Were you a man or a cabinet?
Curiosities constructed in 1713 perhaps
Hidden away in a nondescript attic
Until the time was ripe the fin-de-siecle
When realisation dawned that within draws
Stuffed with trinkets & stray dust bunnies
Lies a precious seam of rarest marvels
Exquisite cadaver sipping the new
New wine through bottle green glass
Sanctified relics of the Sur-Pope
Of the interwar generation stumbling
Over the ruins from cafe to bar
Fossilised gems from a stupa
Of the bodhisattva of the coming unconscious
A loosely bound notebook with smudged pages
Of maps of deviated wanderings
Through Parisian suburbs & flea markets
A vision of the world as it should be
A theory of a unrestricted desire
Free at last to dream of making mad love
On the heath the street the aquarium the hotel suite
Huh Grand Dieu
Exultant eagle & rampant lion
Rise & shine up & atom
A tableau of the ideal family at breakfast
Solemnly debating the dreamwork of the night before
An obsidian monument on the road to Timbuktu
Dreamt in Chicago & conceived at a bus shelter
Within the apartment on the Rue Fontane, no. 42
Above the clip joints & go-go clubs
A part is always Papua New Guinea
Totem & fetish gaining in magical potency
To the pulse of the sleazy breathy beats below.
While on the balcony of the embassy in Port-Au-Prince
Which overlooks a radiating magnetic field
The flashes of gunfire reveal a key between the cracks
Splendor Solis 22-Sun rising over the City c1532 to 1535
Stages of the Sun's manifestations: Three-in-one & one-in-three, Black Sun generates putrefaction, Setting over inert, inland sea, Quickening the already rapid decay; For waste is the deep Art of the Way, Giving eventual rise to the White Sun's brilliance and luminosity, Intensely abstract unforgiving light, Glacial display of divine virtuosity Until some warmth & heat return As the Red Sun dawns impurities burn Away, revealing the Golden Gates Thru which Judgement & World awaits.
The Four Seasons-Artist Unknown-circa 15th Century
Straying from the centre and its concentric streets I wandered without purpose through woods and near precipices With the sun scorching at the nape of my neck Shoulders aching from the straps arching inwards Into the skin so tender and too sensitive Longing for a symbol looking for a sign Of a new determination forged by a force of destiny That would reveal to my shuttered senses a revelation Of a harmonious strength sensuous and holy To repair and make whole this riven world.
Exhausted by my exertions I searched for a spot Where I could rest for a while from the rapid changes Beneath the ground and up above always generating Growing only to gradually decay before dying The heat was intense so I lay down on the shady side of the hill Closed my eyes and slowly drifted through clouds and islands Past fields of lilies and ponds of lotuses Valleys where all the birds of the air alighted vaingloriously To be granted a vision of valour and grace In a endless pasture of flowering ethereal peonies
With the clear bright gaze of the celestial bound She surveyed all around and subdued with a glance Beckoning the beast with a wave of her arm he approached Slowly the Lion stretched arching its back before lying down Prostrating its Majesty before the greater power of Her Majesty Hers was an imperious strength that neither strove or imposed A will reconciled with the way of the revolving spheres Of the Empyrean above eternal and absolute Soft and dark, serpentine and divine Dream vision of a vaster dimension
Illustration from Boccaccio’s De Casibus Virorum Illustrium
For how long had I stared at these walls in silence? My entire world confined to a despairing vision Of masses of grey stone always damp to the touch A barred window above excluding any natural light The taciturn warden who brings me my slop twice daily The only sounds the tantalising jangle of heavy keys But I know that there is no escape possible from here So I console myself with thoughts from the past
Because it hasn’t always been this way, not so long ago I lived in palaces with ante-chambers larger than this cell My wealth and prestige derived from illustrious ancestors I spoke and Popes, Emperors would listen attentively My sage counsel would be deliberated by the Senate I held the world in the palm and from my fingertips Flowed power in its purest untrammelled essence
Reminiscing of yesteryears glories I lulled myself asleep And then the dank cell was filled with the softest glow Emanating from the beautiful visage of a celestial presence Raising myself from the hard mattress I tried to speak But the Angel or Goddess placed her finger on my lips And told me to be quiet and to still my racing heart
“Do you not recognise me, you who spoke so eloquently On my behalf on many occasions, defending my ways Against the slanders of the uncouth and ignorant? I would say you have no reason to be afraid of me But that wouldn’t be strictly correct, because I am Destiny, Lady Fortuna, she who must spin the Wheel of Fortune
If you require consolation in your present plight Do not ransack your memory for vanished luxuries, You who toyed around with ideas of ethics and philosophy Were you so enraptured with the transitory pleasures Of this realm of the senses that you forgot you were human Eternally subject to the constant Divine Law and Way That requires that everything that goes up must come down?
One minute you are at the top, Lord of all you survey The next, after I turn the wheel that requires turning, You inadvertently offend those you strive to serve And bemoan the nature of your temporary lodgings As if it wasn’t the empty space that makes the room And the state of mind that defines the state of grace Realise that complete reality isn’t some trajectory It is nothing more and nothing less than a circle.”
cakeordeathsite 