next »

[The Lycaeum Forums]

 The Lycaeum Forums » Arts » Poetry and Literature (Moderators: Kosmo, Moo)Topic:
 be, bloom, arise causal soup!

[parlerlibre]

change changes
and if every ending must end
then even death, too, must die

that is so strong. wow.
gorgeous lines, friend.

[Moo]

Hey psilo, groovay stuff friend.

I hope to see this stuff often.  I wonder, will there be a break while you're off and away?

[psilocyborg]

we are not saints
we are the juicy fruit
just hangin around bearing seed
shake it for me, mama
blow your breeze through us trees
hey hey, drop and roll!
though we are not saints
we are not stains
we are the milky fire of formuliaisons
'tween sexy song birds of
philo phylum paradise
dig that flock is flown

[psilocyborg]

Who is that mastered mind; what tames its vicious circle?
It is I, myself, peering into and smashing mirrors.
Heave ho the heavy rock unto unleveed streams of consciousness.
Light and life, diffracted and skating on the ripples.
And all the colors go 'do do-do do-do do do-do doooo...'

[psilocyborg]

in the end, the feud was futile but not all for naught
now we swing and sweetly sing our demons back to sleep
and when the demons toss and turn, not yet awake
just listen, watch and wait
think gently
and blow a kiss to the rising sun

[Moo]

If I were to title the one it'd be Unbending Optimism.

[psilocyborg]

take a seat if you've got a sec
it's not like you to be depressed
you've had a time and held your breath
for so long

so you've made your mind... I won't get upset
it's mostly right, but I must confess
you've drawn a line between life and death
and you're so wrong

our choices bind us to cause/effect
so roll the dice and hedge your bets
I do my best to break the chain and yet
it goes on

we fake our parts and play the game
you break my heart, I lay the blame
been round and round and not come up for air
in so long

hold on, my dear
we have nothing left to fear
I'm here
so hold on

if you can speak, read to me the news
it doesn't have to be the truth
I'd really love to hear your views
just drone on

you found your voice, but I lost my faith
it's over now, but everything's in place
to see one last smile on your lovely face
well so long...

[farmerjack]

wow, and ouch!

it ends with kindness

othewise I'm at a loss for words

[Hyperspatial Ape Beausoleil]

i knew a man bojangles
he did the dance of creation for you
he smelled like hanuman
a vagabond beneath an arch of flames
mr. tambourine man
with his ever-changing rainbow
of weather-beaten mudras
brought the house down
like psychic children
we set fire to a straw hut
at the end of the universe
i find my way home

[psilocyborg]

thanks jack n hab.  those were lyrics to a song I wrote and have now recorded, albeit in a still somewhat rugged state.  The "bass" for instance is just a guitar pitched down an octave and the drums are missing yet and the vocal cut has me less than completely satisfied but what the hell, here it is for what I hope is to be your listening pleasure: http://www.sendspace.com/file/cgbb5a

[farmerjack]

even raw it's not bad, not bad at all.

your voice? very strong.

somebody put it in my iPod. does that mean I owe you money?

[pshmell]

i love it psilo! great guitar at the end
beautiful

[psilocyborg]

we were scales on the back of ouroboros
jade and jasper, jigsaw jewels uncomprehending of the great awake dragon's eternal mystery
flaking and drifting into the tender clutch of a nobody-home gaze of soft black insect eyes
pupils like the space between the stars, stars disarrayed and forgotten like the celestial tomes of Atlas
we danced as daemon along the spine and woke serpents from their sleeping caves
wore our crowns and hearts and rode the thousand-spoked wheel to our temple in the myriad Edens of earth
we gave our hands to the path and were blessed with an endless fountain
we chose to die of thirst and lived instead, turned our cheeks and wept, a chorus alive and weaving a gleaming yes
we were the wind and the wind whisked us away
and we rained love on illusion

[Hyperspatial Ape Beausoleil]

Dang, that's tasty.

Psilo, if we ever have books, I think we should do a book tour together. Our poetry/poultry recitals would be peppered with naked dancing hare krishnas singing our bastard praises.

I don't feel like much of a poet lately, but that would be sufficient encouragement, I'm sure. Every line would be punctuated by a nipple. My soul cunt is growing wetter by the moment.

