Tag Archive: poetry


Perfect Secrecy

Filed under: Mythology, Philosophy, Postmodern — 53 Comments
October 22, 2011

‘save me from the lion’s mouth; for thou hast heard me from the horns of unicorns’ Psalms 22:21

I found myself somewhere
at the edge of the known earth
in an age when there is nowhere left to hide
pursuing unicorns, my elusive alicorn cure
for you it was always a game
you never think I remember
but the blunt force trauma
entered my mind all twisted,
as a matter of survival

Your missive arrives
in that cryptographic mind
geography’s incomprehensibility
impossible to decipher
a one-time pad
on a sheet of nitrocellulose
it burns instantaneously
leaving small ash

We agreed ahead of time
for the 23rd of October
a truly random sequence of letters
trick of modular addition
only I got lost in the ciphertext
mistaking it for meaning
meta-language to transcend
what came before

A tortuous inculcation
using proximity and shame
more like a rearrangement
the homonym of my name
anagram, a twisted joke
more than one hundred thousand
(because the numbers
never lie) forming a:
cacophonic bestiary
axial defense
detested asset lure
hush, rue

A spiritual starving
that hollows me out from the inside
even after all this time
with all this great distance
it is a violence that wrenches free
dissociates, disembodies, a disease

A priori probability
is equivocated to
a posteriori where
the entropy of plaintext
equals the conditional entropy
of the plaintext given in the ciphertext C
you’ll begin to see
where I derailed the equation

All that I have is this legacy of ashes
an unbreakable code
shielding you from your crimes
infinite computing no adversary
for the tangled traumas
obscured in my mind

In a conventional symmetric
encryption algorithm
complex patterns of
substitutions and transpositions
these places dance
to orient me to the key
I see the risk

Data remanence is such
a continual problem
simplest overwrite technique
write the same data everywhere
(often just a pattern of zeros)
a way to be nothing
nullify feeling

Poetry is a cipher but
it isn’t known whether
there’s a cryptanalytic procedure
which can reverse these transmutations
mathematics may be my undoing
while I’m mourning what cannot be recovered
security continually assures me that this technique
is proven to provide the perfect secrecy

Linked to Mark Kerstetter’s excellent prompt on persona poems – join us http://dversepoets.com/2011/10/22/poetics-the-other

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Inside the Picture

Filed under: Art, History, Love, Tribute, Writing — 66 Comments
October 17, 2011
 
from The Color of Pomegranates

for Sayat Nova and Sergei Parajanov

Before the monastery in Haghbat
prior to the Persian invasion
and death’s black end
that finished my singing

I was the master of song
my love a passion overflowing
the vessel of our lives
birthing poetry

Harmony realized through
creative energy
my beloved books
become the tools of your seduction

Handmade poet’s lyre
turning the inlaid handle
tuning my instrument to your key
each strum upon the body
brings me closer
to the essential

You work the threads of my childhood
Its color and aroma
into the lace of your purity
through you I discover my grace

A gentle wind streams silk
I am the wandering nightingale
burning this white rose for you
water flows over stone
in the Turkish bath of my desire

‘I am careful with your mouth, you speak in fables…’

We players now imbibe love
skipping, drumming, whirling
as we empty our vessels

‘How am I to protect my wax-built castles of love
from the devouring heat of your fires?
You are fire, your dress is fire.
We were searching for a refuge for our love;
instead we found the land of the dead.’

Prodding the lion with a stick
the vultures eye orbs
life’s fragility a globe of glass
tossed in the air, harbinger of
midnight horses and animal hides
antlers and barren branches

Peacock drinks from your lips
muskets fire above your still breast
your death cements my longing
spurs me along the path
lined with stained rubies

The walls of the mausoleum
preserve the tattered ash
of my words
you exist only here, abandoning us
an encaustic imprint
of the dramaturgy of color

Memory shifts the frame of consuming passion
moves me with its rhythm
you wove the lace of death
its visage conceals my pain
your shells upon the black vase

Death obscures your almond eyes
I cannot recognize you
or see my image reflected within

The peacock cries in the window
I will follow you through the black door
though I am cloaked in your colors
I am forbidden to enter now –
blind to the source of my life
I wait for the Persians

‘Who took my mind? I did not see the magician.’

Sayat Nova was an Armenian poet/troubadour (1712-1795) born Harutyun Sayadian in Tiblisi. Sayat Nova means ‘master of song’. His wife, Marmar, died leaving him with their four children. He was killed during the Persian invasion. All quotes are translations of his poetry. Sergei Parajanov was a Soviet Armenian film director. His film The Color of Pomegranates is based on Sayadian’s life. He was banned from making cinema for 15 years following its release for putting aesthetic concerns over ideology.

