Category Archives: #philosophy

MOVING TONGUE

There’s no crowd in the streets and no sun
In my own summer – Shove it! Shove it! Shove it!
(Shove) Shove it! Shove it! Shove it!

(The sun) So yellow a million years ago

God moved her lips and pulled from the woods
an ear and a mouth and a hip and sold it to the men
for a tale for eyes that must be A body for a suit of clothes

A head that must wear a hat

They brought the tail and shook it with their water and their jokes
“There’s a tail here!”\

The fiddler pounded his foot The fiddlesold (The sun) Shove it! Shove it! Shove it!
(Askew)
God moved her lips / And pulled from the woods An ear and a mouth and a hip
And sold it to the men \ A tale for eyes that must be sold
A bit of jealousy
And blame a bit that should be named
After a little plucking and grubbing
So, it’s the woman’s way
It’s in the dirt or else it’s dead
Sow the seed and keep your mandrake
Longer A body for a suit of clothes
I think we move moved crowds and
leve time-space alone.

:: 05 07 2021 ::

MOVING TONGUE

I think God is moving its tongue

There’s no crowd in the streets and no sun
In my own summer – Shove it! Shove it! Shove it!
(Shove) Shove it! Shove it! Shove it!

(The sun) So yellow a million years ago

God moved her lips and pulled from the woods
an ear and a mouth and a hip and sold it to the men
for a tale for eyes that must be A body for a suit of clothes

A head that must wear a hat

They brought the tail and shook it with their water and their jokes
“There’s a tail here!”\\

The fiddler pounded his foot The fiddlesold (The sun) Shove it! Shove it! Shove it!
(Askew)
God moved her lips / And pulled from the woods An ear and a mouth and a hip
And sold it to the men \ A tale for eyes that must be sold
A bit of jealousy
And blame a bit that should be named
After a little plucking and grubbing
So, it’s the woman’s way
It’s in the dirt or else it’s dead
Sow the seed and keep your mandrake
Longer A body for a suit of clothes
I think we move moved crowds and
leve time-space alone.

:: 05 07 2021 ::

I think God is moving its tongue

There’s no crowd in the streets and no sun
In my own summer – Shove it! Shove it! Shove it!
(Shove) Shove it! Shove it! Shove it!

(The sun) So yellow a million years ago

God moved her lips and pulled from the woods
an ear and a mouth and a hip and sold it to the men
for a tale for eyes that must be A body for a suit of clothes

A head that must wear a hat

They brought the tail and shook it with their water and their jokes
“There’s a tail here!”\\

The fiddler pounded his foot The fiddlesold (The sun) Shove it! Shove it! Shove it!
(Askew)
God moved her lips / And pulled from the woods An ear and a mouth and a hip
And sold it to the men \ A tale for eyes that must be sold
A bit of jealousy
And blame a bit that should be named
After a little plucking and grubbing
So, it’s the woman’s way
It’s in the dirt or else it’s dead
Sow the seed and keep your mandrake
Longer A body for a suit of clothes
I think we move moved crowds and
leve time-space alone.

:: 05 07 2021 ::
I think God is moving its tongue

There’s no crowd in the streets and no sun
In my own summer – Shove it! Shove it! Shove it!
(Shove) Shove it! Shove it! Shove it!

(The sun) So yellow a million years ago

God moved her lips and pulled from the woods
an ear and a mouth and a hip and sold it to the men
for a tale for eyes that must be A body for a suit of clothes

A head that must wear a hat

They brought the tail and shook it with their water and their jokes
“There’s a tail here!”\\

The fiddler pounded his foot The fiddlesold (The sun) Shove it! Shove it! Shove it!
(Askew)
God moved her lips / And pulled from the woods An ear and a mouth and a hip
And sold it to the men \ A tale for eyes that must be sold
A bit of jealousy
And blame a bit that should be named
After a little plucking and grubbing
So, it’s the woman’s way
It’s in the dirt or else it’s dead
Sow the seed and keep your mandrake
Longer A body for a suit of clothes
I think we move moved crowds and
leve time-space alone.