[pshmell]

i want to be in a book. heres some of my poems lately

the howling winds scream as they pass through the motionless air
stirring up monstrous waves within the calm sea water
on this night as bright as day

the moon guiding the soul of the captain of this canoe
all the while, being jostled by the raging flows of momentum
but never once moving from the same place
as many miles from home
as moments have passed through his periphery

the push of the paddle pulls power from the void
each stroke propelling the boat as far forward
as the water is pushed backwards
by the legs of this crafted wooden creature

the dull captain has never gotten where he is going to
he has simply been there his whole life
----
the gull perched atop the nest of drab concrete lifts off
floating through the loose, volatile atmospheric particles
much like a ray floats about the relative density of the sea

his long wide wings keep a perfect balance
countering the push of gravity with pulls of the muscle
flap...flap
he curves slightly, obeying his loving master, the flow of energy called wind

smoke rises from the grill, entropy seems to win this battle
as the child of fire disperses into the rolls of flows of the wind
becoming that force guiding our winged friend, the Gull
now resting his worn out muscles atop his rocky corner
cocking his flat-sided head every which way

his curiosity emanates from his soul to mine
finding its place on this page, and lending itself to your eyes
now
----
woosh!
a disturbance
the cool air atop this cliff
shakes with reverberence

turning my head
like the flick of a switch

energy ripples out
from the tip of this wing
a pair of another pair
woosh!
----
pendulum drawn back
and let go
God breathes life into his creation
in an awesome transformation
of potentiality to reality

swinging forth, happiness
and back, to suffering
a dog chases his own tail

at the asymptotic futility
of grasping at clouds
tranquil Death chuckles
sitting still
betwixt the poles
----
pulling this notebook out of its pouch for my own sake
snags my phalanges in a chinese finger trap of creativity

fingers wrapped tightly around the base of this endless inkwell trying to push words out of experience flat onto paper that pushes back against the rolling ball point

the wooden strips of this wise trinket remind me
to be like a sponge before i expel myself from the grip of I

[psilocyborg]

Dang, that's tasty.

Psilo, if we ever have books, I think we should do a book tour together. Our poetry/poultry recitals would be peppered with naked dancing hare krishnas singing our bastard praises.

I don't feel like much of a poet lately, but that would be sufficient encouragement, I'm sure. Every line would be punctuated by a nipple. My soul cunt is growing wetter by the moment.

I'll be Jack and you can be Gary, okay?  Or we'll both be Wavy Gravy.  We'll be dying children reading poems to clowns.  And we'll sell weed and turn people onto DMT for free.

Thanks for sharing, pshmell.  I especially like this one;

woosh!
a disturbance
the cool air atop this cliff
shakes with reverberence

turning my head
like the flick of a switch

energy ripples out
from the tip of this wing
a pair of another pair
woosh!

[Moo]

I am going to have to get to a place to hear this one. 

Psilo, you have put up some good songs over the years man! 

[pshmell]

Thanks for sharing, pshmell.  I especially like this one;

i wrote that alone, on acid, in the woods, overlooking puget sound. barefoot, too.

[Moo]

from HAB:

I don't feel like much of a poet lately, but that would be sufficient encouragement, I'm sure. Every line would be punctuated by a nipple. My soul cunt is growing wetter by the moment.

I haven't been feeling it much lately either, for the last few weeks.  Not while at a computer anyway......  I did write/draw the concept of an album at the beginning of the month.  I wrote 8 songs and drew art for 3 or 4 of them, and concepts for all 8, then wrote parts of 5 more songs as after thoughts, each with concept drawings.  It was just flowing out, pretty killer.

Picture a sphere, divided down the center.

One half, the left side, is filled with brain matter.

Other half is a globe over view (any section, doesen't matter..).

On the brain side, there is the neck, leading down to body of course.

On the globe side is a metal globe stand leading down to top of a book case.

The body is then drawn in rough muscular form.

The shelf is filled with books.

Both connect to the ground, etc.

Quote from HAB:

My soul cunt is growing wetter by the moment.

*Moo shuffles his hooves*

A stirring in my udder,
A squirting from down under.....

Phsmell:

Woah man!  That was awesome! 

the push of the paddle pulls power from the void
each stroke propelling the boat as far forward
as the water is pushed backwards
by the legs of this crafted wooden creature

Awesome man; I love when words have a certain feel when said together, emphasis on "p" in first part of this quoted piece, and can be pleasurable to think/say/write/read.

I dug it a lot man.

*~*~*~*~*

Mountains atop these plains,
Long oak legs which feel no pain;
Climb to peek above,
Wind blows with the grain.

*~*~*~*~*