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Category Archives: Poetry

Truth leads to Untruth, Untruth leads to Truth.

The path and way of being, particularly human being, flows like this.
This is one of the most general notions that can be spoken about the Essence and Destiny of Man.

Truth leads to Untruth, Untruth to Truth.

Man is that organic process, that creatively ordered flux.

Man stands before the Cosmos a small frail being. Its incomprehensibility equal to its spatial scope. He almost drowns in the abyss of the Unknown.
Yet in the depths of this incomprehensible blackness, a light emerges.

Consciousness born. Man’s essence, like the tree, who rises and strives towards Sol, Man reaches for the light in Mind. And as the tree does not only rise up, so does it also descend.

And just as the seed had to incubate in the darkness before it could sprout, so Man also.

Being at one with the heights and the depths. Being at home in them and also a home for them.

Man, fearless only when he grasps his own oblivion.

For a dawn grows out from every darkness.
And Man is that Dawning.

Man is forever a Dawn and a dawning. And it takes time for this to dawn upon him.

solitudinus

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Graceful as dancer’s arabesque and bow,
Our lives appear serene and without stress,
A gentle dance around pure nothingness
To which we sacrifice the here and now.

Our dreams are lovely and our game is bright,
So finely tuned, with many artful turns,
But deep beneath the tranquil surface burns
Longing for blood, barbarity, and night.

Freely our life revolves, and every breath
Is free as air, we live so playfully,
But secretly we crave reality:
Begetting, birth, and suffering, and death.

– Hesse (Glass Bead Game, p. 431)

In your room,
On a couch I sit with you.
I, on one side.
You, on the other.

This cushion that lies between us,
This symbol, this cushion that makes
My heart heavy from a love no longer
Allowed to give of itself.

What was once surmountable,
Be it an hour, a minute,
A street, city or country
Now seems hopeless.

All that lies between us…
A cushion,
Has the power to burden my heart.
And even if you unfold,
Resting your head on my lap,
And I, caressing your head,
Run my fingers through your hair…

Even with this my heart is not at ease.
This heaviness bearable only
Because it stems from love,
From understanding.

You may give your body,
But is that love?
To how many have you given that?
And in return how much real love
Has come to be?

“… If you love me and I don’t love you, what will you do? Even physically. You might say how terrible, you might get depressed, and all the rest of it – it’s all self-centred [By self-centred, what is meant is, a limited, ego-centric view that isolates and separates by carrying past experiences, likes and dislikes, into the present distorting and twisting reality in the attempt to ensure invulnerability, safety]. I live with that self-centred activity, that’s my life. And how will he [the one who loves] convey it to me? Because he has that intelligence, compassion, love, he has communication with me, he sees my degeneracy, my conflicts, my misery, all that. I can’t see it. All that he says to me is, ‘Please listen to what I have to say.’ ‘Take time, look at it, let’s examine it.’ He’s pointing out to me. Either I go with him or not. Right, sir? That’s the actual fact.”

– Krishnamurti (To Be Human)

Or, in my own words, “Please, come meet me. Let’s go into it, let’s get to the bottom, let’s go through it together. Come meet me half-way.’ In short, please love me, let us expose our egotistical thoughts and fears…let us face our past and let it nourish us. Like the Ouroboros let us devour what has been and grow, be wholesome, from its continual disgestion and integration.

solitudinus

The destitute landscape of mind
Lies before seeking eyes.

As the rising sun
Slowly illuminates:
This barbarous land;
When the light
Continues to age,
Out of the firmament
Of our thoughtlessness
Arises the attitude,
The quality
Of thought-fullness.

But before command is taken:
The inverted mount awaits devotion.
Serpentine struggles,
Through its shivering roaring river.

While the soul slowly awakens
The mystic image appears,
Dangling just out of grasp.
This hazy apparition, unfathomable.
As if hidden below the surface
Of a dark and brooding current.

But as the twilight
Begins to fade:
The eyes behold–
The majestic symbol.
The breathing,
Many-faced,
Sphere,
Sphere of…

 

 

solitudinus

What is this Fire burning brightly,
this upward floating freely?

What is this crisp dry Air,
that makes everything easy to bare?

What is this Water smoothly flowing,
that ease of downward going?

What is this Earth fixed and certain,
this hardiness at the final curtain?

The Cyclic dance is growing,
Our oneness in circle is flowing.

 

solitudinus

Our soular movement
Creates our gravity
From traced infinity
In the planetary realms
Of intangible existence.

This gestation period
Before our true beauty
Can blossom forth into
Multi-dimensional creation.

Our musical dance
Of soular grace
Into the wordlessness
Of truth.

solitudinus

The barren landscape of mind
Lies before vast eyes.
As the rising sun
Slowly illuminates:
The desolate wasteland.
And when the light
Continues to age
Out of the firmament
Of thoughtlessness
Arises the diagram,
The edifice
Of thoughtfulness.

Before command is taken
The inverted mount
Awaits devotion,
Serpentine struggles
Through its shivering roaring river.
On either side dips,
Dips the hands of music and math.
While the soul slowly awakens
This mystic image appears
Dangling just out of grasp
This hazy apparition, unfathomable
As if below the surface
The surface of a tearing torrent
And as the meandering mist
Vacates this vision
Eyes beholding
The majestic symbol;
The breathing,
Multi-coloured
Many-faced
Sphere,
Sphere of…

 

solitudinus

Having planted my feet in richly tiled soil
I feel my toes dig into the depths
Reaching, curling; almost one,
The firm foundation solid in form.
Allowing the rising arms to imagine a cross
Upon which I verily embrace the unnameable.
The heart levitates into the right eye,
While the mind slithers into the left.
O! what a bloody war consumes
Erupts,spews forth the froth of Death!
The cowering, shrivelled boy Lets Go!
Heart and mind pierce upwards “I accept my Fate”!
The weight lifted; gravity nullified
Now having become an awakening man
I bounce between Intimidation and Anger
Until once again upright with a new
Support dancing in earthly reason.
My fate becomes My Destiny
While my consciousness gradually takes to flight
Into the unknown I will make known.
I hold the line tight as a bridge
Concepts slowly blur into surreal imagination
As swirling wind through through the Eye!

solitdinus

I hold my hands in view of my eyes
And am pleased with their immaculatness.
I have kept them from hard labour and danger.
My eyes then flow up my perfect arms,
To my flawless chest, where left bare on my breast
Lies my yawning mint condition heart,
Who has never had to step up the pace,
Nor burn vigorously during this sitting
And observing life I’ve created for myself.
And never once has mine eye shed a tear,
Or let anyone see into their unfathomable depths,
So gradually they’ve shriveled and turned inward
To seek, what was at birth a paradisaical mind,
And find, lo and behold, an ideally deserted
Shell of a brain; dried and crumbling.
And this is how I stand through life,
For I have yet to learn how to walk,
Run, climb, dance and am definitely
No where near flight!

solitudinus

My poetry is dead
point-blank to the head
where i fell to my bed
and cover the sheets in dark red

witha smile on my face
everyone screams
everyone dreams
never to achieve grace

i was heaven sent
but the faces were black and bent
to hell i fell
never to hear the bell

all were right; treated all wrong
nothing soothed but the beer bong
all the mens faces trapped in thongs
all the women trying to belong

worked hard to get my bread
then i saw the children needing fed
so i got a gun and fled
and now i rest on my bed, red….

solitudinus