:: 05 07 2021 ::


FIRE OF HEARTS

THE bad weather had subsided. \the sound of the spring equinox heralded the falling of a silence on the world. In the village, a few village men, young and old, sat around the long dining table, eating by candlelight. The village elders had gathered to select a new sage-the young had no wisdom, yet the wise men desired the young-and so they seated the young with the old, and none left alive would ever know. Before the elders sat the long table, with an old flint spear on it, it was cold to the touch as it glowed in the light from the candles. \(but it was worth it, it was the knowledge that I will not return. \) one of the young men said: \((I chose this spear, because, when it strikes, the spear will be split in two. Half of the spear will go out to become a bird, so the wisp of a spear can fly around, being a bird, and think about what we had, and whether to go on. Half of the spear, the half that is left, will come back to me, and I will become wise, and then I will guard it and understand the power of flight, and perhaps build a new village with a thick stone wall and and a trapdoor into the next world.\)) \((a warthog man-creature, \) another young man said, drawing into words his inability to remember his family and friends. ((I thought of my parents, my relatives, my village, my friends, but my home and my parents are gone now, so I do not miss them in the way that I could, if I could recall them again. They may as well not be a part of me now, any more than my eyes are part of my body now that I see without them.)) \((but what of the village, of my life? the wisp of a spear? what shall I do with it? \) the young man asked. \((I think I will remain with my people, but I do not know why I feel the urge to guard it. All I know is that it is a burden I should not bear, so I will not leave it behind. I suppose that in the end, knowing is not knowing, and the answer to the question is as elusive as before. And that is my answer to the way ahead, at least for now.\)) ((the other young man, here, said: I think I will go home to the city, and live among the people I grew up among. I will remember the things of my youth, but not the sorrows of my home. I will continue to be a father, a brother, a friend, but I will not become a part of that grief, it will not be mine.)) \((and then they said: That will be our voice, young man-creature, that will take flight like a winged dove, flying far away from us, flying away to a future beyond us, far away from our sorrows, and far away from our questions,\)) ((the old said: With what voice? what is there to compare with the way that can song that speaks words we could not have? I speak the deepest wisdom of the elders, and yet it is another mouth, another voice, and yet it has it own power, with words so beautiful and profound. Look at the blood of your children, and remember, look into your wife’s eyes and see, hear, hear, hear our song, which will return to us someday. Our words will leave us, to be another’s song. But our song, which was our voice in the first place, and remains ours by right, will return to us someday. It is not the way ahead. Yet even in that deathly quiet of remembering, you will know us. You will know the words that we sing, for they are our voices in the darkness, that will return, if we are lucky, to us. They will not sing the words that we have said. We will sing a new song, the song of our next, better life, which has more meaning than this one. The words that speak of sorrows, of homes and families that are gone, the deaths of young and old, those words will all have to be lost, for we will lose ourselves in the voices of our children, if we continue on.)) \((the young man-creature took some of the spear-wisdom that was given him, and drew it into a kind of pouch, and a strap of leather. He then cut his wings away, and his hair, and changed into the likeness of the wisp of a spear, with hair of copper and gold in it. He went to a chamber that was like the eyes of a hawk, and looked out at the world through its eyes, and looked for a long time, at the passing of the years. He was the first of the owl-creatures that would travel, the first to leave his home and leave behind the old, dark-lit chamber, and go to a different life, away from the old and sorrow, and into the new and waking sun. The old of the dark chamber that he had entered, the wisp of a spear, the old but dearly-held wisdom, the owl-creature, the other man-creatures, all lived in the chamber with him, in that world that he had created for them.))

:: 03.30.2021::


VEGETABLES

VEGETABLES, summer sun, a touch of salt and chlorine — his take on Italian art restored by frescoes who I don’t know well and a hundred times better than it says so — almond and lime ginger lime broccoli baked on a day during a season where there isn’t any snow and everyone outside to have a picnic on the one flower in the pool that everyone is using to make salt with since everyone can slather it all over their bodies and throughout their bubbles that they carry everywhere with them yet also simmering in pools and those that surround the one they are doing it in that the length of a slip of leg is not about how long the youth can stay and carry such things in his youth and how others have never felt as they were and how how he has never looked into their eyeballs knowing that the greenery remains awake, in a world that has been turned off and some even have forgotten how to look and still are drenched in cool water, and the scent and the texture of what it is in you and around you the fragrance of the space and the darkness and the sweat and the heat and the syrup and the celery that goes along

:: 03.28.2021 ::


TODAY HOW POETRY DAZZLES

TODAY how poetry dazzles gradually
  as rain falls slantly
our eyes surprised by equally
blind.