Linked to dVerse Poets Pub an incredible online poetry community – if you want to join us please click here  http://dversepoets.com/2011/10/18/open-link-night-week-14/

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Collisions

Filed under: Personal — 57 Comments
October 12, 2011

In a windowed enclosure
protected from toxic fumes
encircled by the low hum of idling cars
a sound occasionally punctuated by
the grind of an old starter
I wait.

I’m trying to read Natasha Trethewey’s
Native Guard, listen with my inner ear
to the sorrow of sleeping through your death
intimated in her ‘Myth’ when
I’m startled by reality’s intrusion
as the long armed steel barrier
hits the thin walled enclosure
propelled by my car
here driven by the attendant
Thwack! be in the now!

She finds me, with frantic eyes
concern painted all over
seeping into the tiny crinkles of her young face
in her apology she intimates
I may want to strangle her
for the collision of steel
there’s violence in both acts.

I think: whatever for?
shocked by her suggestion of harm
accidents happen
(inner ear attuned to the echo of pain)
(flashes of memory)
if she knew me she’d know
I mean this.

She is tentative, contrite
shoulders hunched forward
and then a hoarse whisper
I have to lean in to hear her over
engines and customer chatter
perhaps punitive retribution is required?
no, I don’t want to speak to her boss.

With her livelihood at stake,
shaking from the impact
her form folds further inward
she is on the verge of tears
or flight, now louder ‘I am so sorry.’

And so am I –
how did we get to this place?
I’m not angry
I want to touch her,
assuage her fears,
to reach out and reassure her
and I’m standing so
close to make sure I can really hear.

But we’re in a box –
an employee and a customer
at Air Care Colorado
it’s 8:00 on a chilly morning:
is this done?

I decide to do it anyway,
to embrace her
she sighs, I sigh.

We both want the reassurance
that what separates us is so much smaller
than what connects us.

As I manage the details
we hug again
I hear nothing in that moment.

She thanks me for being human.
I am grateful to her for the opportunity
to share love and compassion
in the sacred space of our commonality,
amidst all the noise
surrounded by what could so easily kill us.

Written for a prompt Wordsmith Wednesday found here http://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2011/10/12/wordsmith-wednesday-sensory-description-hearing/

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Poïesis of the Soul: Death of the Imperium

Filed under: History, Philosophy — 46 Comments
October 11, 2011

Theoria

Imperium is the Latin root of empire
an aspiration to absolute universality
impetus and warrant to wage war, execute laws, expand

Conquest was deemed morally justified
bringing civilization and true religion
to grateful denizens of many Protectorates

Trialectical human geography reinforces social constructs
of core and periphery, defining privilege,
creating marginalization and the status quo
in an application of cultural hegemony

Geopolitics, nationalism, and globalization
reinforce power structures, fuel the use
of vindictive military force among
anathematically opposed world views

Poïesis

Consider the devolution of the dominant center
both within our own psyche and the structure of society
imagine migration with no demands for acculturation
that allows cultural exchange and hybridity

Exploration of the nature of Eros, born of Poverty and Resource,
reveals a lack of the good and beautiful merged
with intelligence and resourcefulness

Love is never possessing but always striving
‘poïesis in the soul through the cultivation of knowledge and virtue’*
a threshold occasion, a moment of transformation

Ecstasis, begetting and bringing forth the beautiful
averting the inevitable consequence of genocide, the legacy of imperium,
violence toward the other, born within fractured selves

A blooming of the blossom, the birth of eudaimonia
through the reconciliation of thought with matter and time
poïesis, the source and meaning of poetry

Praxis

Application begins with critical pedagogy
undergirded by radical democracy, feminism, and social justice
the learner as co-creator of knowledge

Envision post-nationalism where citizens gain
actualized, liberated personhood in a new space
a new humane geography

Dependent on difference
encompassing universally recognized human rights
true diplomacy, an accord, a détente
for our traumatized globe still revolving around the ideology of imperium

*Plato from The Symposium

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Aeternitas circumnavigates the inner landscape

