…
Category: Footnotes
Categories
Memetics
How to turn a phrase
into a weapon?
How to clearly erase
Another’s interpretation?
How to fully replace
The historical notations?
Memetics
Who would seek to control
The future from the past?
Who would believe their soul
could outlast?
Who would want to fool
your whole caste?
Memetics
WE ARE 2/3 WATER
Fire at the center
First Principle
Is to Burn
First Art?
Or was it Water?
Fire at the center
of the cave
Illuminating prisoners
Trapped in their fake perceptions
Neither knowing
The Fire
Nor Understanding
The Shadows
Until they wield
The Flame to break
Their Chains ∞∞∞x∞∞∞
If I stop and take
A minute to write
Or a photograph
How much Life
Am I missing?
If a notational ear
Or observant eye
Can pull from the landscape
Into Memory than my
Experience my be more enlightening…
What is your approach?
Coleridge’s observational reproach?
Or Wordsworth’s walking as he wrote?
Which will glean and which will gloss?
Who will find meaning? What will be lost?
I find myself quite often
At a loss for themes, my memory softened
If I take too long from my observations
The meter fades and the propositions
Wash away and become forgotten.
Yet if in the moment I focus too much
On this art I offer and the places I touch
Do I leave too little of this world explored?
And proffer false narratives for you to adore?
Not the depths of this moment I’m here to explore…
1 The son of the revolution was raised perfectly
2 Taught music and mastery of mind and body
3 A proud arbiter of the grand vision of The Republic
4 Soon to stand among the chosen few Philosopher Kings
5 Prometheus was a natural leader, a talented student and
6 A fierce fighter — His meter was measured and
7 His corps moved with the grace of the river
8 Yet, in his heart was a discordant song of sorrow
9 Stirred by the tours in the artist internment camps
10 Where those who dared to create were
11 Locked away and insured never to corrupt the culture
12 They were people – passionate, emotional, irrational yes
13 But people of his land, this country he was sworn to protect
14 Now from these people who threaten order with chaos
15 Now condemned for free will, free expression, challenging
16 The rational order of The Republic with their 3rd hand visions
17 Their expressions in word and paint and sculptures of the imperfect world.
Categories
Remove yourself
It’s hard not to insert myself into
The Poem
Of course these are my feelings
Expressed herein
To de-objectify my experience
Is often a poetic sin
For how am I to communicate
These thoughts and dreams
If I don’t put myself at
The Center of Things
My desire to write has come
And gone but it is
My love of Nature that brings
Out these songs
I must denote these beautiful places
That bring me joy in these outward spaces
Categories
Notes on Canned Goods
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.
Categories
this art is not yours
Stop it!
Why are
You do-
ing this?
Denying
Your Nat-
ure—you
Question
Your voice.
This Art
Is not
For you.
You must
make it
Work for
Others.
Without
Consumption
These are
Just words.
Without
Criticism
These are
Not poems.
Categories
Poetry is dead?
I don’t
Want to practice
A dead art.
But you are practicing it
So how can it be dead?
Gone from the memory
Of the people. Lost
Are the words to them.
Confused by broken
Syntax and boiled down
Meanings. Un-reflected
Lives don’t contemplate
Their own depravity in
The face of those surrounding them.
Not enough words for
Comprehension available.
A failing of the Academies?
Lost to glowing gods
That speak of everything
And say nothing. No food
Left for the spirit of inquiry
Lost focus of the digitized mind.
Alas, poetry is dead unless we can resuscitate the culture.
As I have been going through my recent practice and development of form, you will see a recurring capture of language. To some it may sound like I have some love for the cliche. But, I am drawing from William Carlos Williams here. I want to document the language. Capture the most common and local forms of reference. In my case that’s a southwestern mashup of red neck American English and Mexican Spanish.
I assure you it is intentional and if it’s off putting, good. Then, I’ve got your attention. Place without people is speechless.