Embrace by Shawn Yu
Just hide me in the antimacassar of a painting, an image. We all have a little Kerouac in us. Feed me naturesque falafel. Khorosho.
My concepts are vertical, like darkness in retreat. Today may be a pun on French words, fraught with great deeds. If I could have entered the palace of Louis XVI my “fleshless lips of air” would have greeted me like a lit match held underneath one’s feet. Brahms-hums, a kind of rain in my ear—every room is the same: reaching for perfection within four walls, without man-made accompaniments.
A room is full of hidden speech, edible; some of them full of negative energy where one must coax angst out of anger, fleeing from mysterious kinships as this. Empty meditation without impersonal consciousness is a room full of cactuses. In this hidden chamber I caress my books, my papers, my confused mass & run aloof from barking uninviting indestinguishableness. Uninvited people, seeing one’s eyes arrive into view, like great marbled floor patterns, peristaltic shock. During the Festival, I walked through chronic swarms of people; I observed these flourishing crowds, like ravenous ant-eating kleptomaniacs, unlatched like broken doors, fatigue in this sight, fatigue in this dirty mess like a mudhole. I look on, perpetually smiling in ample folds, like an unfilled shape evolving.
A poem:
Doubling every person’s Functioning,
to stretch, surround, the upper & lower
jaws, gums, upper & lowers lips, vocal
chords, gullets, esophaguses, eyeballs,
hearing & not hearing, sound waves,
brightness, perfume, cologne, scents
to behold. Is this flowing, flowering,
forming, growing, scorning, slowing
or separating, shaking, stretching,
surrounding, broadening, clearing?
*
A thought isn’t always a poem, is it? This arose into my ear-follicles, my onrushing mind, just the other evening:
The net has too many holes, gills of undending exhaustion. We’re like the whale, a shark’s chipped tooth, bronze altars of sunsetting sky. Our lungs like stained-glass—a trumpet snarling like a frustrated cat, like a sudden ‘clapping’ of speechlessness.
Sometimes the printer comes on by itself. What is going through those wires? Electric groupuscules with a Hee-Haw. The same jumpy-reaction like the ice in the cup sounding off without warning. The sounds of two cats eating out of the same plate: Now that is a true symphonic masterpiece. Naturesque Mozarts.
“Took” for what it’s worth. Like the photograph of Obama in 2008 reading “The Post American World” by Fareed Zakaria. What does that tell you? President Obama is a realistic version of Bowser Koopa. Nancy Pelosi should be the spokeswoman for All-Things-Plastic.
O, nature, how you fill me to the very brim. Yahweh, over-flooding me with blessings. When I am in the forest, I feel as if there’s stark visual fields of concentrated surveillance all-around me—the eyes of trees, animals; the ground clutching at every position. Cell phones should not exist in forests; if only they could send shortwave recordings in spy-form into the ether, a la The Conet Project, then perhaps we could code our thoughts to one another via moving clouds, or a sunray or two; all would be sure instinct. I just carve messages on trees, instead.
If the moon’s pupil opened a bit wider, the sun would gasp with rapt attention & reverse every memory, every photo, so that all light & life would become an absolute anfractuous shadow sunken into the infinite mire upon the pressed lips of the universe.
Poem written several weeks ago:
I just want to reach up
and smear the moon
in every direction
so that the entire sky
would resemble
a popcorn ceiling.
*
Brilliance of Creationism—stars literally “singing” to us at one time, via Dr. Carl Baugh:
A room is full of hidden speech, edible; some of them full of negative energy where one must coax angst out of anger, fleeing from mysterious kinships as this. Empty meditation without impersonal consciousness is a room full of cactuses. In this hidden chamber I caress my books, my papers, my confused mass & run aloof from barking uninviting indestinguishableness. Uninvited people, seeing one’s eyes arrive into view, like great marbled floor patterns, peristaltic shock. During the Festival, I walked through chronic swarms of people; I observed these flourishing crowds, like ravenous ant-eating kleptomaniacs, unlatched like broken doors, fatigue in this sight, fatigue in this dirty mess like a mudhole. I look on, perpetually smiling in ample folds, like an unfilled shape evolving.
A poem:
Doubling every person’s Functioning,
to stretch, surround, the upper & lower
jaws, gums, upper & lowers lips, vocal
chords, gullets, esophaguses, eyeballs,
hearing & not hearing, sound waves,
brightness, perfume, cologne, scents
to behold. Is this flowing, flowering,
forming, growing, scorning, slowing
or separating, shaking, stretching,
surrounding, broadening, clearing?
*
A thought isn’t always a poem, is it? This arose into my ear-follicles, my onrushing mind, just the other evening:
The net has too many holes, gills of undending exhaustion. We’re like the whale, a shark’s chipped tooth, bronze altars of sunsetting sky. Our lungs like stained-glass—a trumpet snarling like a frustrated cat, like a sudden ‘clapping’ of speechlessness.
Sometimes the printer comes on by itself. What is going through those wires? Electric groupuscules with a Hee-Haw. The same jumpy-reaction like the ice in the cup sounding off without warning. The sounds of two cats eating out of the same plate: Now that is a true symphonic masterpiece. Naturesque Mozarts.
“Took” for what it’s worth. Like the photograph of Obama in 2008 reading “The Post American World” by Fareed Zakaria. What does that tell you? President Obama is a realistic version of Bowser Koopa. Nancy Pelosi should be the spokeswoman for All-Things-Plastic.
