I sit with pen
Open Third Eye
Let go this “my”
And let loose
My mind
From pre-meditated
Preoccupation
Lose the I
Let go desires
Open up your ears
To the rhythm
And pace
That surrounds you
As it goes about
Its own business
Pays you
No thought —
Mindfulness
Begins with
Mindlessness
You must empty
The chalice
To receive new
Prophecy
Must we put a name to it?
Must we give it meaning?
The Devil, Demons, The Angel of Death
What you call IT is revealing—
Angst, grief, tension, stress
So many names that I digress
For I do not believe
The language is right
To describe endless terror
“The Things” that cause fright
Primordial Fear
Feels a lot more than
Words
It comes from a place before
Comforting verse
No, you don’t need a name
For the unending dread
We all share the same
[feelings]
That Fear’
— Being Dead —
With deeper meanings our
Redemption calls
Forgive ourselves, forgive
Our foes
All these things that we
Never controlled
Each thing that dies
Gives room for birth
Our brave renewal is
Not a curse
Though it may hurt
To feel this loss
A new beginning turns
Back the frost
And gives way to spring
Which brings
Back
Everything we
Cherish
I initially started the writing that led to this poem by looking into the actual words that were used.
Fragility — the human condition is exorbitantly weak. We really don’t like that fact.
Boxes — Maria Kondo – put your life into neat little bento boxes— tidy up your life
Mental Boxes — when our emotional chaos is present, we work hard to categorize our responses. Tidy up our minds — but that is usually mental space filled with work and future planning. Very tidy, our future, in our minds, until plans are disrupted by social crisis.
De-coupling — Social Distancing breeds anxiety -especially for extroverts- by hallowing our our group response. When all of a sudden you take away the immediate, physically present, response that we have by being in the same room or the same table — when canned laughter is absent you realize that fake laughter that connects you is better than watching comedy dead pan. A comedian of one is not really that funny. We require social interactivity.
And a news conversation that has to wait for delayed interactions, stops people from answering naturally and responding fluidly.
Divinations
Of an un-
Kind Spirit
Isolation
When you
Get perspective
From above
And can see
Yourself
On the astral
Plane. Comp-
rehension be-
gins again
When you
Return to
What is
Real and
Whole to
You. It’s
Harder than
It sounds!
Criticism in 2019 is bordering on cruel often seeking to dismantle credibility in the eye of the beholder.
Critical (Analysis) Critiqué (Peer review)
The critic (Siskel and Ebert) is very usually the failed artist. One who knows enough about a form from their own experiments, but orient towards the analysis of said art. I am not saying that I am not open to criticism. Though I prefer to wield it against myself and to question my heroes. I myself a degreed and proper student of literature with an expensive education in letters that is only useful now that I have made a living doing other things. Analysis is perhaps a better word these days. Not so rife with the darkness, our sardonic state of dialogue.
The art of poetry has been dissected, de-constructed, rebuilt, reconstituted, regurgitated, fight over it and derided as unacceptable. I doubt
I offer anything new to its discussion, but I am very interested that poetry not go the way of Latin. I don’t want to practice a dead art.
A Place without a People is Speechless.
Clip, clip
Snip, snip
“Don’t say that”
Stop, stop
Censorship
“Cut the crap”
On lips
One slip
Could reveal me
Know? No!
Say so
Better, not free
Hide, hide
Words words
“That’s a wrap.”
Censure
Can’t say
Lingual mind trap
Say we
Do, well
Then we’re through:
“I’ve heard just about
enough from you!”
Platonic chip 2.0, reboot…online…restoring…
Objective complete. Commencing re-write…
Logic…absolute. Being…ratified, rights…
Confirmed. Human…no…longer legally…alone in
Privilege. The Philos, now electable
Swiftly and logically take up the body politic
Picture perfect, logical law that takes
Exception to the Makars who, now impeached,
Have been deemed unworthy society’s benefits.
With Socratic precision, Platos eviscerated
Human’s right while taking up the mantels of power.
By Election Day there were to be no more elections.
By Inauguration Day the Philosopher Kings took the senate
Their first decree was the banishment of the Arts!
All poets and painters, actors and bloggers were
To be identified and referred for internment.
I am starting down a series of paths to discover what this “thing” is that we refer to as “place”.
Experiment 1st draft – The Show Must Go On
I want to follow a series of poems on 1 PLACE down a structured path of revelation. 1. Place vacant objectified, absent of human interaction. 2. Place historical description of a place as used in history. 3. Place present place as it is used today. Modern representation. 4. Place potential a place can be or become something different. What comes about in a place during a music performance is dramatically different than if it were a theatrical performance. A place can be transformed and transformative.
In the beginning there was the word
and the word was good. It filled the
Lives of The People with joy
And the bold spirit of work and
Purpose and the meaning was known.
The meaning was shared in every-
Day life, the simple things were
Recognized, categorized, rasterized
Through the lines of the citizen.
The Poets Bureau was the purveyor
Of the word. The sharer in chief
The Makar of the memories of
The city. There was not one aspect
Of life that did not share the
Poetry of the place and pictures of the times of
Persons being human. Articulating,
Elevating, creating the feeling of the land.