As children weep for adults
and adults ache for youth.

Within love lies a beating heart
and death echoes circuits of life.

Our often dismal living flesh
feels delightful in death.

:: 12.18.2020 ::


BURNING CITIES

AS cities burn without regret
while people have hysteria
many weep — \for what is lost:
our Republic and common sense/
  Parents hugging their little ones
as many lose their faith,
this once great land sliding into
mysterious madness / an abyss \
All these threats are made by you
and me and them.
if we never confront the madness
before us —
  Oh, how i fear both sides of this
political fence and especially
Oppenheimer’s little toy
where gift of light and love has
no hope nor control!

Believe me as I write to you:
no one wins and everyone loses then!

:: 12.14.2020 ::


NOW YOU KNOW

i look within the mirror (things are not looking good)
a mind of a man; a soul of a woman: when my dreams
stretch out love surrenders.
My body, savaged by pain (i am as a peasant)
undermines Love.
— makes romantic spirits
leap into the bottom of a
deep chasm of Earth.
The soul can never get old a marching army of night
invaded me as a weapon; but as i breath i repel
the hordes with my heat
i sought a woman so strong
, intelligent and soft: a body of skin, of fire,
of firm and thirsty milk!
i hold her bountiful breasts ! and hug warm and womanhood.
still i feel i am sinking:
so now you know. my thirst and desire for woman without
end — a wavering tight road!
so now. I know there are cemeteries so lonely, for my kind.
Dead bones that do not move. but all dead and
living hearts move through a tunnel!

:: 09.09.2020 ::


DO NOT ALLOW THE MOON TO KEEP YOU

THESE SIMPLE NIGHTS are
simple dreams
if you are going to
dreamland take parsley
,sage and a white candle
and remember those you
left behind:  they were once
the best friends in love
    tell her to meet me outside
by the deep forest green —
express the light and spirit
i once felt when she first kissed
me there.   A scarlet mark upon
my heart and Life which I shall
wear with honor for the true love
of mine.

:: 07.23.2020 ::


THE DOGS OF WAR

[even i could not speak
to those called, “Them.”]

so Now! (*)Dogs of war (+)and
men of hate
,so they come!
\and All it’s courtesy just
flesh and bone
which may crush so does hope
life & eventually Love
if not prepared./

:: 11-07-2016 ::

cheat sheet: (*) Act 3, Scene 1, line 273,
William Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar.
(+) Dogs of War, Pink Floyd. A Momentary Lapse of Reason


CAT AND MOUSE CONVERSATION

THE cat with three eyes
saw the mouse with two
said the mouse to the cat,
“i’ll gladly give you cheese
for an eye” whisker-twitching
thinking-cat pondered…
said, “if the toy gets trapped
under the refrigerator,
was it ever a toy at all”
the mouse wept knowing
a third eye is god-like

:: 09-11-2015 ::


BABY BREATH BURN ME

THERE once was a home  where love was drunk
say do you know south? it’s near hell on earth
and i like tinker toys a classic toy that brings
grandparents, parents and kids together
–when i was a kid culture was in a dish
of phlegm and raw pain
spools, rods, flags,
washers, and end caps!
and if undetected mental health issues keep people
from bouncing upon rubber-walls
build a windmill! using the hands in life of the body god
gave me!    and i refuse to eat after psycho-surgery
tak!  tak!  talk with me i’m so lucid i cut flowers
with the edge of the burning sun
burning — tinker toys!
aah!  away!  got a Living
Will and do not resuscitate: everywhere i smell semen
and crushing ovum eggs upon the sidewalk of life!
Ovum-oh-hum-ho-mum
yellow chicks are cute
as flesh-babies just born
Baby breath burn me!
:: 08-05-2015 ::