Thinking
Poems
The
Dogmatist -scientist
(…or Die-hard)
To the unwise, let me give you
a truth
You who have crowned only
substantiated truths!
All your conclusions are in
line with such books,
Same to same, like to like!
This is of course your
short-cut to truth
Aposteriori reasoning (effect and cause):
Then you jump at covet
conclusions!
Does truth hide under hyper-rational
truths?
Perhaps under the bludgeoning
of chance?
And so not unlike is the
dogmatic-scientist!...
No: 4487 (7-29-2014)
The Wish-wash
and Slush,
Theory!
(…the reader)
More
people than you may think, want to read wish-wash, and slush! That’s not a
certain author or poet, or journalist, it’s, ‘wish-was and slush!’ Rather a
source of proceeds for the brain. It has become part of a system having a
designated function to performed within the brain, like an outer garment— Let
me explain: for you have to be a snake-eater, to digest this all at once: you
have to have a specific set of invisible spiritual dysfunctional organs that
collectively perform this specific function of process, and now the devil Has
accomplished this task—it’s called instilling (so simple a word)—instilling whatever he is instilling, inside the heart and soul, and brain and will, of so
many, thus, allowing the level of frightful, and appalling violence seep
through the brain to where it craves more and more and more, like spiritual
matter; better yet, like light striking an atom and knocking out an electron; well
perhaps like: butter on bread! It now has become a psychological and physical disease:
like alcoholism, or compulsive gambling: this is in essence, wish-wish and
slush! Believe it or not, another
comparison might be this, for the more scientific minded person: simple a wavelength, causing destructive
interference—; Satan has his devises.
No: 4488 (7-29-2014)
George
Sterling (Poet)
If
you are asking, “Just who the heck is George Sterling?” In a nutshell: he was a
poet of the 19th and 20th Century. Committed suicide in
1926. Wrote about fourteen books, which I have studied to no end. His father
was a minister, and he, was one of those rare poets, which I will explain in a
moment. He was a close friend, and
admired by Jack London, and Ambrose Bierce. And a friend to Clark A. Smith. He
was Poet Laureate of San Francisco; and perhaps we can say even Southern
California. Those who have read him, and
who have said, his poetry is too zigzagging, too complicated, or having too
much imagery, to the point of being zapped out of its long lines or stanzas, or
sonnets, let me explain: it is called indulging in a new language of reading.
Better put: the poet is trying to convey his poetry, a style that has no
language, no words, poetry that came to
him in a supernatural way, and thus, to understand it, one must step into that
realm: it is a language without narration; one he can jump to the present and
past, here or there in the clap of an eye, one with no boundaries, which he
tries to put into words with: rhyme, fix and set verse, blank and free verse, into
meter, feet, syllables, dancing to Orion’s heat waves. It’s convoluted thoughts and voices and this
innovation makes his poetry incredibly challenging to the reader. Did he
accomplish what he set out to do? Perhaps, for the die-hard poet. He was the
Faulkner, you might say, of poetry of his day; no different than reading “Finnegan’s
Wake,” a masterpiece by many, and a fake by many…!
No: 4499 (7-30-2014)
Writing of the
Galilean
Ask me once and only once, how
I wrote the book:
“The Galilean,” then ask me no
more!
For the wonder of the vision is
far beyond the farthest outpost of the mind, perhaps even the last hidden star!
—where there resides no
language of common words, no language for narration, or empiricism;
Yet by some divine golden
spiritual miracle of speech, the poetry I wrote was conveyed to me—
Incommunicable to unconnected
souls, which travel ordinary roads…
Pray before you read this book,
the Holy Spirit will enmesh you!
No: 4496 (7-29-2014)
