girl
in sleep - here she is
under the usual vine-drooped tree
using her finger-gun
to zap the moon
lost in the greens found in the garden
free
destroying scenes in
her mind w/
time - asleep
Monday, November 29, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Salad Daze Archives Unit 7 { 1979 }
how i managed to survive
why must these soggy hieroglyphs
always maintain the news
the murder of corpses
which i will almost always not commit
but you will
always maintain the news
as an imprint of your shape in the snow
- it is irrefutably October
why must these blood-soaked tabloids
screen us by restraint and speed of code
do we really need a media
to spill our beliefs like coffee on the paper
why must we distribute this pedigree
this blithering medley
of puberty and combat
why must these soggy hieroglyphs
always maintain the news
the murder of corpses
which i will almost always not commit
but you will
always maintain the news
as an imprint of your shape in the snow
- it is irrefutably October
why must these blood-soaked tabloids
screen us by restraint and speed of code
do we really need a media
to spill our beliefs like coffee on the paper
why must we distribute this pedigree
this blithering medley
of puberty and combat
Salad Daze Archives Unit 6 { 1996 }
aegri somnia
whose hand pulled down the anvil
onto this swarm of tiny heads
pressed the blade upon the rope
at null o'clock the toll is for each
onto the lip of abyss dancing
with a forgotten song
measurements crushed out or funnelled
flutter into these thundering furnaces
our step has no purchase here
amidst the rainbow industry seasons
sucked through the vortex of jagged teeth
whose hand pulled down the anvil
whose hand pulled down the anvil
onto this swarm of tiny heads
pressed the blade upon the rope
at null o'clock the toll is for each
onto the lip of abyss dancing
with a forgotten song
measurements crushed out or funnelled
flutter into these thundering furnaces
our step has no purchase here
amidst the rainbow industry seasons
sucked through the vortex of jagged teeth
whose hand pulled down the anvil
Salad Daze Archives Unit 5 { 1981 }
untitled
i lay here on top of a turtle
delivering postcards to friends in need
spying on the velvet teardrop reflections
my steering-wheel rots in my hands
i lay here on top of a sweater
containing a girl w/ no name
she smells like all the king's men
my steering-wheel rots in my hands
i lay here on top of a turtle
delivering postcards to friends in need
spying on the velvet teardrop reflections
my steering-wheel rots in my hands
i lay here on top of a sweater
containing a girl w/ no name
she smells like all the king's men
my steering-wheel rots in my hands
Salad Daze Archives Unit 4 { 2004 }
Oeufs a la Nietzsche Redux
Now, in the season of my darkest & most relentless misery, hear - my laughter!
None of these burdens amount to more than a numeral on a chart - once one has known enough, & has dared to learn enough. The fabled transcendence of mystic beliefs is yet another pretty clown in motley once one tastes the true wellspring, cold clear & pure!
Each new tragedy greets me like another persona in the grandiose & hilarious farce, bowing formally & casting its silk gauntlet of doom & contempt over my cheek, sickening parody of a lover's touch, yet with the power of my heritage & my spirit it is all null & void, a torment of trivia that I had seen marching to meet my life years in advance. More & worse comes - until surely I will laugh even longer!
Is this virtue or perversion, that I know the wild comedy that hides winking at me, even in this summer of agony & tears - & that I love it as truly as ever a gent loved his damsel? Not mere insight, but a truth that the living meat of my body proves, daily - this is the real moral of my life's berserk & baroque fable. Now, as a new realm of knowledge unfurls to me its flags, I meet it, wailing the lament of those who know - yet in my heart do I not hear - a giggle?
Each of my new selves has held this mystery to me like a violently writhing Orchid - & I bless & thank the enigma that confuses me so!
Look - a strange shadow rises over the horizon, a new adventure calls to the free of spirit, no mere siren but a theme beyond music's own spectrum - come, come! Here too is beauty's true chorus, strong, wild & priceless - dare to lift your best voice to it anew!
Now, do I not find in these days of darkness & torment - my convalescence? Ah, but from where else could I discover my Dawning? Was not my wild journey to this hour a mere prelude? With every new Aeon, another & more cruel set of laws is brought to bear - for freedom also delights in itself where it has had enslavement to - misplace!
Listen - there is a new & alien aesthetic that rumbles like thunder in its strange quickening - the noontide of its nativity draws nigh, & we all placidly doze on like sated drunkards, heedless of the imminent detonation that this birth will produce.
Our history is our most delicious irony, a limerick limned in children's blood, presented for the ungentle talons of academics - is it any wonder our society is so skilled at "reinventing" itself, with such a vast & impressive love - for spiritual crime?
I am a mere herald of the sacred lexicon that is being forged on the anvil of time, whispering like a pretty girl in my too-ticklish ear - ha, ha! "Beloved child of a mad age, you can yet find me so endearing, when you know how I love to see the sparks dance in your helpless soul as you harvest - your tempering! If I cannot yet destroy you, I can still make of you - my bell! Here is your glorious education - what? Do I dream awake? "You can give thanks - now? Even the gods must grow dizzy & gasp at such brazen rebellion, even while they guffaw! "This is your trial, rare & divine : "Not to learn what you most passionately yearn to discover, but that which you most dreaded to find!"
