Posts Tagged ‘truth’

The Poet’s Dream

January 3, 2015

My friend tossed up some interesting thoughts about life and poetry and God-only-knows what he was talking about . . .

lookingforthelongride/nothing new under the sun

His ruminations inspired me, so I wrote this poem, dedicated to my friend, and the search that we embarked upon many years ago:

Let us ride then, you and I

along this way that you ascribe.

We know that we began–you and I,

and all our brethren on this ride–

as squirmy fertilating squirts

in search of pregnant, ripening, love.

We stumbled into ecstasy, but then we find it hurts;

So we sculpt protective nests, with children from above.

Yeah, we cultivate truth and faith along the way,

weeding out the doubt, the sin, the strife.

Cast your bread–our Ancient of Days doth say

upon the passing waters of this life. . .

It will return to you after many days–

all the faith and hope and love we tossed into that stream;

In spite of trouble, pain, and our wicked ways,

we’ll gather love far greater than the Poet’s dream.

Smoke

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Ideal Academé

November 8, 2014

To stroll beneath this leafy green

beneath a sky so blue,

while contemplating beauty, truth, and the dream

of concepts that are true,

perpetually engaged in pristine pursuit

of knowledge–this is bliss,

until the real world plops its bitter fruit

upon your idyllic blissful tryst.

Oh, these perfect roses have inspired us

with such rare beauty, exquisite perfection;

and our winding paths of conceptual trust

lead to groves of virtual subjection.

But if ever we should stumble,

and forsake the pure ideal,

perhaps it’s then we will be humble

and think the way we feel.

Glass Chimera

Parabola

June 21, 2012

Neither life, nor anything in it, is just a simple straight line. Even crystals, which grow along straight mathematical forms from the elements and minerals of this world, have to be cut before we value them.

There’s nothing really simple out there. It all confuses. That is why, I suppose, people have such trouble accepting the idea that there is some kind of absolute truth in the universe.

Nothing in this life ever just jumps on a straight-line path and goes forward, without vectored influence to push/shove it to the right or left. In experience we are, like, all over the place. Here one day, there the next, trying to make up our minds about what to do, how to approach this or that person about something-or-other problem, or how to solve this problem and ignore that other one, hoping it-he-she-it will go away.

So if there is any truth in this life, in this world, universe, we access it only after discovering the nugget from some obscure hiding place, and then we are proud of ourselves because we’ve uncovered some precious truth, like treasure in a field. Eschewing the common good and beauty all around us, we prefer to dig for rare booty. Then finding something good beneath all the crap that goes on becomes a triumph of sorts, and we can feel good about ourselves for a while.

Jesus explained to his disciples that he speaks to the people of this world in parables, because they do not see really what something is when they are looking at it, and they do not really hear what’s going on here, even though they think they are listening.

I think that’s why writers like me like to veil our visions in allegory, metaphor, nuance, and literary B.S., hoping that the world will dig through our fabric of symbolism and story to discover¬† some truth in it.¬† We could say that, parabolically, we are a little bit like the master story-teller of all time–the one who spoke truth in parables. In truth, however, our vain musings can not hold a candle to his wisdom.

Glass Chimera

On the limitations of humannness

April 23, 2011

Law built his kingdom upon a foundation of strength,
hefting beams of order upon discipline length
while
Progress made her society of perfectible members
teaching reason and freedom among liberty timbers.
Then
Love set up a clinic of hope and of healing
upon sacrifice and sweat and their warmfuzzy feeling
till
Truth tore it down, and sent all of them reeling
‘neath a sky that is falling and a chicken in every debt ceiling.

Cluck cluck Selah
whadya think about that
Thanks for the doughnut hole, so long.

Glass half-Full