Phil John Kneis:
SYLLOGY XXXVIII:
धर्मः (Dharma) - REALIZATIONS XIX:
Eichwalde, January 18-May 23rd, 2010 - P#500
(i) (let's call it a "beginning")
lost in reason
lost in thought
lost in past
and past endeavors
past envisionings
of late:
fate
I believe
to be a thing quite in-sane
and yet:
here I am
fatum: what is said
what's sad
is
lost in reason
lost in thought
lost in all that came before
and that came after
all came after
after
what?
some moments may be seen
as defining
a being
being
Sartreness
Heideggerness
Inverness?
"there's a hole in the world"
says the vampire
Spike
whose world
does not
have a hole
carved out of the whole
out of the entirety
out of the entire eternity
of human suffering existence pleasure ignorance endurance pain whatever life
all:
madness
is quite a good thing
sometimes
actually:
insanity, actually
may make you sane with respect to the rest:
maybe
things have to be a bit askew
viewed estranged
in order
to be seen
anew
or for the very first time:
the virginity of knowing it all
will be exposed as utter hypocrisy:
who can see the face of g-d
and tells a tale
shall be turned into a pillar of salt:
their lot will be cast
and their arrogance be known:
god
is no creature
no father
no cause
no creator:
yet a concept
of the wholeness of it all
and the embrace
of a universe
tricking us
into believing:
that humans could be better than
a raven
a coyote
a fox
a Shiva-ing concept
of return everlasting of an ongoing,
let's call it,
de-con-struction
the deconstructing mind
is a specific kind
of human:
or not
(ii) (let's call it "thinking")
thinking
can sometimes be
overrated,
utterly
speaking
sometimes
betrays a confusion
between speaking and feeling
maybe
thinking should be
redefined as something much more chaotic
than otherwisedly assumed
(iii) (maybe, "belonging")
do we know
where we are
where we need to be
where we want to be
where we want to see
what we want to see
what we see to want:
It can, it appears, be rather clearly deduced from the behavior of self-designated species Homo Sapiens Sapiens (from here on only referred to H.S.S.) that desire indeed to want what is seen may in deed be rather idiosyncratic: rumors still persist that this kind of ideological impregnation may not yet have affected all cultures, it is the observation of this xeno-anthropologist that such cultures that have remained, or are said to remain, immune to such a lure of consumerism, may be in varying degrees of denial, although, mostly about their cultural change - an other world, according to advanced resources, may indeed be possible
the galactic high command
should maybe
rething
their position
and also
rethink:
after the rethinging
whatever is reified
may need to be rethought:
there is
indeed
valor
in stupid individuality
(my supervisor says: humans should not be underestimated
at least not that much:
they are not that central
to the story
they simply believe that they are)
now how about that
(iv) (intermission originally, now making no sense at all)
let it go now
simmer
sit
in our minds
and create
havoc:
for these
memes
will indeed be
viruses
of the mind
populating possibilities
if they can
you will need to feed them back
into the meme-machine
maybe
MAYBE NOW THIS WOULD BE A SPLENDID MOMENT TO TAKE A BREAK
AND CATCH SOME SLEEP
I HAVE HEARD
THAT SLEEP IS ACTUALLY
IN SHORT SUPPY
SOMETIMES
ALAS, THE CATCHING
I AM PRETTY SURE
I CAUGHT MY SLEEP NEAR MY BEAD
I WILL CHECK NOW
HOW RELIABLY
THAT HAPPENED
SO: ideally, the poem will be off, temporarily, 05/28/2010 around 04:28
resuming, 05/17/2010 around 02:45
(v) (chalcedon)
there are indeed
two natures in one
we are both mortal
and divine
maybe even,
what's supposed to be lasting,
needs to be able
to die?
(vi) (a stranger in an egotopian place)
the island
is quite an unnatural place:
cut off
from the imagination
of the mainstay
of humanity
yet sometimes,
strangers will make it
transcend space and time
observe
like only a stranger can:
yet beware:
whoever doesn't belong
may not feel invested
there is a path to Atlantis in our minds
just follow the narrow road by the place that carries the world
by its roof
and delve into the abyss of insanity
transversing the whirlwind triangle of times past
and always
heed the call to power:
just as Plato the fascist supreme would have wanted it
in his drunken affairs with authority
yes, you'd want to be chosen
yes, you'd want your lot to be cast
amongst the highest ones:
you'd want everything to start anew
and wash away all the sins of the past and the pain:
and all the glories, the love, and all joy?
maybe, you'd feel the price would be right
Plato being such a smarty-pants, after all
yes, and no
utopia is quite a strange place
after all
who gives a shit about democracy
nowadays
when we could be happily celebrate in a I-topia
of a making our own?
(vii) (inside, maybe)
lately, I have
become
suspicious
of my mind:
are there memes in it?
little things
evolving
and waiting
to get out?
that I may speak them, write them, unleash them
let them be emancipated
and take flight
all their own?
maybe I shouldn't
maybe something in me now says I shouldn't
and what is this "I" anyway?
"I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you?"
thank you, Walt;
that doesn't get us anywhere anymore nowadays
we're in the I-World now
the fake-bookers all linked in, tweatering all aloud around abounding so
in new a world
an ego-world
a global Aphasia of strangest occurrence:
"my story" needs to be told,
they will say,
"my narrative defines me," they claim
who may not even know what a narrative or a definition would be
"I'm interdisciplinary now,"
well, strike the -ter-, for there is no discipline left:
the disciples have learned
that there needs nothing to be learned
if learning
is subject
to the narcissistic cute little bubble (pink? light blue? mauve? eggshell? apple? worm?)
they'd like to be floating in
inside, maybe,
the insidiousness of individualism
may feel all warm and fuzzy now:
where you want celebrate the I
you will not need the us
and you
will all be individuals
just as prophesied by
Brian
(viii) (anymore)
can we even
speak
anymore
saying words
that indeed mean
somethings
saying things
that indeed carry some
weight in their
urgency:
sometimes
I am quite distraught
about the state of affairs we are
in:
this
here
is supposed to be
how it ought to be?
call me sentimental,
please:
but I do feel
I do sense
a loss:
something
is missing
that should but be here:
(the reason I do not write in a more refined,
enigmatic way,
is this:
I want to be understood
I would like to be more artistic:
but I value communication
over artifice
and (post-)structuralist play)
is there a there there?
you bet your sweet cuddly behind that there is:
it is called
life
is it?
(ix) (unfinished)
I'm not finished yet
there's so much more I need to do
so much more
that needs to be expressed impressed repressed depressed
there is nothing I can do
nothing I feel I can do
but there's something I know that I do
I may not feel it quite yet
maybe feeling for something very abstract is too difficult
it will be unfinished, I fear
can something be unfinished once you get to a point
where it could be understood as deliberate?
(x) (the words)
the words
are haunting me
at every step
in every position:
I feel
there is no escape:
maybe, in a self-medicated
deliberate
aphasia
can we see whether there still is
some sense
left:
.
.
.
and then, however, I look outside
the Woods the Desert the Sea the Stars
and all these other places:
they seem to be doing just fine without us
how
about
that
now
May 23rd, 2010
| 
POEMS GROUP 23: Dharma
