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The Break Down

This tile, “The Break Down,” can allude to an array of different topics and directions that this blog post can escape into. For instance, I could be talking about the importance of breakdowns in a piece of metal music. Or, I might be talking about mental collapse. Maybe I’m having car trouble…

Rather, I would like to “break down” my last post so that it doesn’t go largely misunderstood. Parts of it are incredibly esoteric and other parts are written in my own word codes. Hence, I feel it necessary to “break down” my word reasons in my last poem so that I don’t experience mental collapse and, consequently, break down. I’m still going to leave some parts of the poem unanswered – as one man said in the obscenity trial of Ginsberg’s Howl, “Poetry can’t be translated into prose. That is why it is poetry.” – but I do think that there are some inherent historical examples within the poem that need mentioning. This might be moderately conceited for me to do, but so it goes. So here is the poem, again, with the director commentary turned on:

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 (counting time between lightning and thunder)

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 (“barbs” are sharp – “ells” measure)

With their own

Gravitational pull. (the gravitational pull of an object depends on its mass)

Impatience and

Low tolerance to time

Has left us lightwaits. (one who does not like to wait)

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. (“…of the people, by the people, for the people…” is from the Gettysburg Address, spoken by “Abraham” Lincoln. I’m playing off the Christian, Jewish and Islamic Abrahamic traditions.   

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. (dropings of the atomic bombs in WWII)

It shall be a specter haunting. You erupt (Marx’s Communist Manifesto starts off, “There is a specter haunting Europe – the specter of communism.” Vietnam War was a war against Communists)

27 years later (amount of time between WWII and Vietnam War)

When the values

That vested you

Are vaporized off your body by

Napalm napalm napalm napalm napalm

During Vietnamese Kodak moments (famous picture of little girl with clothing burned off by napalm during the Vietnam War. Google “Vietnam napalm” and you’ll find it.)

That warp your face

Into Edvard Munch hallucinations (Edvard Munch painted “The Scream.” The facial expression in the painting looks similar to the faces in the napalm picture.)

Of harrowing beauty.

 

It shall Socratically “WHY?” you (Socratic method of asking “why?” repeatedly)

While you worry “why YOU?”

Until your ever present thoughts (“ever present” = ubiquitous)

Strip the Y U

From intellectual ubi-quity, (take away the Y and U, and your left with bi-quit. To quit twice.

And you declare “I know nothing” (quote attributed to Socrates)

For the second time.

 

It shall deflower your comprehension

With Joycean oceans (James Joyce used a lot of poetic codes and riddles in his writing)

Of cryptic cry,

And it won’t call the next day.

Or the next.

 

It shall be

Crowley (Aleister Crowley, but also an allusion of a circling crow of death)

Circling above

The flower of truth,

Waiting to descend

Once “what thou wilt” (“Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law” – Aleister Crowley)

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.

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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.

Open Letter to God

Dear God,

Could you please eradicate all the poverty and starvation in the world? I’m sick being guilted into donating to the food bank at the grocery store checkout.  While you’re at it, would you mind protecting the rainforest, saving the endangered animals, and abolishing war?  You see… I’m very busy with my own petty problems and can’t seem to find the time for such things.  I have to manage school and a job, pay bills, take care of my living, and still find time for fun.  Although, I guess if I stopped having fun I might be able to find time to help with one of these things.  Unfortunately God, the bigger problem is that I’m very lazy.  It’s not my fault.  This is how you made me – it’s your fault!

I’m sorry God, sometimes my human gets to me.  You understand.

Do I understand?  God, if you helped the poor, starving people, who will make my clothes, and where will American corporations outsource labor to cut costs and save their CEOs more money?  If you protect the forests, where would I build my house; and what about the houses of generations to come?  You and I both know the human population is expanding, and we need tropical resorts to escape to from our meaningless jobs as general contractors, or whatever we do.

God, why did you make the earth so small; or us so big?

God, this is serious stuff! Are you listening?  Are you even there?

On second thought… maybe I am God.  I’m talking to myself again.  Do I actually want these problems fixed, or am I just repeating the generic altruism of others around me?  Now I’m confused.  If I fixed these problems, wouldn’t it only create problems for myself and others in my rich, affluent society?  I guess this is the price we would have to pay.

But I’m comfortable where I’m at in the world.  Why don’t people just take care of their own problems instead of sitting on their asses all day collecting welfare checks?  COMMUNISTS!  Sucking at the government’s tits… raising my taxes… just for a free ride.  After all it’s them with the problem, not me, God damn it!

I really shouldn’t blasphemy myself like that.  After all, maybe I’m being too hard on the rest of the world.  It’s not their fault.  Whose fault is it?  Mine?  Is it anyone’s fault at all?

This is all quite unsettling.  If I want to solve the world’s vexing problems, I must create some problems of my own.  Or, I can bask in my comfort, and acknowledge that I don’t care enough about these injustices to do anything about them.  So far I’m not satisfied with either option.

 

Sincerely,

God