NeoplasM
Poetry has nowhere left to go
And nothing else to do other than
Transcend itself, which first off
Requires comprehension of oneself.
Lazy be the cells of any bard
Who sells out to the know-it-
alls dwelling in their ivory towers;
Academic shackles bind the mind!
Those ledger heads would have us
Take a street fight indoors
Where orderlies could constrain
The activities of each brain.
Bukowski believed in the RAW.
Nothing wrong with how he saw
Although much needs to be said
About a well done prime rib 'proem'.
An empty stomach grumbles
From forced fast on Fury Road.
Our ornery engine roars and rumbles
Dead do walk, as crow has crowed.
Outgrowth spawning sprawling tendrils~
Innate protoplasmic insight reassembles
Some semblance of emblematic ascendance—
Causing such a consternation, that even holy heaven trembles!
NeoplasM
PleonasM
PleonasM
Long time no write
This site out of sight
The Nous grew silent
Which in retro sounds right?
The struggle continues
Nagual knows that it's REAL
But something ETHEREAL
Yet tangible waits on us to feel...
Beyond creative explosions
Destructive emotions
Treks through trials then commotions
Life meets death with {{convulsions}}
Still the fight is worthwhile &
Stakes are far too high to ignore.
Organic existence is just one aisle
That our Consciousness must explore.
Posterity will bear out this work's value;
Polished gems always outclass any hullabaloo.
Pretentious labels get attached to such a lofty purview cause
Perfection is offensive to mere mortals who envy you, cuz!
On The Warpath
On The Warpath
We will consecrate this act of war
With the flesh of gods and
Ambrosia; Nectar of Immortality!
Another eclipse approaches —
A brutal battle encroaches...
The enemy hears our tenebrific chant:
Mortis Invictus
Terror Forever!
Vicious, vile, Ars vindictive
Yes such power is addictive
It lays waste to the edifice
Of orderly artifice
(In every way unpredicted)
Chaotic convulsions carry on
Death doth rattle
Open maw; give us MORE!
Grimace foul ghoul
Facing abject defeat
May you learn before parting
With whom not to compete.
Pigs pale | next to princely elite
But beware the court Fool
Because sometimes suddenly
A hidden king is revealed
Then any shield shall yield
To that psychic sword he will wield
All foes fear his fierce horrific rant:
Mortis Invictus
Tyrant Forever!
Purgatorial Blues
Out of fire
Low on pith
The moment has fled
Judgement was swift
And this damned demon groans
From rock bottom of the pit
Figurative Filaments
Figurative Filaments
In the theater of things sublime
Pilose players and pithy pipes combine.
Metonymy may mollify a meaningless mind
As apes at nature's apex art realigned.
...
Footnote:
Come now ghost of Samson — let us grow our hair of strength —
What wondrous shimmering shalt be shown in its length?
Weird yet wild antenna attuned to hardwired wisdom;
Unleashed by shaman's shout from inner shrine to outer serfdom!
The Tempest Persists
Yet not taking any chances equals wasted lives
Get caught in the squall at least once before you die!
Tempus Fugit, we expire before knowing it
Blasts from the blizzard only rattle us a bit
Don't take shit lying low nor do idly sit
Life may be a struggle, but that's no excuse to quit!
Hover over heady heights of hurricane funnel
Rock the boat gripping left and right gunnel
Force your way toward rays beyond this tunnel
Come hither monsoon—grow a river from this trickling runnel!
Coda:
Shipwrecked islander try
Not becoming lamentably blind
Pry third eye
Wide open to luster
Lying beneath shallow waves
How they tint our perception with such subtle shades...
Bask in sun until dry
Pineal cones and rods decalcified
Awry state rectified
Blow back against bluster
Showing resistance to being effaced
Heaven Ho; windstorm's course has been wholly retraced...
The Inexorable Laws of Jinx (Introduction)
Here by leave of the most supernal ones ever to exist are laid forth—for the benefit of unfortunate mortals—these Inexorable Laws of Jinx...
[since of course the fortune of any single individual within the greater whole differs greatly from every other entity].
Say What?
The superstitious whisper their beliefs about Major High Jinx without actually understanding its dynamic mechanics. Therefore their assumptions amount to naught but foolish gimmicks. Let us set the record straight then:
Jinx is neither good luck nor bad luck. It's rather neutral luck but may serve any incarnate being if they can suss out how to surf upon swells of sheer improbability.
