In Absentia

In Absentia

What else is an Anti-Poem

Apart from a conspicuously absent

P O E T ?

Any other definition pales by comparison

And rapidly devolves into teleological complexity.

For it's the absence of agency that gives such automatic writing

Its characteristic conjunction of internal monologue wed to external function.

Doesn't rhyming just grind your gears? Yet we must continue despite dysfunction...

Consider it a vocational hazard or simply a byproduct

Of leaning into measured meter.

Half the time not even trying

Then suddenly it's a three act play at local _______.

Jeer if you will but the show must go on still as gnashing teeth

Bare to grin their chagrin.

Keep your hands behind the railings

It's a gamble when you're all in.

These baskets aren't about to weave themselves—

By the way, what's the point again?

AWOL balls to the wall; fine featherless friend!

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Anathematic

Anathematic

The Academy could never cage

Such a singular bird as THIS ONE.

Wait a minute and hear us out before running away, will ya?

Give the thinker-soldier-tailor half a chance to spin his yarn...

Espy with thine own little eye:

The know-it-all experts each have a blindside

To them we represent a broad Generalist rebirth;

Our Flagship sails forth from an unsanctioned port of berth.

Autodidactic tactic oft redacted

But since at any rate, too few pence are ever earned

Let's then leverage what we've learned

And turn it against those whom would sell said knowledge back to us

A credit at a time whilst worldly wisdom is bought up by another wealthy white Trust.

Here hollers that voice midst the hinterlands

Where ideals still dwell amongst stellar stretches

And sleepers dream deep along with both Piscean fishes ♓️

Secured at their center via subtle ~ astral ~ tether ~

So dispense thy nickel and dime in this well—to fulfill ambitious wishes!

Author's Note: If you enjoyed this piece then you may want to read its poetic predecessor: Paradigmatic.

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Anomalous

Anomalous

No nation can claim the Self-named

For none have proven worthy

Of the glory that they

Profess to possess.

Always been ahead of the pack

But nobody notices anymore

Because we aren't in

A classical setting.

This conduit has been cleared

Though its purpose mightn't 

Be fulfilled in one lifetime;

Age of ignoramus runs fright'd.

Abominable Great Northern Yeti

Ought to recognize when his

Backyard thaws to become

Not unlike the Serengeti.

Three underscores trace progress:

1. Atavists struggling to uphold.
2. Iconoclasts tear down ye old.
3. Hybrid strain of Power untold...

Further Readings:

Asomatous

Rhizomatous

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Dactyls & Diphthongs

Dactyls & Diphthongs

Actions speak louder than words.

Nonetheless – Poetry – is word in action:

Apple of discord rolls onto floorboard...

Either side of a wide divide claims an axiom.

 

A story untold since storied days of old;

Æther off Emerald Tablets

Breathing out beautiful worlds.

Neither wealth nor fools' gold can ford first+final /Fold/

Let's tune it down a key or two.

How'd that song go again?

Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!

Rerunning boob tube lines, which hold us forever fain.

Artistry isn't lost (though many can't glean this gloss).

{Eagle-cum-mockingbird | comes across cuckoo too}

Thus we must thaw like the permafrost to find

♠Ace♠ in the moss hid from view.

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Minefield of Meanings

Minefield of Meanings

Watch your step:

There's no real right way

To speak about Poesy

Yet somehow it also happens

There are plenty of wrong ways!

Both lector and pupil

Say one thing, meanwhile

Mental and sentimental

Versifiers become divergent;

Their writs misunderstood by gen. public.

These subspecies chant lyric

Only amongst themselves

As do birds of a feather flocking

Together—before excluding any Other.

Think 'synchronized swarm of swallows'.

In this life we all want to be first

In line. Not left behind

Hence each of us breaks off a piece

Hoping that during days to come

Inspired implosions may eventually remind...

A foot soldier trudged fearlessly

Through hostile nobody lands

To tactfully detonate charges

Whose explosive echoes vibrate

Across Akasha's supernal field!

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Reams

- I -

Is there a pulse there? Or are you lost within screens?

Reality SCREAMS to be heard above the buzz of superficial visions and manufactured dreams. 

Meanwhile oblivious observers are wading through streams. This whole time every one's third eye flickers and gleams. We must escape these extremes...

- II -

Quit your allegiance to all those useless sports teams. Protest against any repressive regimes.

Use rhymes for much more than petty personal schemes. Deconstruct our overarching and underlying themes. Refine Self like a diamond cut by laser beams.

Do you hear that? The tea kettle steams. Now to hell with social media's basic bitch memes!

