Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Thinking Poems

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,
(…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)