Erotic

O, how this spring of love resembleth
Th’ uncertain glory of an April day,
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away!

Shakespeare, Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act I, scene 3, line 84.

Before Creation, Eros was,
primal Being of Eternal Love,
before the dark and the light,
before there was fight or flight
Love was all there ever was:
always loyal, never gone astray
never rejecting ever accepting,
Eros was free, abundant, whole.
But Eros was, although blissful,
quite alone.

And although this great Being.
was by itself, it finally thought:
I am now two: myself and my thoughts;
my thinking of Love and Love itself.
How much more beautiful it would be
if I could create a master puzzle of Me,
where a trillion thoughts fall as rain
together mixing glimpses of earth,
slivers of sky, nighttime, daytime,
creatures living what they’re thinking,
whether the body is gone or still alive.

the Great Cosmos will it be so named
and all the creatures will adore it
as they live held in thoughts of Mine.
But in order for them to remember
how to live inside my Love’s splendor,
I will give them each two separate hearts:
an invisible heart who sings only in Love
and a visible one, the rhythm of their life.

All will be gifted bright eyes three or more
that they might see Me in every corner,
in every face, in every eye, in every song,
they will be reminded of who they are,
their Love, a tiny light as if before the eye,
that will see them through the darker times,
lest they forget that they are born of Me,
of the Love that only the hidden eye can see.

And so this how we play this cosmic game,
you begin to seek for whom you’re named,
shedding this name crooked, that name false,
abandoning ideas that you once called your faults
until you finally see that you are not created,
that you are neither lower earth nor upper sky,
neither sun nor moon, nor falling star’s lullaby:
that you are not a creature who’s designed to die
but that you are simply only Me and my thoughts.

and so that is the game, the play that is this life,
the theater of Shakespeare was exactly right,
if you run amok in thoughts despairing or of pain
you will repeat that dark fantasy again and again
until you finally see, in joy, relief, and humility,
that those clouds were to challenge Love’s eternity
and all your life here is just Your Love’s playful dream,
your death, an illusion, the Joker in your final scene.

Yes

I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

Every action is an affirmation of that action.
Every step is a Yes to where you are going
and a Yes to what you are leaving behind.

You are always being the creative Yes
With every step you create a sound and a vision
and your words are magical spells that resound.

Your emotions are an affirmation of your emotions.
Your anger is a Yes to anger.
Your kindness becomes a salve for enraged pity

You choose to be in a certain way because you say Yes to it.
You think it is a complaint, but you are just playing a role,
an actor in a stage play, you enjoy the troubled characters.
You sing the songs of tragedy so that you may keep the tragedy,
and you blame others for causing what the song despairs.

There is a light in darkness that you cannot now see,
and so you believe there is no such thing as the light.
for Mickey Mouse didn’t believe anything either,
for Mickey Mouse has no consciousness to believe
and you pretend to be a cartoon character that is drawn,
not a human being who always chooses what is Yes.

Sexuality: Truth or Fame?

 

Jesus replied, “Even if I testify about Myself, My testimony is valid, because I know where I came from and where I am going. But you do not know where I came from or where I am going. You judge according to flesh. I judge no one.

 

John 8:15

Poetry as Sexual Spells.There are certain poems whose words are not meant to be heard for their clever composition. They are instead symbols, like hieroglyphics, which, in their spellings, transmit an energy meant to be felt and recreated again and again upon each reading. Poetry, like music, is the art of spells and incantations and love-making. What does poetry and music wish to achieve? It wishes of course to find another to receive it, so that it might enter the other for self replication. This pursuit is as the nature of life and love itself. Union, replication, procreation, recreation, reincarnation: it doesn’t matter whether the poet/musician is still alive or long passed, the listener who resonates with the energy of the composer’s spells will receive that energy as a recognized force of consciousness. That energy which moves through the listener is palpable and powerful. And as a song is transmitted within the soul of the listener and welcomed there, it’s seeds are planted, to someday perhaps germinate into similar offspring.

