I was scrolling through the blog's various filtering systems and was asked if my blog contained Adult Content. I thought, well, it contains intelligent, cynical, and loving comments... but I don't think that those are called Adult Content anymore. This turtle house blog doesn't really go on and on and on about various cunts and pricks I've met on Earth, so I guess it's not really Adult Content.
gosh, I still love the word Paradigm, - and there's nothing half as satisfying as a Paradigm Shift...but I'm fucked if many people reading the blog really know what it means, because, I guess, they're not Adults...
Friday, 7 June 2013
Last Poem for today, from about 1980 I guess: it's called Sunday
SUNDAY/ The Door-less Room
he sits in a room
where the walls tilt away in ratios
that he doesn't have ways to understand.
there is a window at the end of the room.
the window is half opened, half closed.
the room is white
with the warmth of a dwindling summer.
autumn's mercy is at the window.
a season of leaves.
brown small birds skid on air.
air ploughs, almost brown,
spirals into white warm song.
she is in the yard.
he senses the sound of her skirt
in the fading breeze.
among the leaves.
beyond the yard are ten thousand yards
beyond his thoughts
there are ten or twenty years
leading to the sea.
there are twenty seas ending on shores.
on the twentieth shore
there is a yard
in that autumn yard there is a window
behind that window
he sits in a room that seems to glow
the window is open now
and so he climbs out.
he sits in a room
where the walls tilt away in ratios
that he doesn't have ways to understand.
there is a window at the end of the room.
the window is half opened, half closed.
the room is white
with the warmth of a dwindling summer.
autumn's mercy is at the window.
a season of leaves.
brown small birds skid on air.
air ploughs, almost brown,
spirals into white warm song.
she is in the yard.
he senses the sound of her skirt
in the fading breeze.
among the leaves.
beyond the yard are ten thousand yards
beyond his thoughts
there are ten or twenty years
leading to the sea.
there are twenty seas ending on shores.
on the twentieth shore
there is a yard
in that autumn yard there is a window
behind that window
he sits in a room that seems to glow
the window is open now
and so he climbs out.
Brief Poem from an earlier 'semenal'(?) work: The Water Planet, published by SatCen Island Press around 1983, pretty much sums up the Journey of my PTSD
Don't Tell
................
Goodnight
He whispered into the senses.
Don't tell.
--------------------
I have found that for me, it's very hard to speak about the witnessed trauma, but I can carefully write about it. (For me, it's good to go back to the Reliable Latin Tongue rather than this Upstart Silly English Derivative Lingo-Nervosa Tongue
and to ask,
of all life's hidden,
desperate, secret memories:
Cui Bono? Who benefits"
(The phrase is a double dative construction. It is also rendered as cui prodest.)
--------------------
I have found that for me, it's very hard to speak about the witnessed trauma, but I can carefully write about it. (For me, it's good to go back to the Reliable Latin Tongue rather than this Upstart Silly English Derivative Lingo-Nervosa Tongue
and to ask,
of all life's hidden,
desperate, secret memories:
Cui Bono? Who benefits"
(The phrase is a double dative construction. It is also rendered as cui prodest.)
Kate Bush Wuthering Heights. AND WHY NOT? I had a brilliant beautiful girlfriend like that 30 years ago, but she wasn't dancing in a field so often, she was holding and swinging an axe at me most of the time.
It's My Way of Re-Traumatising Myself as Fit for the New Millennium.
Within You Without You- The Beatles
We were talking-about the space between us all
And the people-who hide themselves behind a wall of illusion
Never glimpse the truth-then it's far too late-when they pass away.
We were talking-about the love we all could share-when we find it
To try our best to hold it there-with our love
With our love-we could save the world-if they only knew.
Try to realize it's all within yourself
No-one else can make you change
And to see you're really only very small,
And life flows ON within you and without you.
We were talking-about the love that's gone so cold and the people,
Who gain the world and lose their soul-
They don't know-they can't see-are you one of them?
When you've seen beyond yourself-then you may find, peace of mind,
Is waiting there-
And the time will come when you see
we're all one, and life flows on within you and without you.
And the people-who hide themselves behind a wall of illusion
Never glimpse the truth-then it's far too late-when they pass away.
We were talking-about the love we all could share-when we find it
To try our best to hold it there-with our love
With our love-we could save the world-if they only knew.
Try to realize it's all within yourself
No-one else can make you change
And to see you're really only very small,
And life flows ON within you and without you.
We were talking-about the love that's gone so cold and the people,
Who gain the world and lose their soul-
They don't know-they can't see-are you one of them?
When you've seen beyond yourself-then you may find, peace of mind,
Is waiting there-
And the time will come when you see
we're all one, and life flows on within you and without you.
Circus Maximus in Sotto Voce
Circus Maximus in Sotto Voce
(sic transit gloria mundi in sotto voce)
There is room for many rides and stalls; there is room for the Buddha ride, the Jesus ride, the Allah ride, the Jehovah ride, The Shaman Ride, the Cult Ride, the Zen Ride (when someone just slaps you in the face repeatedly) the Atheist Ride (it's the shortest one, except for the Zen one) the Krishna Ride (it's the longest ride, but there is a Jagganatha involved and you can easily just get crushed under the wheels)), all there, and plenty more, among the Amusements in the Theme Park of the Self.
(sic transit gloria mundi in sotto voce)
There is room for many rides and stalls; there is room for the Buddha ride, the Jesus ride, the Allah ride, the Jehovah ride, The Shaman Ride, the Cult Ride, the Zen Ride (when someone just slaps you in the face repeatedly) the Atheist Ride (it's the shortest one, except for the Zen one) the Krishna Ride (it's the longest ride, but there is a Jagganatha involved and you can easily just get crushed under the wheels)), all there, and plenty more, among the Amusements in the Theme Park of the Self.
It travels around all the time, that Great and Mystical and Lovely Circus, but every now and then, some nights, you can see the lights from it when it comes to the outskirts of your town; and you will hear the most heavenly strands of music coming from it, so deep soft and warm in indolent sweet rhythms, so entraining, so purely human; and you know it's only a short barefoot walk in your cute and yet somehow daggy Zen pyjamas, from where you are right now.
A Fiercely Copyrighted Quote by John Fitzpatrick 2013.
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