Cumming of a Creed
What we need
Is the cumming of a creed:
A doctrine of divinity that
Shakes human from slumber:
Words of thunder
Instantaneous
To the strike of wonder:
There are no seconds to count
Between what comes forth:
And what comes fourth
Is always wonder,
Preceding
Curiosity, amazement, bafflement.
Wonder is the most common
Denominator amongst demigods
Such as ourselves.
Ourselves as barb ells
Of differing masses:
For we all possess
Sharp, measuring minds
With their own
Gravitational pull.
Impatience and
Low tolerance to time
Has left us lightwaits.
Forever abandon the now,
And start the next,
Forever.
Beginning next
This creed shall be of us,
By us,
For us,
In the Abrahamic tradition.
It shall encompass
Perfection,
And end compass
Directions.
It shall guide us astray
To the ashtrays
Of our minds
Where thoughts are pinched out
Embers
Laying in heaps
Of perceptual filters,
Yet shielding the Formica countertop
Of life
From collecting dust.
It shall explode
Explode
**EXPLODE**
Upon the Hiroshima
Of humdrum humanity,
And
The Nagasaki
Of dismal dailies.
It shall be a specter haunting. You erupt
27 years later
When the values
That vested you
Are vaporized off your body by
Napalm napalm napalm napalm napalm
During Vietnamese Kodak moments
That warp your face
Into Edvard Munch hallucinations
Of harrowing beauty.
It shall Socratically “WHY?” you
While you worry “why YOU?”
Until your ever present thoughts
Strip the Y U
From intellectual ubi-quity,
And you declare “I know nothing”
For the second time.
It shall deflower your comprehension
With Joycean oceans
Of cryptic cry,
And it won’t call the next day.
Or the next.
It shall be
Crowley
Circling above
The flower of truth,
Waiting to descend
Once “what thou wilt”
Wilts petals into wonder.
And word thunder
Will rumble
As long as
Tongues tumble,
And tongues tumble
All down to the bottom,
Because even this
Fall has an autumn.
Posted on April 13, 2012, in philosophy, poetry and tagged Alister Crowley, atomic bomb, Edvard Munch, Gettysburg Address, god, Holy Book, James Joyce, life, philosophy, poetry. Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.
WOW….BEAUTIFUL! Really. I love it and get it.
Hey – NPR is celbrating April “Poetry Month”. They’re excepting Tweet submissions of short (140 charecter) poems. If you want to check out, you can probably find the Tweet tag on their web site. It’s being run from one of their daily condicated programs, which i can’t remember the name of.
That be Cool; might check it out. Thanks!
Jesus christ, where did you come up with this?! Clutch poem, I think the rhythm to this is rad…almost rolling like the sound of drums! Seriously tarantula poem, thanks for posting this
Thank you Marco! I came up with this partly at my kitchen table and partly on my couch. Both locations are at aproximatly 41.6857 latitude and -81.6728 longitude. I really like “tarantula” as an adjective.
great rhyme 🙂