Friday, July 28, 2006

To Meaning

We smoked tea on the shore and saw the sentience
Of irascible tomorrows, where eternity became
Our golden souls. There was no you or me, but
An emptiness of Him because everything is bliss.

Stop. Sit. Listen to the womb of your being
Pull you back to the cave and away from your
Light thought. You can’t go home because
Home is where paintings are judged by ear.

There is no lyricism now, only the ghost of –
Miles Davis playing with eternity on his eyelids,
and that was just “atoms of dust,” becoming what
everything is, so listen to some Jazz and fill your night.

And be sure to inhale the ethereal flower of passionate hearts
but don’t let the burden of working youth crush you under
Chiffoniers built by dullards for Jesus and golf. I imagined you said,
Under the purple sky: "Shiva without Shakti is Shava." And so it is.

Seeking a non-linear exposition where experience coalesces
With thought. There’s a position that inertia can be cosmically
Interlocked with volition. And so it is. The golden ecstasy
Of meeting and being to a point of transcendent realization.

Be kind. Be true. Do what you want. Even in your dreams,
Lest the sky cracks to golden rings eroding senseless mysteries
Of earth bound blood. Embrace delirious pearl intelligence
And freedom of thought. It is guaranteed life in the void.

A wise man once said – after he drank fifty beers at the
Imperial Café, passed out wrapped around the loo, was shit and
Pissed upon by forty people until he was caked in human excrement –
“What difference does it make after all? --
anonymity in the world of men is better than fame in heaven,
for what's heaven? What's earth? All in the mind.”

I call it eternity, brother. What do you call it?


Blogger Inkblot said...

call it lightheaded nirvana...or full bodied freedom perhaps?

high brow
low life

like it.

8:48 AM  
Blogger bismuth said...

ah, to be free. free from self doubt and selfish men.

12:01 PM  
Blogger bert moth said...

inkblot - Just snacking on a pear...

bismuth - Yes. Self-possession is a grand thing. It can certainly be displayed another way, but shit happens *cringe*.

10:58 PM  
Blogger angel said...

And to think I just stumbled into this blog today...
I look forward to more.

12:49 AM  
Blogger Prerona said...

u take nothing and weave so much lyricism out of it ... how do you do it, i wonder ...

beautifully written

3:59 PM  
Blogger GEL said...

I need to read on Hindi mythology b/c in my neck of the woods "shiva" is a grieving ritual...

I will return when I have looked up enough info to understand your post. For now, I still enjoyed your awesome writing!
P.S. I tried posting my voice on this new blog...

8:47 AM  
Blogger Jon Cox said...

I call it Hevan! WONDERFUL POST!!! I love thet way your write, very well done! :o) Thank you so much for visiting my blog & for your comment, I'm glad you like the giraffe! :o) I'm glad I compared the heights of Abe & the giraffe. Thank you so much!!!! :o)

1:57 PM  
Blogger bert moth said...

angel - Glad you dropped in. Come by anytime.

prerona - Thanks. Whatever I read and like gets internalized. This was a result of getting Kerouaced.

**silvermOOn** - Could be just me babbling.

The phrase you're referring to has a number of translations and meanings. As I understand it, it means "every person is god."

I'll definitely check out that reading you posted.

jon - Thanks. Viewing Abe with the 6'10'' giraffe was a spectacle.

8:55 PM  

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