O whimsical future-daughter, you too are a naïve beauty, for all your nascent wisdom - for my true trial has not even begun!
Then & only then will my scales - slumber!
Salad Daze Archives Unit 3 { 2005 }
for Saint Catherine
the Wheel bears down
every year a new trial
the Wheel grinds fine
firy nemesis of denial
the Wheel sings out
its ballad of doom & nativity
the Wheel dances laughing
mad jester of eros & tragedy
the Wheel comes alive
without prelude or reason
the Wheel bears down
to inspire romance & treason
the Wheel bears down
every year a new trial
the Wheel grinds fine
firy nemesis of denial
the Wheel sings out
its ballad of doom & nativity
the Wheel dances laughing
mad jester of eros & tragedy
the Wheel comes alive
without prelude or reason
the Wheel bears down
to inspire romance & treason
Salad Daze Archives Unit 2 { 1997 }
VI. Urania
you glimpse my wild children's infinity
their firy dying sends you its delight
beyond all ages far away & free
brought to nerves of spirit with each night
here are more than planets stars or moon
within my sphere mystery laughs complete
you wait for daylight's fall to end
the wheel of beauty turns here
this is how time's spheres ring
this map no voyageur can ever fathom
i claim the nation of wishes
the portraits of mythic lore alive
in constellations many & delicious
i let the ambrosial whimsy thrive
here are measures beyond every scale
of silence's heavy cosmic scheme
below my playground all gasp & smile
the flickering meteor a moment's icon
this is the cold sweet art of astronomy
bend this to the sprouting seasons
you prime this field of liberties
their guidance firm from tiny gems of light
in this all ages may somehow seize
this craft by which a heart finds flight
you glimpse my wild children's infinity
their firy dying sends you its delight
beyond all ages far away & free
brought to nerves of spirit with each night
here are more than planets stars or moon
within my sphere mystery laughs complete
you wait for daylight's fall to end
the wheel of beauty turns here
this is how time's spheres ring
this map no voyageur can ever fathom
i claim the nation of wishes
the portraits of mythic lore alive
in constellations many & delicious
i let the ambrosial whimsy thrive
here are measures beyond every scale
of silence's heavy cosmic scheme
below my playground all gasp & smile
the flickering meteor a moment's icon
this is the cold sweet art of astronomy
bend this to the sprouting seasons
you prime this field of liberties
their guidance firm from tiny gems of light
in this all ages may somehow seize
this craft by which a heart finds flight
Salad Daze Archives Unit 1 { circa 1988 }
telegraphy
the current set is in crisis stop accelerating entropy creates terrible crisis amid a darkening putrid apathy no positive and non-destructive catalyst has yet risen and survived against this stop burning away membranes shredding into the very marrow of biosphere stop this is a full alert stop every act that opposes it co-opted and subverted from within a myriad of absurd mundane prisons a reich of convenient pupa consumption stop make more devour more waste more destroy more kill more a macabre cult of paradigm of trivia of hate stop its wiles can seduce and rule any opponent can obliterate every single last known living thing ultimate evil victory over
the diorama is in grave peril readjust now stop primary priority readjust society stop readjust economies stop readjust value ethics stop readjust goal and motive dynamic stop readjust spirit stop readjust against all nonhelpful technology now stop the timeframe means that this is the supreme code against that which oppresses everything alive stop this is a real emergency over and out
the current set is in crisis stop accelerating entropy creates terrible crisis amid a darkening putrid apathy no positive and non-destructive catalyst has yet risen and survived against this stop burning away membranes shredding into the very marrow of biosphere stop this is a full alert stop every act that opposes it co-opted and subverted from within a myriad of absurd mundane prisons a reich of convenient pupa consumption stop make more devour more waste more destroy more kill more a macabre cult of paradigm of trivia of hate stop its wiles can seduce and rule any opponent can obliterate every single last known living thing ultimate evil victory over
the diorama is in grave peril readjust now stop primary priority readjust society stop readjust economies stop readjust value ethics stop readjust goal and motive dynamic stop readjust spirit stop readjust against all nonhelpful technology now stop the timeframe means that this is the supreme code against that which oppresses everything alive stop this is a real emergency over and out
Friday, November 12, 2010
Op-Ed From The Valley Of The Shadow Of Death
I find myself increasingly convinced that what nutrition & sanitation were to the 19th Century or technology was to the 20th Century, mental hygiene will be to the 21st Century: the central factor that defines the age. With it comes endurance, intelligence & such security as can be had in the real world. Without it, the human project has very dim future prospects. Every other issue that challenges humanity is utterly dependant upon it, many of them having its deficit as their direct source - & our solutions will succeed or fail based on it.
The present context as regards this issue is horrific. Our response to an increasingly complex society is dysfunctional (no surprise - we're simply not adapted to our present environment, which is anomalous in the extreme, & its rate of change is far beyond our ability to keep up). That dysfunctional response itself isn't the real problem - the problem is our eagerness to rationalize it, avoid it &/or treat it as if it were sacred. The pricetag for that dysfunction becomes ever more heinous as our technological power continues to expand ... & unfortunately our Zeitgeist grows more dysfunctional as a result of the damage done, closing a very lethal feedback loop.