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Stank Culture

Foreword: In case this abstruse Anti-Poem makes you feel like an old Boomer since you can't catch its many references, then you may want to read this helpful glossary chez: Cosmopolitan.

---

Stank Culture

Your cool couture is CANCELLED

Distressed worse than a damsel.

Best get out of the house

Decompress and delouse.

Casting shade but not sorry

Youth's just part of the story.

Here today, gone tomorrow

Who'll Stan by your late show?

Look—these locals are pissed

U & mutuals have dissed

Stressed them out with spilt tea;

Skinny legend? Guilty plea!

Trendy slang gets 'snatched'

Here for sh-nacks, duly stashed...

:P~

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Highest Uncommon Numerator

Highest Uncommon Numerator

You may be a divider

But hither comes the indivisible...

Their pop cult's painfully obvious

[ True occult is near invisible ]

Mainstream tropes are tired and through

Whereas these here types are off the charts!

You can have the world's dough;

Some prefer to keep their smarts.

Vacuous—vainglorious

That's what the kids would rather be

Though neither boisterous nor notorious

Works too well with ℜoyal we.

For the full scope which we profess

Warrants writing out a Wiki™.

One can do lots more with less

Yet such simplicity turns tricky.

Dwarf, elf, vampire, werewolf or zombie?

Fictional fodder from the same family tree!

Hollywood hokum lies not deep at their core.

While the smarties among us find it all quite a snore—

*zzz*

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Thirsty Thyrsus

Thirsty Thyrsus

Hey ἙPMH∑ [Hermes]!

Drop the caduceus

Pick up brother Bacchus

Bartender please beer us

It's time to get raucous

Err day 365 we invite:

ABPAΞA∑ [Abraxas]

&

MEIΘPA∑ [Mithras]

Comboozelated cathexis

From dawn 'til the sun sets

Rocking riffs off rad axes

None on par with our tactics

Death is sure as are taxes

Drain thy goblet and flex thus:

Assemble attention at solar plexus

Dionysian Will, to Apollonian Nexus!

Hear It Read Aloud by the Author:

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Smorgasbord of Slogans

Smorgasbord of Slogans

According to the 'pro-filers'

You're either this, or a that

Nervous *tic*

Trifling gnat

Whose twitchy feelers

Appeal only to deaf ears

ADHD of sketchy dealers

Here's a tit for your tat

Feather tip for top hat:

~ Flow with ALL and adapt ~

Avoid any word-defilers;

Those sophistical Mephistos

Whom the philistine adores

Out of sorts behind closed doors

Many Hamlets | Few Horatios

Add missing line for compilers

Mix eye of newt with wing of bat

Freestyle skit becomes scat

Caught your tongue now kitty cat!

Hear It Read Aloud by the Author:

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Bounce Back Rate

Bounce Back Rate

Leaving so soon?

But you only just got here!

C'mon now, give us a chance

To show off our fancy frills...

If you don't stick around

You may never discover

Mind-boggling paradoxes

And tongue-twisting thrills with

Turns of pedantic phraseology

Here comes a prime example:

70% of those who came before

Backed out daunted by doubts

But you're not like them are you?

Stick around until the deed is done

Good things wait for those who come.

That may seem like a fine place to stop

Though isn't it great when a song dies down

Then suddenly resurges for a final STOMP?!

You might not know it but Poetry knows you

You'll probably miss us as we bid thee adieu

"Bounce back boo — nothing else left to do!"

Come on back soon, ya heard?

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Pandemic Dream Theater

Pandemic Dream Theater

The one where you're walking through the park with some random C-list celebrity that you normally don't even think about. Yet here they are, explaining life's great mysteries to you (more or less in your own words), while pushing around a cart full crap like a homeless person.

Or perhaps you find yourself in what appears to be North Korea, where jets drop deafening bombs on the mountainside, which shoot up tall geysers of dust that hang in the air for almost a minute. Then the Grand Matriarch arrives with her retinue of ladies and proceeds to publicly humiliate you in front of your friends and fellow tourists. You can't understand a word they're saying — but their meaning is made quite clear by the lash of bamboo against your bare back!

Elsewhere at another time, you're hanging a painting in an atelier when lo and behold, a pesky ex with whom you haven't had sex in many years walks in. They just stand there with a smug expression, which you do your best to ignore as you finish what you're doing. However, when they're about to leave, you can't help asking: 

"Excuse me, but have you gotten taller?"

"No, but I have gotten a lot richer!"

Your family (who've been sitting off to the side on some sofas the whole time) finds this very amusing and laughs loudly at your predicament. So you follow your old flame out the door and soon discover that they're in the middle of filming a movie somewhere nearby. You get offered a bit-part, which you accept. But since you outshine the other starlets in the studio — the director kicks you off set! Next thing you know, you're in an alleyway smoking joints with another out of work actor and reminiscing about your short-lived cinematic career.

