_____ DISSOLUTION _____
Silently they lie like icebergs
_____ in a black and frozen sea.
Moving endlessly to nowhere
_____ on waves of turmoil
__________ they occasionally touch ––
Only to crash together in rumbling torment
_____ a parody of intimacy ––
__________ to split, shatter and destroy.
And when on rare, divine days
_____ a ray of warmth
__________ penetrates the chill damp
They melt –– grateful –– yielding –– unafraid
Only to slip back into the prison
_____ of the black and frozen sea ––
Formless –– and without identity.
~ Nulland Voyde (1933-1974)
I am the sea...
ReplyDeleteSomething like that –– really a parable of what life has become like in the Modern and post-Modern eras.
ReplyDeleteThat music you cited reflects the emptiness, bleakness, and aura of hopelessness most try to deny they are feeling, –– an evocation of the Shriek of Despair most struggle to suppress every waking moment –– probably because they have just enough sensibility left to want to avoid frightening the children before the poor little things are left behind and forced to face The Hungering Void by themselves.
This is the dreary legacy left us by more than a half-century of Sex, Drugs and Rock 'n Roll.
_________ An Ironic Truth _________
ReplyDeleteCawing, yapping, droning everywhere,
Enrapt with Unreality they're blind.
Looking blankly into space they grind
Loose lips ludicrously in mid air.
Packets clasped to ears their elbows bend,
Holding haplessly to each connection ––
Oblivious to tangible affection.
Nothing could this misdirection end,
Except the advent of a cataclysm ––
Annihilating new ways warped and curled ––
Built denying truths the catechism
Used to keep our wayward notions furled ––
Stifling acts and impulses towards schism ––
Enabling more delight in Nature's world.
~ FreeThinke
___ COULD IT BE ___
ReplyDeleteCould it be
We need our fantasies
And fond illusions
More than we need
Mundane reality?
Did ancient astronauts
Visit Earth aeons ago,
Plant Colonies - perform
Wondrous Feats of Engineering
Still unexplained?
The eternal Mystery of
The Pyramids - The Sphinx
Stonehenge - Gigantic Chalk Figures,
Discernible only from great heights -
Easter Island - Machu Pichu?
The Origin of Man -
The miracles of Music -
Painting - Sculpture -
Poetry and Thought.
The Star of Bethlehem -
The Virgin Birth - The Magi -
Betrayal, Death and Resurrection?
Patterns of Migration?
Courtship Rituals?
Attachment - Dependency -
Illness - Abandonment -
Grief - Tedium -
Decline - Decay -
The eternal Search
For Acceptance - Appreciation -
Affection - Understanding -
ESCAPE!
~ FreeThinke
Could it be
ReplyDeleteWe need our fantasies
And fond illusions
More than we need
Mundane reality?
:p
FJ,
DeleteI'm sure that we do!
I can only repeat what I told you when that item first appeared at your place, FJ. My position on these convoluted attempts to give a mathematically measured, "scientific" interpretation of mystical wonders is not apt to change.
DeleteI must confess a sorry fact.
I comprehend not the Abstract.
And though today it is the fashion,
I have for it no hint of passion.
If you think this makes me stupid,
I might just concur with you, kid,
For, Alas! I am no Euclid!
~ FreeThinke
};^)>
Since Einstein assured us that "imagination is more important than knowledge" –– a premise with which I heartily concur ––, it stands to reason that all the advances we've made since The Beginning started in the Imagination of some unusual person who felt the urge to See Beyond the Mundane conditions of his time.
DeleteI think often of Thornton Wilder's Stage Manager in Our Town who was asked by Emily, who had died in childbirth, but was allowed to return to earth to relive her sixteenth birthday, "Doesn't anyone ever realize how wonderful life on earth is while they're alive?"
His answer never fails to give me goose bumps.
"Only the saints and poets, they do some," he told her.
"The kernel of reality is horror, horror of the Real, and what constitutes reality is the minimum of idealization the subject needs in order to sustain the Real" - Slavoj Zizek (1997)
ReplyDelete"The real supports the phantasy, the phantasy protects the real"- Jacques Lacan (1979)
I read it was 122 degrees F in Antarctica today.
ReplyDelete___________ On the Floe ___________
DeleteThe sun is setting in the east these days.
The north pole traveled southward long ago.
The penguins in the tropics now wear leis.
The roses in the tundra sweetly blow.
The tides receding come in nevermore.
The geese now migrate from the south to north.
The ocean vast is nothing now but shore.
The semen towards the egg will not come forth.
Negativity we worship now as god.
Perversity is wholesome; Virtue’s vile.
Normality’s regarded now as odd.
Whatever’s queer is welcomed with a smile.
Darkness has become the Guiding Light.
To stay alive we dare not fight the Blight.
~ FreeThinke
Chilling! :)
ReplyDeleteJMJ
It is, indeed, Jesey. That was the idea. Fortunately, there's a great deal more to ,ice than the transitory moods one captures in poetry now and then.
DeleteLife is like a kaleidoscope –– always beautiful, but ever changing.
Unfortunately for me, right now it is just ban painful...
DeleteJMJ
I am sorry, ol' buddy. Wish I could help.
DeleteYou do. In all sorts of ways. ;)
DeleteJMJ
That's very good of you to say, Jersey. I'm touched.
DeleteGod bless!
Frigid! ��
ReplyDeleteI have little doubt that you must be exactly that, Anonymous. |;^)>
DeleteHere we find my friend Emily in one of her rare whimsical moods addressing the month of March. Take enough time, please, to savor her words. I've always found it worth the effort.
ReplyDeleteDear March –– Come in ––
How glad I am ––
I hoped for you before ––
Put down your Hat ––
You must have walked ––
How out of Breath you are ––
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest ––
Did you leave Nature well ––
Oh March, Come right upstairs with me ––
I have so much to tell ––
I got your Letter, and the Birds ––
The Maples never knew that you were coming ––
I declare –– how Red their Faces grew ––
But March, forgive me ––
And all those Hills you left for me to Hue ––
There was no Purple suitable ––
You took it all with you ––
Who knocks? That April ––
Lock the Door ––
I will not be pursued ––
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied ––
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come
That blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame ––
This poem is in the public domain.
~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)