mind?
and soul?

are not we
prisoners
of ideas
in our head
maintaining
their imitation
in others
the propagation
of these memes:
how
now
do I feel like a slave
to these
I know no one tells me
to write
but still
there's no "one" there
but still, there's a "there" there
I feel compelled
something's making me
something
for the moment
fighting
the same fight:
let victory be
and freedom reign
the rules shall fall
be mortal
or immortal they
(once immortal were they, and fall they can still, how immortal 've been they?)
and if it takes
the sacrifice
of my body
to the idea
of life:
why not, so be it:
the unexpected
shall be where you find me
the unexplained
where all will get clear:
the eagle
of empire
will keep picking
at the wound
laid open
by the search for truth and for action:
and this is my curse:
that all my way
I'm on a flight
from what wants me to fail
because
they want initiative to fail
want knowledge to fail
and, in the end,
want life to fail:
they are the eagles

XXVI. ODYSSEUS MEETS SINDBAD

and amidst
the insanity
of it all
let there be
inspiration
let there be
a way
to sneak in
and at least now to end it
even if
we'd be shaming the gods
even if
we'd be the ones getting the blame
erring around
on an errand
of seeking
what's never just found
and even if be it
a horse made of wood:
no Cassandras can stop it
for greed, just as hope,
will always conspire
for fate to endure:
let in now what's coming
let in now the faker
who will but destroy
what so much now fought for
that songs have been written
'bout this very plight:
yet let the man
who envisaged this ploy
be plagued by his gift
and cursed by it
well,
so true a follower of Prometheus quite
shan't feel he the burden?
shan't pay he
his dues?

it's always the trickster
challenging the boundaries
of reality:
but just like a spider
someday
he might just get caught
in his web
so proper

and storms may well carry him
carry his men
carry his soul
passing the wonders that held by this place
turning to terror them
beauty turned death
by the song of the Sirens
love turned obsession
in the hands of a Circe
and Skylla smiling at Charybdis

and enter a cave now
with shapes on the wall
see you the entrance?
shadows but all
in yonder a neatherworld
a shadow, in ages to come
will find he quite
the same cave
and a distant relative
of Polyphemos:
in double a blinding
Odysseus will take
what later takes Sindbad
his fellow in madness
and erring around:

and all through all time
the stakes getting bigger
and eagles be rocs
and behemoths stalking the land
will soon turn to leviathan
to carry them on
where no man has gone
before?

XXVII. HOMECOMING

my dearest Telemachos,
from far you've been fighting
to see your father
returned
to you
you've seen my beloved
be violated
in her will
each day:
the vultures demanding their due
yes, they're quite animals
pretending to care
for the future at hand:
yet should take it
the slaughter of pretenders
to get to your throne:
hell hath no fury
than a beggar
seeking his life:
for see you:
sometimes
an arrow
aiming for the heart of love
has to pass through all that has injured it
collecting blood
drawing
from the specter of death
the will but to life

XXVIII. MEDITERRANEAN GRAVEYARD, AQUATIC

a plank of wood
under the sea
in the middle
between the continents
rotting
silently
quietly
a survivor, barely,
of times past
of tales past
all blown up by remembrance
so
and what now remains
are stories
are words
some say, this is all supposed quite to stay
the price tag
got buried
by the waves
the murdered woods
having carried
too many
into the sea
only
to be dragged
into the deep

some say, they died for freedom
from the tyrannical threat of the East
some say, they died for the people who ruled
in a city far, far away
some say, they died for the nation
so that it could stay all free from intrusion

some say, 'tis an honor
to be dying for concepts held high
some say, that in death may lie meaning
as much as in life
some say, that to follow
is more of a deed than to lead your own life

't may all be quite true
what they say
of course
yet to those
rotting
deep down
or buried
in this dirt
of ages past
what's it to them?

and all, through the depths, they keep calling:
no more
for war isn't clean
and never but holy
and never will be
and heads held up high
in pride
won't ever see the ground
plastered
with graves
of people made heroes
by the dictate
of story
over life