Our sacred cows have rabies, & our imaginary friends are about to kill us in our sleep.
We continue to indulge institutional untruth & folly at our peril. We have long ceased to have the luxury of either the time or the resources to spend alternately excusing or glamorizing psychopathology. Neil Postman's "Amusing Ourselves To Death" looks daily more & more like a prophecy. The perversity of the situation is that we now have global networks that inform us in real-time of just how steep a price we're paying for our ongoing orgy of stupidity - & that very information itself is being instantaneously reified into just another form of entertainment with which to distract us ... from itself. Disaster-porn, Mass-Murderer Trading Cards & boffo comedies about the collapse of civilization aren't just ironic - they're alarm-bells. Our response is to strenuously pretend that those alarm-bells are a lullaby.
It took us thousands of years to sleepwalk all the way to the edge of this cliff. We were given a reprieve from going over it in 1989. Sadly, Gorbachev did not give us a magic formula for replicating it, so I think if we want another one we'll have to make it ourselves from scratch.
The present context as regards this issue is horrific. Our response to an increasingly complex society is dysfunctional (no surprise - we're simply not adapted to our present environment, which is anomalous in the extreme, & its rate of change is far beyond our ability to keep up). That dysfunctional response itself isn't the real problem - the problem is our eagerness to rationalize it, avoid it &/or treat it as if it were sacred. The pricetag for that dysfunction becomes ever more heinous as our technological power continues to expand ... & unfortunately our Zeitgeist grows more dysfunctional as a result of the damage done, closing a very lethal feedback loop.
Our sacred cows have rabies, & our imaginary friends are about to kill us in our sleep.
We continue to indulge institutional untruth & folly at our peril. We have long ceased to have the luxury of either the time or the resources to spend alternately excusing or glamorizing psychopathology. Neil Postman's "Amusing Ourselves To Death" looks daily more & more like a prophecy. The perversity of the situation is that we now have global networks that inform us in real-time of just how steep a price we're paying for our ongoing orgy of stupidity - & that very information itself is being instantaneously reified into just another form of entertainment with which to distract us ... from itself. Disaster-porn, Mass-Murderer Trading Cards & boffo comedies about the collapse of civilization aren't just ironic - they're alarm-bells. Our response is to strenuously pretend that those alarm-bells are a lullaby.
It took us thousands of years to sleepwalk all the way to the edge of this cliff. We were given a reprieve from going over it in 1989. Sadly, Gorbachev did not give us a magic formula for replicating it, so I think if we want another one we'll have to make it ourselves from scratch.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Oh, Those Wacky Americans!
Miller will be airing his final ad today, warning Alaskans to only drink distilled water & malt liquor lest the cabal of media communists sap & impurify their precious bodily fluids in order to weaken their essence.
The moderate Republican conservatism that once gave America such premier public servants as Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt & Dwight Eisenhower is sadly long gone, sacrificed decades ago on the altar of ideological purity. The bizarre cargo-cult of superstition, spite & hubris that has taken its place would be funny if it weren't so dangerous.
Eight years of Bush re-confirmed the conservatives' deficit of civic aptitude that Reagan exemplified before him, & vastly exceeded even Reagan's breathtaking scale of waste, cronyism & criminality. The GOP gaining a House majority in 2010 will conclusively put to rest any remaining rumors of their ability to govern or provide functional real-world solutions once & for all.
The Republicans hijacked America in 2000 during good times, with Clinton's surplus & a booming global economy on their side ... & in 2010 America has yet to recover from the damage done. Now imagine what level of destruction they can create by re-enacting Gingrich's 1990s stonewalling style in a BAD economy, with a titanic deficit to start with instead of a surplus.
That horrible sound you hear?
That's Lincoln's ghost, dry-heaving.
(note: this is actually nothing more than some glob of dipshit-bait which I knowingly deposited on a thread at newsvine.com)
The moderate Republican conservatism that once gave America such premier public servants as Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt & Dwight Eisenhower is sadly long gone, sacrificed decades ago on the altar of ideological purity. The bizarre cargo-cult of superstition, spite & hubris that has taken its place would be funny if it weren't so dangerous.
Eight years of Bush re-confirmed the conservatives' deficit of civic aptitude that Reagan exemplified before him, & vastly exceeded even Reagan's breathtaking scale of waste, cronyism & criminality. The GOP gaining a House majority in 2010 will conclusively put to rest any remaining rumors of their ability to govern or provide functional real-world solutions once & for all.
The Republicans hijacked America in 2000 during good times, with Clinton's surplus & a booming global economy on their side ... & in 2010 America has yet to recover from the damage done. Now imagine what level of destruction they can create by re-enacting Gingrich's 1990s stonewalling style in a BAD economy, with a titanic deficit to start with instead of a surplus.
That horrible sound you hear?
That's Lincoln's ghost, dry-heaving.
(note: this is actually nothing more than some glob of dipshit-bait which I knowingly deposited on a thread at newsvine.com)
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