Transmutation of Sexual Energy. The transference and recreation of energy over time and space is not to be confused with the temporal energetic emotional state and lusts of lovers. Emotional expression cannot alone carry itself beyond the moment of its expression. Lust is no match for unconditional divine love. Its end is quick, unstable, and unsubtle. Unconditional love, on the other hand, is a creative energy, an energy of consciousness that transforms a sudden outburst of tears into the tragedy of humanity, the longing of a young man or woman into the eternal quest for union with the beloved, the pain of death into the Iliad. There is a certain divine grace inherent in this divine love, for it saves us from being utterly consumed by what is by itself self-annihilating.

Canines.The general population experiences their sexuality as a physical experience like eating food or drinking. This is why the general population does not have an impact beyond temporal creation. From dust they arise and to dust they return. Still some of them are very attractive and well-groomed.

Pleasure.The modern world is an amazing place where dogs enjoy more comforts and privileges than most people in Africa. Most people, if you demanded of them the truth, would admit that a dog’s life is more enjoyable than their own.

Know the Beast. Most artists in the modern world seek to become popular amongst the general population. They will soon find out – when it is too late – that each moment spent trying to please the general population, is a moment that gets them even closer to homelessness – or worse – a desk job.

Temporal Recognition. Fame in the twenty-first century is temporary. As time goes on, it will get even more temporary. Many will blame this on technology or society at large. But the blame itself is misplaced and is itself a symptom of the true problem. The real problem is that most professional artists and wannabe artists have become attention and sexual whores.

Responsibility. Technology is an instrument not only for distraction but also for scapegoating. Not only does it allow us to abdicate our mathematical responsibilities, but also our responsibilities in regards to exercising the power of our own Will.

Only One. We don’t produce Shakespeares and Mozarts not because we are addicted to the Internet, but because Shakespeares and Mozarts have always been rare. But that is okay. These single individuals are blessed with a divine love and grace so powerful that they still empower and inspire us to this day. We just need one. Only one.

God is Alive. God is the source of all creativity. Nietzsche declared His death…and then resurrected Him. I have yet to meet someone who understands this. Instead, what we have are fools who refute God because they think God cares about arguments.

Justice. True philosophy has nothing to do with argument or self defense. Philosophy would actually have no function if the human world were not constantly in a state of imbalance and excess and – let’s face – utter stupidity. Philosophy has been and always will be justice, the enterprise whose goal it is to rebalance humanity or a section of humanity. A philosopher will poke holes in a previous philosopher’s arguments not because he is trying to prove the other wrong, but because rebalancing requires it. Students of philosophy will ignorantly imitate the actions and words of the philosopher, not understanding the power and energy and direction of those words. By the time students rummage through the old philosopher’s bones, his original words, concepts, ideas have already succumb to gravity. They have grown slow and ponderous, eventually collapsing into their own weight. The word “love” in the mouth of Socrates, for example is now so filled with every single aspect of affinity, sexual contact, emotional intimacy, etc that the word is virtually meaningless.

Romeo. The philosopher who is interesting in lovemaking, will make sure that he first refutes every definition of love he can find.

Canary in the Coal Mine. An artist cannot express from his heart and soul if his heart and soul is filled with lies and deceits. He can try of course, but he will find only limitation and difficulty. He would be the canary in the coal mine, but in a cave mine that is filled to the top with coal. That is why it is a good idea for every artist to constantly look to remove anything that keeps his heart from singing freely into open air.

Boredom. The general population will worship artists who excite their physical sexuality. Everything else is boring and pretentious like Rachmaninoff and Longfellow and Jesus.

Destiny. Artists must always answer this question: Do you desire fame or do you love truth? Who is your mistress? She will be your lover. She will be your destiny.

Trick Questions. Everything in life offers a trick question. Slow down. Listen. Contemplate. Then perhaps answer.

Wild Unseen Seas

I do not marvel inside this language,
and I have no attachment to the words
I am a lover of visions raw untold
unfolding inside strange sudden light
to form color, aspect, uncanny sounds

If all you see are clever winged words,
ships of thought, minds of familiar form
sailing proud in oceans already explored
perhaps someday you will come with me,
to attempt your own wild unseen seas.