XXIX. HO EN TÔI MYTHÔI LOGOS

in the beginning
a sense needs to stand
to make sense
of what sense
cannot be attributed to

of course there's sense
in the outer world
independent quite
from what's within
yet do we feel
that's quite enough?
do we hear
the sound of the stars
do we know
the meaning of it all?

an obsession with meaning
an obsession with meming?
(memes it all and not to better?)
(it's memes outsmarting genes, don't you see)
(at least that's been tried)
try me
to see
a world
of our making
a world of our shaping
condemn we not thus
one part of two
to damnation?

the truth inside myth
the truth? the word? the sense?
in there?
out there?

maybe though
there's truth to the notion
that story
controls
truth

what's truth but?
the mind's eye:
an interpreter
of insanity
in the realms of
negation

for there are times
when to talk in myth
(mytho-legein)
's the only way
to talk at all
yes, sometimes
you need lies
to tell the truth

XXX. AHAB

persevere we
sever we not
the bonds of reality
with destiny?
when destiny appears
some of the times
there's ending, destruction
and fate quite so certain:
a being drawn back
into the floods
where once
it all came from?

an obsession
we cannot quite sever
from the dream but
of clarity
the dream of
perfection:
for there is insanity
lurking
at the bottom
of each barrel
of blood
(I'm a fountain of blood
knows the singer from Iceland)
and icy a palace
we've built:
purest white, the color of death
will it melt,
will its substance
return to the sea?
or will stay everything we've touched
a separate thing, severed from life?
this illusion again: that sever we could
our being
from nothingness
our sense
from what is
our story
from life:

and white a lie
and white a salvation
pursuing we are
hoping
to persevere
while being drawn in
by a destiny
of own our making

I.

on the ground of the ocean
a creature, a thing
a monstrosity of sorts
winding itself
'round the foundations of continents
and islands
promising
to be arriving
any time
soon
(at the end of time)
(i.e. any day now)
to bring an end
to history:
embalming the last men
in its grasp
of control:
a creature, a cry
a solvent for paths individual all
or wants it us rise?
are we ready but
to go play with Leviathan
all on our own?

in far a scape
we might imagine
to control
what's flowing within us
that fly it us will
towards the outer reaches
of the mind:
a space
infinitive,
unbound:
infinity
a way to lose your pretty self
your pretty soul
to monsters quite
that know no limits neither rules:

and what you shall see
will be, sometimes, dreamt of
sometimes in whish
sometimes in nightmares
haunting us, always
all now
just rest

II.

the beast will emerge
will surely but show
the reach of its might
its terrible fright
its mastr'ry of hope:
and all between all
all answers shall wait:
caught
in a web
between what's not to be
and what we want it to be
a nether-realm
of neither-this
and nor-the-other
(see a cake we, see a knife,
all philosophy contained within
this still life
of banality,
assumedly)

III.

shall we eat it, perhaps?
is time not quite right?
a monster
of own our imagination quite here
drawing us in
into its spell
of destiny
of faith
of the way things quite are
of what is proper, prim and right
primed, alright
to fire
'gainst which we lead the assault
'gainst our needs
most primordial
and urgent
(both, though, may clash,
what's primordinal, may not be urgent, just feel like it
and what's urgent, in primordinal thought is quite not contained it within)
no
the times are gone
are slayed quite, successfully
the times
when a leviathan almighty
could dictate
govern
into every little thing
this is not life
this is not even preserving life
this is
fear
from what's been held back
I see the concerns
I see the concessions
I see it
it's true
and it's right
and it's false:

for need confront we
what we don't know
for need attack we
what one day destroys us
for need let in
into the monastery of our "soul"
the very thought
that might destroy it:
for the sake of a better,
a purer,
a thought that is working:
take it all in
take all chances
and take it quite just all the way
you'll have seen it all
you'll have imagined it all
you may do it all:
beware now, the question, and all will now triumph:
does it, whatever it does,
errs it, whenever it does,
on the side of more gain, and humility/humanity,
so shall it succeed
if not
shall it be buried
as an afterthought
not ready
(maybe, yet)

XXXI. WIND

wee wee
we
see
see we?
we, the sea,
seaweed?
wee wee
wee, the wind
an aiolos
talking
with itself:
unleashing
a force
majeure
and primal
and invisible
if were it not for the effects -
upon this rock of ages past?
a distant, haunting melody?
for all to see?
wee, wee
no:
to see?
to feel
and appeal
to
what?