Finally, there's that dream you dare not speak of for fear it may come true... A chartered bus comes to your neighborhood at the crack of dawn. Everyone's confused regarding what's going on, but both you and your neighbors are effectively herded onto the Greyhound by military men in black tactical attire.

A little later, you're all led single-file into what looks to be a factory facility. During the shuffle, you end up budding in front of your closest neighbor. Once inside, it soon becomes evident that this is no ordinary warehouse. You can hear the industrial whir of metal in the distance, although it's coupled with bloodcurdling death cries. These unnerving sounds only get louder while everybody winds down the corridors of a concrete labyrinth. Your palms begin to sweat and your heart pounds because sure enough, as you round the penultimate corner, blood splatters against the wall!

There's no escape; the guards make sure of it. The poor sucker in front of you tries to run but gets thrown into the abattoir against his will. The noise is sickening. Knowing that your fate is sealed, you turn to your neighbor with a shit-eating grin on your face and ask:

"So, do you want your spot back?"

You shrug off the guards and voluntarily step forward (legs trembling) into the buzzing blades — white light engulfs your senses —

* WIDE AWAKE *

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Slalom!

Slalom!

The style guide of tomorrow
Isn't the same as today's.

Try to keep up slo-mo

Or we shall have to part ways.

Being at the center

Listen for gaps in between ———

The artsy and the ritzy can be hard to tell apart.

Let's meet somewhere in the middle.

Go ahead, get a head start...

Oh hi again, how you been?

Air's quite keen from here on out.

Now like a washed up itsy-bitsy, we're winding wildly down spring's *spout*

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Conative Causation

Conative Causation


Let's rewind to primary times
Returning and rooting out rhymes —

Chaotic patterns such as ours
Are sensitive to initial conditions.
Conclusions always allude
To their own origin story.

Anyway, as Aldous asked:
Where are we off to in a big hurry?
We're progressing toward what, exactly?
These questions bear repeating.

So quit your sanctimonious bleating.
Holier than thou? You wish bro!
Seriously though, you're mistaken;
Taken in by the miscellany of modernity.

This pagan priest will now hear your confession.
Consider yourself free from imaginary salvation
(An Ankh isn't an unwarranted concession),
But back to the basics poor pilgrim...

The Material Causes here may be many
While any Formal Cause = quite antithetical.
This piece's Efficient Cause is redefining language
But its Final Cause advances stanzas ¡[parenthetical]!

Image: Illustration of the Four Aristotelian Causes.

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Gnosis Through Osmosis

Gnosis Through Osmosis


The keys of the kingdom are given unto YOU
Who listen and read, then think these thoughts through...

It may sound quite clunky/data dumpy/name droppy
But those that follow the flow will soon be deep in-the-know.

Not talking about this little puzzle piece, since it's merely a signpost.
Seek and ye shall find reason within rhyme, written by a ghost.

It's also essential selfless style gets recognized as referential.
From there we can move onto matters a lot more existential.

Whether in Codex, Tantra, or contemporary Tome — Lunacy is the point always driven home.
Terrestrial life is terribly sublunar; let's accelerate our pace and ascend even sooner!


Over-Rhyme:

Out here sailing on his schooner.
Singing softly (olden crooner).
Perfect pitch — who needs a tuner?
Without mistake | adept harpooner.
Higher than any hot-air ballooner.
Living lovingly like a honeymooner... ☾

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Re-fix

Re-fix


React against inertial forces

Realign energy vortexes

Rearticulate ageless phrases


Rebuff untoward advances

Reconstruct deconstructed nuances

Redress any inherent imbalances


Reengage reader's mental faculties

Reform grammatical casualties

Regenerate like crab apple trees


Reintegrate the least of these

Rejuvenate tamed inner beast

Release pheasants for hunt and feast


Remorse isn't worth dwelling on

Renovate; evaluate pro & con

Reorient the Western canon


Repetitio Est Mater Studiorum

Requisite knowledge stumps all but some

Resolution makes such depths easier to plumb


Retrain senses thence cleanse lenses

Reuse outdated references

Revise whatever the tense is


Rewired synapses sing grand symphonies

Reword what was first heard from aborigines

Rewrite old scripts to grant grand epiphanies...

Image: A pheasant in flight may symbolize abundance and creativity.

Hear It Read Aloud by the Author:

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Power Clown

WARNING: This piece is a poetic play-by-play of Warner Bros. Joker and contains SPOILERS.