Filed under: Philosophy — 60 Comments
October 8, 2011

sophia transmutes into
an encircling ethica
where intellectual and moral virtues
meld with ideal human excellence
to lure the harrowed psyche
into transformation

light years away celestial bodies spin

awe grips creativity
and art claims its home
raw, unhindered by the pettiness
of the projected self-image
encompassing vulnerability connecting
reinforces openness to experience

she refuses to feed their unmitigated desires

flourishing arête arrives
startling long held resistance
honoring that knowledge
creates a place in the world
a dwelling in sacred space

the fluttering self stills, quiets

through a stable structure of ideals
meaning shapes identity
provides the catalyst for growth
adventure and chaos spiral out renewing
interdependence arises out of
a matrix of intimate love

she binds the beings equidistant

freed from the imprisoning deontology,
its logical sequential march of language
flowing like the river to the sea
immutable and relentless,
release is obtained

wanderlust becomes a virtue

the authentic self, in all its multiplicity,
is liberated from the veil
a poisoned gown that sickens the soul
bloodied eyes bound in muslin
ablutions now wash clean the interstices

purification is not judgment, ritual is not dogma

a global self emerges
through dialogue in the liminal spaces
ecology of being blooms
the phoenix reminds us that
she who abides in fire is bliss
the only one living
without fear of consumption

ethics are forged with courage and character
Aeternitas in her magnanimity
charts the arc of eudaimonia

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Three little haiku

Filed under: Art, Philosophy — 62 Comments
October 6, 2011

SUUPAA FURAFFII (Super Fluffy) (c) 2004 Yumiko Kayukawa

SUUPAA FURAFFII (Hatsu Yuki)
for Yumiko Kayukawa

seal hunter polar
bear losing traction on ice
is human at home

Pan-Chan the Elephant by Chinatsu Ban

 Superflat Elephant Blues (Atsusa)
for Chinatsu Ban

piercing wit reveals
elephant sagacity
hidden enigma

Fight with Tako (c) 1999 by Aya Takano

 Survivor (Kasumi)
for Aya Takano

blue octopus ink
deimatic display acts
counter maneuvers

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Refusal to be cast as the observed

Filed under: Art, History, Personal, Philosophy, Tribute — 73 Comments
October 4, 2011

Refusal To Be Cast as the Observed 2008 18X24 Acrylic and Pigment Stick by Anna Montgomery

 for Camille Claudel

Mode de vie

‘Men have expelled you
from the world of symbols…’

born of the culture
knowing eyes ready
to absorb aesthetic influence
caught in gender’s ontological ruse
cast as muse

Le artiste (le future)

‘and yet they have given you names…’

Rodin’s model, mistress
influencer, collaborator
sculptor, painter, a creator
but never equal (non pair)

Le mûr age (fermeture)

‘They say the language you speak
is made up of signs that rightly speaking
designate what men have appropriated.’

poverty and obscurity
now cast out these are
your gifts from society
one that finds no place for
‘a revolt against nature:
a woman genius’
you work, you destroy
anger spirals inward

La fatalité (destinée)

‘They say the language you speak
is made up of words
that are killing you.’

committing you
doctor’s try to convince
Paul to let you out
he refers to you
in the past tense

lying in a communal grave
no one claims you

Camille Claudel public domain

Notes: Camille Claudel was a French sculptor and painter. Art critic Octave Mirbeau called her ‘a revolt against nature: a woman genius’. She was a genius destroyed by the concept of gender and her society. ‘Men have expelled you from the world of symbols and yet they have given you names . . . . They write, of their authority to accord names, that it goes back so far that the origin of language itself may be considered an act of authority emanating from those who dominate . . . they have attached a particular word to an object or a fact . . . . They say the language you speak is made up of words that are killing you. They say the language you speak is made up of signs that rightly speaking designate what men have appropriated.’ is from Les Guerilleres by radical French feminist Monique Wittig. Camille Claudel’s surviving masterpiece which dealt with the dissolution of her relationship with Auguste Rodin was called by several names: The Mature Age; The Destiny; the Way of Life; The Fate. After her break with Rodin she fell into poverty and obscurity. Her younger brother Paul had her wrongfully committed to a mental institution where she eventually died and was buried in a mass grave.

The Emplorer by Camille Claudel

Linked at dVerse Poets Pub for Open Link Night #12 – please join us http://dversepoets.com/2011/10/04/openlinknightweek-12/

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‘DOB’ wannabe drowns in hot banana fudge

Filed under: Art, Humor — 55 Comments
October 1, 2011

Linked to http://dversepoets.com/2011/10/01/dverse-poetics-pop-art/ prompt! Get your pop art on and join us!

DOB (art toy) by Anna Montgomery

Hot off the presses in Tokyo, Paris, Miami Beach
Aya Takano’s octopus (tako) fights
with a topless high heeled girl
to set the scene – what planet are we on?