XXXII. ROCKS

the death
behind death
the author
behind the writer
of words
another level
other layer
other lair
where questions arise from
where thoughts will get killed
and need, it appears,
sometime just
a timeout
a sanctuary quite
and better:
a salvation
from this flow
of thoughts all around:
from the ever fluctu'ing sea
it's this rock
of ages past
that screams now in agony
thinking 'bout the tale to be told
knowing quite well
't will be its very own undoing
now, what say we
if not may we
push ahead
if all
is weak
and all
needs aid

XXXIII. PEBBLES

small
but yet plentiful
little, small steps
one at a time
never too much
never too little
(pebbles aren't rocks, neither dirt but)
and slow:
we have time
we quite do need time
we quite but are time:
time's in us
has formed us
has made us
quite who we are
quite who we'll be
round, smooth perfection
the conquerors
of shores past and present
a force
of smoothness quite, of slick
and should you throw us
bow you must
to our form
to our shape
to our interest:
to return
to what made us
to what
we quite here represent:
a shape
unshaped
by a force
so miniscule a giant
a beauty
out of the brutality of contact constant
and a smoothness
hammered out
of this rock
of ages past

XXXIV. LOOKING FOR BIRD SHIT

empires
have fallen
and survived
by the supply
of the dinosaurs' heirs:
fields of dignity and promise
fueled
by the droppings
of those
descending from giants:
the shit-miners
upholding
the shit-minders
above?
(oh, that's gross)
(but still)
now, we can make
can artificialize
what used to be natural
can separate
content
from form
can make
what had to be made
by others:
but still:
SSDD

XXXV. LOOKING GLASS

need we now magnify
need we solidify
that what we see
that what we think:
a notion
that something out there
could be something quite more
something of meaning
something
telling us
the time is near
the end is now:
an end to suffering
an end to asking
an end to toiling
and end to all:
and new an order
new a hope
new a land
(and new a suffering?
and new an asking?
new a toiling? that's for sure)
an end
to meet all ends
a hope
to need new hopes
a meaning
needing
new meaning:

shall seek we
what needs to be sought
shall meet we
what wants to be met?
or what want we
when meet we, we'll take it
and stamp it
as own, not as other
(as other, not own)
owning what's other
(owning, because it is other)
but wait
we're not there yet
the shit hasn't hit the fan
quite yet
there's still a chance
that amongst the searches of the mind
just some, just one, will yield
an answer compassionate
an answer quite open
that other is own
and not
to be owned

and so
a glance
outside
is a hope
for finding
and a hope
for having found
that finding
may mean not to take but to give

whenever we magnify
seek we
to enlarge what is there
or seek we
to enlarge what's inside?

XXXVI. COMPASS

make we
shape we
make we
shake we
the foundations
of what's been
and what's to come?
of what will be:
que será será?
what will be, will be?
shall be we
so negligent
in all our asking
or shan't we
make
and shan't we
break
the form that is given
the pledges all made:
shan't crumble they
under the burden
of challenges new?
and trodden paths
do speak of wisdom they or fear?
yet all is inert
and all is doomed
if not a single thought is made
yet all is changed
and all is doomed
if not a single thought
is made

XXXVII. HOPE

there's got to be
someplace different
someplace better
someplace
where
all things
just shine
and a yellow-bricked road
leads to salvation
and all that was known
has lost its curse
its limits
its rules
its power
its might:
seek a paradise we
a place
(a time?)
where all we are
gets simpler
and better
elevated we'll be
to creatures of hope
not of fate
not of deeds:
that find we then may
beyond the sea
a place
just to be
just to see
just to feel:
we know
we'll be expelled from it
eventually:
still:
just mere the notion
mere the thought
mere the hope
keeps us alive
and makes us
be