"In such a [carnivalesque] system the king is the clown. He is elected by all the people and is mocked by all the people. He is abused a beaten when the time of his reign is over, just as the carnival dummy of winter or of the dying year is mocked, beaten, torn to pieces, burned or drowned. They are 'gay monsters'. The clown was first disguised as a king, but once his reign ended his costume was changed, 'travestied', to turn once more into a clown. The abuse and thrashing are equivalent to a change of costume, to a metamorphosis. Abuse reveals the other, true face of the abused, it tears off his disguise and mask. It is the king's uncrowning.

Abuse is death, it is former youth transformed into old age, the living body turned into a corpse. It is the 'mirror of comedy' reflecting that which must die a historic death. But in this system death is followed by regeneration, by the new year, new youth, a new spring. Therefore, abuse is followed by praise; they are two aspects of one world, each with its own body." ~ Mikhail Bakhtin

---

Power Clown


Crying clown
Here comes another
Beat down

Broken and devastated
The norm is torn apart—

Today, smother your mother
Tomorrow, eat the rich
Then each other.

Upturned frown
Here comes the
Power Clown

Reborn an Archon of anarchy

Chaos reigns his dark carnival

The Fool is a King dressed in jest
Amid revolutionary protest!

Yet this would seem a ploy for Slavoj Žižek to foil

Or could our court Jester be a Lord from an outer reach of southwester?

Further Readings:

Rambling About Rabelais

The Fool Forever

Comedy, Divine?

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Rambling About Rabelais

``Here is a dimension in which thrashing and abuse are not a personal chastisement but are symbolic actions directed at something on a higher level, at the king. This is the popular-festive system of images, which is most clearly expressed in carnival (but, of course, not in carnival alone). In this dimension, as previously pointed out, the kitchen and the battle meet and cross each other in the image of the rent body. At the time of Rabelais these images were still alive and full of meaning in various forms of folk entertainments as well as in literature.`` | Mikhail Bakhtin

---

Rambling About Rabelais


He was breaking down the fourth wall well before they were even finished putting it up...

Arguably nobody else has ever equaled his grandiloquence; past plus present company included.

Polyglot and polymath — what isn't measured by your staff? Aye there is no doubt — we can all ways count on him for a good laugh!

Même si nous te entendu
Le monde n'a t'a jamais compris
(Excusez-moi mais Français c'est ma troisième langue)
Lingua Ovid autem quartus

These carnivalesque tall tales weren`t so much stories about their larger than life characters like Gargantua & Pantagruel—as the pages of these texts themselves were the ever sprawling unfurling and unraveling bodies of said gigantesque literary figures.

Equally the oft bucolic provincialism evinced by the changing accents in which his characters speak among one another offer us a stained glass window`s peek into Enlightenment Era France.

Furthermore, Francois was a pioneer in the field of potty humor. The body itself speaks in burps, farts, squealing innards, and other bodily functions such as excretion of feces or urination. Sexual congress was no less off the reservation in his contextual consideration.

So say a hooray for Rabelais, that prodigious eater of creamy cakes topped with fresh grapes! First Thelemite, he makes no mistakes. Thy abbey remains thirsty until True Will finally wakes and slakes the likes of us sullen under lunar lakes or when the Earth herself suddenly quakes...

Image: Panurge Emerges ^^British Museum

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Urbane Combat

"For personal reasons, the Anti-Poet is a sniper. He fights for the same cause, but with a totally different technique. He does not declaim the soldier Poet, but supports him from afar, although his method may seem ambiguous." ~ Nicanor Parra (1914-2018)

* Author's Note: The proceeding is a poetic sequel to this previous piece > Trench Trap.

---

Urbane Combat

Pinned down

Between

Readerly Lane

And

Writerly Way.

Our assault

On The Base

Is stymied

By its Superstructure.

Rejection slips

Surefire as grenades

Render silent

Valiant voices.


The advance guard

Betrayed us

Mission Imperative updated

Æsthetic regrouping.


Got bookish agent

In the crosshairs

But rival choppers

From Major Publishers

Drop manuscripts overhead!

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Ariose Argot

Ariose Argot


{ Sacred Errata }

META on META

Download digitized data

distilled from The Fountain ≋


Blessed be by such masters

as Roque Dalton and Parra.

Navigate brave new era

a la Columbus—arrive in error!


Hey, you ever listen to Tool?

It's a trippy tangle of terror...

Take a look at the mirror,

reach inside if you dare.


Qualis, non Quantus

Ever since Atlantis

Mankind preys like a mantis

reascend The Holy Mountain ^

Images: [Top] Scene from The Fountain (2006), [Bottom] Scene from The Holy Mountain (1973).

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