O, nature, how you fill me to the very brim. Yahweh, over-flooding me with blessings. When I am in the forest, I feel as if there’s stark visual fields of concentrated surveillance all-around me—the eyes of trees, animals; the ground clutching at every position. Cell phones should not exist in forests; if only they could send shortwave recordings in spy-form into the ether, a la The Conet Project, then perhaps we could code our thoughts to one another via moving clouds, or a sunray or two; all would be sure instinct. I just carve messages on trees, instead.
If the moon’s pupil opened a bit wider, the sun would gasp with rapt attention & reverse every memory, every photo, so that all light & life would become an absolute anfractuous shadow sunken into the infinite mire upon the pressed lips of the universe.
Poem written several weeks ago:
I just want to reach up
and smear the moon
in every direction
so that the entire sky
would resemble
a popcorn ceiling.
*
Brilliance of Creationism—stars literally “singing” to us at one time, via Dr. Carl Baugh:
According to the observation of radioastrophysicists, stars, by radio wave context, are ‘singing’ to us. Stars throughout the universe are emitting radio wave energy. These stars emitting radio wave energy, but that there is music on those radio waves of energy. Not only is music emitted, but the music being emitted is in a major key. The music being emitted from these stars is harmonious. NASA compared the music being emitted from these star sources to the instruments of an orchestral creation. It seems that everywhere we look, creation is orchestrated. Recently, with some special plasma ionized research units, NASA found that Neptune and some of the other planets in our solar system emit a signal which sounds like whistling, as if it were whistling a tune. First of all, there was a firmament of water above the earth in crystalline form. Crystals take on very special characteristics. When energized with a current of electromagnetic energy, crystals amplify long radio waves. Each morning before the Flood, as the earth turned toward the sun, when the angle was just right, the energized radio waves reaching the earth through the universe were amplified by the crystalline firmament canopy. Each morning before the Flood the radio wave signals from these stars, or ‘music,’ could be heard on Earth. Light energy does something to the human body and to all life forms, even if it cannot be seen. In the early hours of the morning, as the fiber optic nature of this crystalline canopy above the earth was transferring light from the sunny side of the globe, it would have very gently enhanced that light. If an individual were asleep, and could not see the light, as the light were enhanced that individual would begin to stir, for the light would be received in the biologic mechanism of his body. Light would gently induce the individual awake. The crystalline water in the firmament canopy before the Flood would filter out the harmful shortwave radiation. The canopy would permit the long waves of energy to go right through it. In fact, the long waves of energy would not only be able to pass through the canopy, but would be enhanced, or amplified by it. While the individual sleeping before the Flood was gently induced awake by the light, about dawn he would also have been greeted by the amplified sound of the radio wave energy being emitted by the stars. NASA had found that there are bursts of energy from these sources, but there would also be sustains, crescendos, diminshes, and terminations. There would be new music every day.
*
Interesting links to articles (particularly that relates to eschatology and the bizarrities of our government), photographers, artists, etc.:
Interesting links to articles (particularly that relates to eschatology and the bizarrities of our government), photographers, artists, etc.:
Obama confirms his faith in the One World Religion
Soros advises Obama to use forceful measures to override the will of the people
Al Qaeda Leader Dined At The Pentagon Just Months After 9/11
Soros advises Obama to use forceful measures to override the will of the people
Al Qaeda Leader Dined At The Pentagon Just Months After 9/11
Photographs by Charles Grogg
Paintings by Mikalojus Konstantinas Ciurlionis
America is Becoming a Police State: Senate Passes Bill S 510
(considered “The most dangerous bill in United States history”)
to control what you eat! what you can grow in your own yard!)
Obama on the cover of the November 23 issue of Newsweek magazine
depicted as the Hindu god, Shiva the Destroyer, doing the “dance of death”
*
Paintings by Mikalojus Konstantinas Ciurlionis
(considered “The most dangerous bill in United States history”)
to control what you eat! what you can grow in your own yard!)
Obama on the cover of the November 23 issue of Newsweek magazine
depicted as the Hindu god, Shiva the Destroyer, doing the “dance of death”
*
What begins the love nest,
strict demands for imagination...
Most all governments do not have functioning brains...
Our minds as finite as the universe; a dreamlike sketch...
All of these smart bombs from idiocy = morbid lies...
They want you to dive into waterless swimming pools...
They want you to dive into waterless swimming pools...
...Mouths like the beat of horse hooves, and as Conrad once wrote:
a place of cruel and absurd mysteries not fit for a human being to behold.
Do not write a book, let the book write you.
Tremendous amounts of Eager, vast and uninterrupted. There is a language on the soles of our feet of all of the places we’ve ventured; if you just walk around, dance around, stumble around on a white sheet, many words will suddenly appear as if out of no where.
Tremendous amounts of Eager, vast and uninterrupted. There is a language on the soles of our feet of all of the places we’ve ventured; if you just walk around, dance around, stumble around on a white sheet, many words will suddenly appear as if out of no where.
(Subject: Jackson Pollock walking on water; deals with the idea of depth in painting. Greenberg thought depth was an illusion; the flat surface is what Formalism was all about. So what might look like depth here is only an illusion according to Greenberg is shown in the boat lecturing on the nature of flatness and gesturing toward Pollock ... More Here.)