A spaceship – last week she flew over a plane –
indigo intensity battling hot pink haute couture
while Hayao Miyazaki’s animation plays
background noise on High Def TV

Yoshitomo Nara’s dog slashes with a knife! through Takashi Murakami’s 727

Pop art snogs graffiti art
anime crashes into Japanese street culture
it’s all so surreal, post-modern hip now kiddies
Louis Vuitton claims kawaii (drop dead cute in Japanese!)

Too cool for school little girls
smoke cigarettes shouting through
pouting mouths ‘power to the punx!’
(adorning manga inspired canvases)

Feel the pain/kill the pain (squash it FLAT!) it’s all too much, it’s harmless!

A solid fist declaration of war for yourself!

Haunt it, flaunt it, kiss it, Kaikai Kiki Co Ltd. produce it!

Travel to outer space from your living room
build social capital, put bling on your phone
(get caught standing next to the giant boobs of Miss Ko!) 

Tan Tan Bo Puking high meets low (only $350,000 USD) let’s all have a go!

Kid Robot toy painted
pop icon DOB gets your head
S P I N N I N G
subculture hot house demands
Are you in the know?
Didn’t think so.

‘DOB’ backside (art toy) by Anna Montgomery

STEAL THIS POEM

To learn more about the superflat art movement (Japanese Pop Art) click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Superflat and to learn about Kaikai Kiki Co Ltd. (in English) click http://english.kaikaikiki.co.jp/whatskaikaikiki/ 

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Legacy of Ashes (A Training Manual)

Filed under: History, Philosophy — 32 Comments
September 28, 2011

Create central intelligence:
Project/protect the fantasy
invert, convert, digest, repeat.
Cull/scourge the weak
inject, reject, regurgitate, unleash.
Fashion/impassion your guerilla army
recruit, reboot, oppress, regress, shoot.

Pile/revile trash from here to anywhere
electrify, deny, decry, undermine.
Cash/opiates paid for secrets, insert in slot
spot, capitulate, insinuate, cast aside.
Pulp/whore up those lying spies
gravitate, emulate, identify, underlie, interrogate.

Glorify, espouse, glamorize, bind, scrawl, shape, strip, demoralize, characterize
shift, shout, torture, mobilize, calculate, indoctrinate, analyze, and strategize.

Whatever you do don’t learn the language.

Begin again:
Pick a spot on the map, set traps, rehash,
espy, cartography won’t lie, transmogrify,
redefine, carve ideologies, proselytize,
intimidate, obfuscate, in an endless loop.

Disinformation can withstand the facts.

‘We are what we repeatedly do.
Excellence, then, is not an act,
but a habit.’

Blame Aristotle.

For a thorough history of the CIA read Tim Weiner’s Legacy of Ashes http://www.amazon.com/Legacy-Ashes-History-Tim-Weiner/dp/038551445X

 

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he Thea (the Goddess)

Filed under: Mythology, Tribute — 60 Comments
September 27, 2011

for Velvetina Purrs (Thank you)
(this is not a retelling of myth but a new story, a flourish of poetic license)

for a long time now
(yet what are millennia to me?)
I, Athena, have wanted to sing you into being
garnering potency from introspection

the universe is expanding

spinning, weaving, my mantras
into a nascent song
I was born bloodied by the cleaving
fully formed Tritogeneia

the universe is expanding at an ever increasing rate

Metis, root of my strategic mind
my gifts of freedom raise civilizations
Atrytone, the unwearying, dianoia
as a long period comet reaches its aphelion

theou noesis (mind of god)

for a long time now
I have gathered the necessary cistrons
laid them before the axis from where
all beginnings arise at the base of my olive tree

Athena Parthénos in my aspect

I culled the Arctic Ocean, searched my Carina Nebula,
ground Himalayan salt, rang Buddhist bells,
bound pterodactyl wing bones with wolf fur
faceted padparadscha sapphires and stole Ayres’ Hinba
to merge with my vast dark within

parthenogenesis: incanting the ritual mysteries of your birth

daughter arise!
the first to fashion yourself
blue fire hair, Boulder opal eyes, glaukopis
art’s child, you see through iridescent irises

Nova Aetas

speaking you shift what is known, what is knowable
oh, olive branch, each leaf bearing my name
Athena Hygieial, healer
Aphaea, an invisibly numinous being
Altheonóa, ethonoe, en ethei noesin

defender of moral sagacity, flawless virtue,
a cunning intelligence, owl-woman reclaimed
your flight is a miracle of liberty!

clavis aurea, golden key to the future

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