XXXVIII. WAVEFRONT

a constant noise
of an arrival
quite imminent
disrupting the constancy
of what has been
what brings it, then?
a tremor of waters
a wavefront
of what's soon to be
of what's to come:
a flood
a translocation
of might
and right now
the pattern's confusing
the story not clear:
the wake
foreshadowed
by the coming
of
the sea

XXXIX. HERE BE MONSTERS

let us designate
that what's unknown
as what is unknowable
what is
abnormal
and what is
not right:
something
to point at
something
to show:
a monster
a thing
to be warned of
to be slain
in the end
eventually
or, pretty much certain
when need we unleash
what needs be let out
anyway:
but not against "us"
it's better 'gainst "them"
after we've made monsters
out of them
so quite

XL. SAILBOAT

when
as a child
traversing the sea
an oldest idea
a pyrate's dream
the honor 'mongst thieves nautical
quite like that of conquerors so akin
setting sail
to sail where the sun sets
to have it set
mostly never
(what a childish idea)
(no, children are verging on ignorance, innocence)
so, be it boorish, or even worse things
to be called:
the wish to see
to hear
to know:
to hope:
that's something easily seen good;
and forgive me now, please,
a lack of writerly finesse
when things be described
that don't deserve a euphemism:
yet wish we to discover (what's discovered already,
by "lesser" a culture though),

but the question (the question!)
is here now:
is there no wind
for the sailboat?
there is;
let it flow then

let it go then
let it show:
of all the destinations you could think of
the only one
is the way as such:
and is there no knowledge
of things
in the future
how shall we at all
evaluate?

for see:
"us" is just memes
"us" is what works
what has to work
in the now
in the how:
how could we
risk
the present at hand
for a future unknowable?
yet maybe still,
a sacrifice
can well be made:
let's go on a limb
let's see what is there
let's go where no meme
has sent its hosts
before
(well, that's what you think)

(does it need wind for the sailboat?
now it does)

I.

Solon
speak:
you voice of authority
cited by Plato
(appealed to, more likely)
tell me
please:
you seem to be knowing more
than Plato
that faker:
for what he has told us,
uncounted quite some generations
has he led
upon a path of utter futility
(well, would only read they...)
so
the final recourse now
would be to you:
Solon
giver of laws
your relative
once
in distant Egypt
is told
t' have heard
a tale
so strange and yet
so true
(apparently)
(becoming apparent)
(becoming something that's seeming clear)
and ready
to move on
to other layers
not of thought just
yet of deeds:
words and deeds
must one become
again?

II.

there's animals
and plants
depicted
on my shades
the plants are like lianas almost
maybe ivy
and I see animals moving
on them
gekkos
chamaelea
somehow

so strange a vision
should there be life
where none there should be?
see I
faces
in the clouds?

III.

sometimes we see
but we don't see
we just recognize
don't quite intend
to understand
want to see, though,
want to feel
what pleases us
what makes us
conform
to an image internal
an image infernal
an image
so wanted
so haunted
by want:
that chosen may be we
that different may be we
that better may be we:
that excused quite may be we
from doing some things
that abhor would most humans
that do we may things
that be just by some quirk:
that a god would make just
what as humans, would shun us
would make us
outsiders;
and now
through the flow
of power
divine(d)
believe we quite may
that better we are
that chosen we are
elected:
by the god:
or gods:
whoever:
or us just
(if honest we are)
(if able we are still
't be knowing what honesty is)
so
now
representing
quite different a place
quite different a model
of society
then:
utopian,
almost,
if weren't that a word
too used but
and chagrined:
so quite:
we are
what rose
out of the depths
into salvation:
a choice that was ours
dictating quite
to others
what's right:

seek we
beyond what is known
(beyond what seemed knowable)
a world
once lost
to be found
again:

for if it's lost
must it not
have been ours
before?

so
why then not
claim it?

IV.

life is life
for the sake of ...
... what?
know we?
really?
"for the sake of life"?
what does that say?
does make it us know?
does it
anything
to make us want know?
make us
see
some thing
other
than what we would want to?
really?
say that we want to
say that we say that we want
(that's more likely)
(who wants believe
life has an interest
quite in itself
we're far too obsessed
with the meaning of meaning...)