Jinx isn't altogether male nor female but either or, as suits any momentary purpose. Genderless Jinx runs throughout spacetime weaving both particles and waves when observed by someone sentient. By the same token, Jinx is & are interchangeably plural plus singular.
Jinx be neither here nor there — atemporal quasi-space is their conduit. Being nowhere in particular grants Jinx omnipresence among temporal affairs.
Their masks are myriad in appearance; multifarious in finite form. Many host Jinx without even knowing it; an apparent blight — a disguised blessing!
Come Again?
Jinx could also be referred to as The Devil's Luck and can be tapped into by a Thaumaturge irregardless of sex. In other words, those skilled with sympathetic Magick (of whatever shade). But beware, court jesters and mages are closely related. The Fool is player as well as played. However, the Grand Game must never be named!
Synchronicity, the uncanny, and stark irony are all side-effects of Jinx in action. Their endless variety constitutes the selfsame spice of life (Varietas Delectat). Jinx stacks random odds in favor of, or against whomsoever lives according to their own Consciousness x Karma combined (more about this equation later on). First though, oblations are in order. Pay thy respects before proceeding:
Hail High Jinx in all their permutations upon these ephemeral material spheres!
Hallowed be High Jinx among we mere mortals who wish for fortuitous changes!
May High Jinx forestall the untimely collapse of our unique universe!
History Repeats
History Repeats
Alter your behavior
Else be bent through thought control
As you flirt with grim disaster
In their twisted game of minds
This whole world is mired in words
Too much faith is staked on lies
Come September and it'll be last year
History repeats itself — History repeats!
The towers are coming down
During commercial-break distractions
Can anyone justify such actions?
Can we even make peace anymore?
Cause never ready for indignity
Our ignorance runs rampant
Buck naked in broad daylight
Deja-Vu served up with all the trimmings
An anchorman cracks under pressure
Exhausted by the laws
Of a mute and idle GOD
Martyrs broken by his truancy
So light your lantern in this darkness
Prepare a pyre for the funeral
May you be reborn
Bright as the skies' celestial eyes
Because History repeats itself —
History repeats...
Charlemagne by Guest Bard Kerin Gedge
Today's poetical history lesson comes to us courtesy of Kerin Gedge. Check out his project: The Vocabuverse.
Kerin Gedge, a projectionist coping with the lack of much to do when his
Employer went digital years ago, decided to use his downtime to
rewrite the English Dictionary as poetry (mainly because he'd always
wanted to read it but frankly found it boring). Recently made redundant thanks to technology, Kerin lives in New Zealand and is exploring career options in between writing The Vocabuverse as well as
being a full time Dad!
There was a king called Charlemagne
Charles the first also his name
King of the Franks in seven sixty eight
Later on a King in Italy
Remembered throughout history
By his designation: Charles the Great!
Since in the West Rome’s Empire fell
The books about those days do tell
He was the first in three whole centuries
To bear the title “Emperor”,
And Holy Roman Emperor,
Crowned so by Pope Leo number three.
After fall of Roman Empire
He was the first king to acquire
Most of Western Europe in his grasp
Which he ruled for thirteen years
Until he left earth’s mortal sphere
In eight one four when alas he breathed his last.
Paradigmatic
Paradigmatic
Rough around the edges
Round rhymes for square wedges
Hidden away behind thick hedges
Produced as memory dredges
Double-crossed by disloyal pledges
Innocent of anything anyone alleges
Stays unfazed if hit with sledges
Hope it hangs from highest ledges
Like streamlined arrows given fledges ↣
Ça suffit — close up your ledgers!
Over-Rhyme:
Imagination rarely stretches
What a poor price knowing fetches
Even learning barely etches
Credible or discernible sketches.
Ass Appeal
Ass Appeal
Lust and libido lock down logic
Perversions preeminently pedagogic
"Dat ass" runs crowd control
Doubly dynamic and droll
Booty bounce vexes both sexes
Making some more ambidextrous
Naughty Illuminati hottie
Exploits blind minds with tight body
Rear end rhapsody
Defying gravity through depravity
At either end of the spectrum
Society has its head up a rectum
Addendum:
Scarlet woman; whore of Babylon?