V.

maybe if sometimes
the ivy
be sweeter
and much less bitter (embittered?)
people could listen
people could see
people could touch:
the simplicity
in complexity
the complexity
beneath the simplicity
and that a message
is of its own
and that to judge
sometimes
well needs be informed
well needs be well taught

VI.

out of reach
reach of time
reach of space
reach of everything that matters
is of matter
cannot be changed
cannot be willed
cannot be done:
but is:
and does:
undoes us, even
will us, into obedience, it:
and change our course
while when we want change,
nothing comes out of it
just utter inanity
all cloaked in insanity
gasping
for truth

VII.

so now
do we accept
the (once-) truth as myth
(and the myth holding truth of another quite breed)
do see we
an option
for fantasy
inspiring reality
and making it
real?
a phantasma
a specter
haunting not
aiding but:
in the construction
eventually
of what has been sought
since the very beginning:
that if not find we
an Atlantis
that might make we
an Atlantis
to stand the test of time
and all, most important of all,
of imagination even
?

XLI. GULLS

need a messenger sometimes we
aiding us
guiding us
providing us
with a providence
sought
yet not seen
believed?
just by facts:
who sails
on faith alone:
a blessed one,
an idiot though
a lucky one, perhaps, sometimes;
faith based on signs quite material:
that's something else
that's something
to work with
to genuinely
explore:
and seeing the gulls
arise
on the sky
so sure a sign
that one voyage
will end
while another
begins

XLII. BEACHES

the promise
of the beach
on the crossroads of eternity (the sea)
with the ever changing life
a moment be stolen
to just suck it in
to just now here
dwell
in this time between times:
pick a pebble
pick a clamshell
watch some critter crawling quickly away
and the birds, cycling up high,
on the lookout
for prey
and predators
predates this thought all
predates it
the first
tiny
moment:
a fish
crossing over
becoming a being of land
some have gone back
some just for fun
but even us who've stayed:
the lull of the sea
still being felt
at the borderline
of wet
and dry

XLIII. WOODS

and into these lands
these virtuous lands
virgin-like lands?
we kept coming
and saw:
a land
used, but not subjugated
exploited, not raped:
what kind of heathen
would stop short of rape?
get through with it! done with it!
'tis ours for the taking
and let no prisoners be spared
from what could be done to them
in the shadows
of the woods
many men could be killed
many more women
could well have had fun with
in these woods of ages past

later times may speak of these savages as noblemen
may romanticize them even
saying, how all in harmony arranged
and ignoring the work all done in between

in the future, further,
both sides might meet
and see that they're one
the same, yet different
but same in humanity
sane not, no, neither: far too much has happened here
the searching for sanity
in a history of insanity
what hope would be left?
just the one:
amongst all
just this:
no savages
no noblemen
no colonizers

just people

entering the woods
living the woods
leaving the woods
as much as them pleases

why force?

XLIV. CHRIST-BEARING DOVE

behold!
here comes no single man
single-handedly he's erred
so profoundly
has he calculated Earth too small
finding now India
in America
what a troll
but with a mission
a determination:
here comes no single man
sent by the kings and popes and majesties all
a dove
coming in peace, he says
bearing
a boy
a baby boy
on his shoulders
Saint Christopher
of the Santa Maria, the Pinta, the Niña
bringing
the all-important gift
he knew:
the destruction of culture
far more valuable
than the mere killing of life:
kill a man
you kill his future
kill a culture
you kill a tribe
in all these times, past, now, and coming:
but how
please
could this be
called a war:
look at the innocence
of baby Jesus
in sweet immaculate Mary's arms
I doubt not the picture
I do doubt the pictor
I do doubt the holder
of that image:
"God wills it"
the fakest excuse
the perfect excuse
now's legitimate all:
now come
and cry havoc
and unleash
the dogs of war