(Too much ado about butts)
Religious prudes ramble on
The rest say: "Hooray For Sluts!"
The Whirlwind Cometh
Your bones are first to tell you
When a hurly-burly approaches
Then mind becomes restless
Making long nights sleepless
For as the wind intensifies
From silent draft to violent gust
You'll soon know what you must
Swept off your feet; to Oz or bust
After that, everything's transformed:
Awestruck witness within eye of storm
Amid drastic departure from old norm
But don't despair—one's heart defies
Although no amount of preparation
Can preempt such devastation
Brought about by fateful precipitation
Thou shalt act as winged ones do ...
Coda:
Eagle fly by
Leaving crop circles behind
Yes fly by
Sprinkling moon dust
On this ignorant race
So that they won't go to waste.
Cyclone hasten nigh
Loosen whatever bonds bind
Yea draw nigh
There's no superior rush
For surface dwellers debased
Fill us within, lest we be erased!
The Heart Sutra (Special Edition w/ Podcast)
When Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva was practicing
the profound Prajna Paramita,
he investigated and perceived the five Skandhas (heaps)
and saw that they were all non-existent,
thus securing his deliverance from all suffering and difficulty:
"Shariputra, form does not differ from emptiness;
emptiness does not differ from form.
Form itself is emptiness; emptiness itself is form.
So too are feeling, cognition, mental function
and consciousness in relation to emptiness.
Shariputra, all dharmas are
empty of characteristics.
They are not created, not annihilated,
not impure, not pure,
and they neither increase nor decrease.
Therefore, in emptiness there is no form,
feeling, cognition, mental function, or consciousness;
no eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and mind;
no sights, sounds, smells, taste, touch, and ideas;
no field of the eyes, up to and including
no field of mind-consciousness,
and no ignorance or ending of ignorance,
up to and including no old age and death,
or ending of old age and death.
There are no Four Noble Truths, no wisdom and no gain.
Because nothing is gained, the Bodhisattva,
through reliance on Prajna Paramita,
has no hindrances in his heart.
Because there is no hindrance, he is not afraid,
is free from contrary and delusive ideas
and attains the Final Nirvana.
All Buddhas of the past, present and future
attain enlightenment through reliance on Prajna Paramita.
Therefore, know that Prajna Paramita
is a great spiritual mantra,
a great bright mantra, a supreme mantra,
an unequalled mantra!
It can remove all suffering; it is genuine and not false.
That is why the mantra of Prajna Paramita was first spoken."
Recite it thus:
Bluegrass and Shoplifting by Guest Bard JD DeHart
Bluegrass and Shoplifting
During the summer, there was a face
that would become familiar one day while other faces
screamed to be ignored. The hammer dulcimer
made its sound and the beard on stage sang
a song about a lost truck in the woods.
She listened for a bit before going “shopping”.
She paused when the siren alarm went off,
yet was always allowed to pass with the CD in her purse
(a collection of late 90’s music - a soundtrack).
She ate some seaweed not because it was enjoyable,
but because it was eccentric; then sped
along narrow country roads like a NASCAR driver,
careening disastrously all the way home!
Dice And Dominoes
Come observe it here at the borders of oblivion
The inexhaustible march of man's temporal parade
Whether Alexander, Constantine or Khan
Every conqueror contributed commonalities
Causality, consistency, conflicts, consequences.
Most men are low denomination dominoes
Simple pushovers that fall into formation
Bowing beneath the oppressive weight of history
Unquestioning participants for social experiments
Where inherent rules work against hard workers.
Yet although they be few, some roll like dice
Chancers clutching onto fine strands of probability
Fewer still are they who luck out and hit the jackpot
Of discovery or innovation—advancing civilization
Thinkers and tinkerers; Tesla, Turing, Elon Musk?
Argue against them (if you feel you must)
But only such visionaries see a shot clearly
Before taking it and hence leaping far ahead
Leaving the rest of us playing in a kid's sandbox
Forming a fortress settlement upon faulty sediment.
So which will you be:
Remembered by virtue of distinction?
Forgotten among these aimless masses?
Or overcome (frozen stiff with indecision)?
Tiles fall flat, but cognize: every toss revives a die!
* Except on Wall of Worthies – whereon rights are retained by respective authors.