XLV. ATL-TLACHINOLLI

behold!
here comes no single man
here comes, in all his glory, might
a man of court, high up his horse
he'll know Malinche
he'll know so many, many more
his court will blast away
the one from the cactus by the lake
while his bizarre friend
will spread the word far south
and head-of-cow will write all down
blood now flows from pyramids so steep
has it flown ne'er before,
now it will:
(God wills it)
let water mix with fire
both will scorch in blood-dimmed tide
and gods from ancient times will fall
to be reshaped now into faces
of the virgin-born destroyer
that all be saved
that turn 'nto lambs
to be slaughtered, or to serve
that all be withered
brutally away
by the sword that's the word of the chosen
so that be known
(i.e., be raped)
this virgin land
and books be burnt
and words erased
and people will be disappeared
if not conform they
not confirm they
the wills
of Cortés
of Pizarro
of Jackson
of Custer
and all the white knights
all these high men
these horsemen
revealing the truth
of conquest and war
of hunger and pestilence
and so much more
God willed it,
you know
yet they willed it more

XLVI. WHITE FIELDS OF DEATH

a scene so calm
a picture acquiescent so
a field of whiteness reaching far into the sky
and hear I chanting?
hear I happiness?
for sure!
there's black a caravan of innocents
who've been blessed by carrying the whiteness
so that the world may see it
white bales of fluffy happiness
to clothe the world
to cloak the world
from all the sadness, all the pain
all the blood that made the Atlantic
a Red Sea of fate
parting north
from south
that the white of holiness and mind
be in perfect a contrast
with the black of savagery and shame:
poorest Cain
bound to the cane
by a web of lies
in a coat of savage compassion
(Christ willed it, you know)
that be these beasts of burden
healed
through their mark of pain
that once they might dream
of partition to end
that once they may dream
to be heard, not just seen
that once they can dream
for all but to live

XLVII. OVER THE EDGE

walking
towards where the rainbow ends
or begins
near the point
where day becomes night
to become day once again
a terminator eternal
circling the world
or the world turning below it, rather
a horizon
shifting
turning
re-turning
same, yet but different
returns all, but in variations
in difference
differentially
turning
towards what?
towards a thing at all?

at daylight, the sun's the only star that matters
his rays so forcefully to light now bringing
a guiding light, this simple signal
and all we see
is quite down here
yet it's the darkness of the night
that other stars lets now appear
and shift our glance to other things
to other places
of the mind
and space:
that now we may yearn
for virgin lands quite anew:
what a treasure may await us!
what a shape of things to come!
yet that's another chapter altogether
and maybe then
what time will bring
what then unfolds
on different fields
in different scopes
all new will be
and freed the cycle
from the return
of ages past
somewhere
over the rainbow

XLVIII. SKYLLA DREAMING OF CHARYBDIS

they say
I'm a monstrosity of sorts
quite a thing
burning with the death of countless minds
that in this time of mine
I've been the grandest of the maniacs
I dare you though
don't know you of the other one?
has not my companion, though distant,
caused pain quite so equally, exquisitely?
yet that one you revere for secondary thoughts
and mine stay enclosed
in my fate
that says I'm the devil
for now, don't see you?
we're quite the team
even now:
in the revolution of blood
this battle between pain and suffering
who's to say
there's got to be a victor?
can't we both
lay claim to fame?
yet,
how do I dream of the other sometimes:
for that's my excuse:
and my backup as well:
lest none shall pass by
without being changed
for life
or for death

XLIX. HERE WERE MONSTERS

now that we've seen
now that we've been
those places once magical
ephemeral
intangible
once filled with monsters so
and things believed, ne'er seen:
we know now
much better than ever before
that there've been things
there are still things
unspeakable
unbearable
deeds that dare not be imagined
thoughts that dare not be conceived:
and those performing them, they're real
yet maps can't tell the place to find them
but history can
and, oh, yes, the news

L. A SHINING LIGHT

so now
let's build a lighthouse
let's send a beacon
it says:
welcome
to the devils you know

and maybe,
come time,
it may even say:
we've seen
and we've learned
we're finally cured
or at least, working successfully on it,
so that,
sometime,
we'll be able
to spread not just fear
but hope
as well

we murdered the woods
to get away
from the desert we've made
searching for wind
for the sailboat
no need:
we're finally there now
the wind is a bit on its soft side now
humming
a distant, haunting melody
oh, we've dreamed
we've sung
yo ho ho
and the bottle
holding the message:
we're still looking
in a sea of plenty

November 24th, 2006