Situations

[rowens]

            Situations

There is no Evil,
there are no Errors;
there is GOOD, and unfortunate events.

An apple at night,
Joy and Delight.
Matilda in the purple flowers.

Sigh for memory's a heathen that 
chokes every ghost with hard evidence.
What are those, diamonds in the sky?

"Be serious." No.
Life hoards for vitality
not summer lessons.

Stores rations like dishes, not taken out
unless needed. Banks are paper towels;
men and women soldiers.

A child is a holiday within a season.
On the other side of her glasses,
she sees each day is an eclipse

where martians struggle to be felt.
But in her orbit, her glasses, 
her body . . . All of it.

Reason is a painter, kept starved
with concepts. A bird is a word;
when you least expect it a son of the new neighbors shouts.

Who, but the ocean has sensibility,
waning and waxing as a pool, as air,
as a river?

Surrealism is a commercial for life.
How absurd to take a picture in the midst of it.
Memory's crucifixion.

Native violets are what we call them.—And more.
A guided tour, and the guide chirps, a monkey.
Think of times when Pan may be your guest,

all the world a lion for you to tame.
How ferocious a science, knowing and not knowing . . . 
010101000

Fool and rake, venusian and satan;
ear of corn, the color yellow, 
aimless clouds and walking towers.

Hardly a book, only read by you,
a woman in a field or in a yard
or in a store, on the sidewalk . . . 

A sun in a sky, in a galaxy, a
universe . . . 
Everything is happening.

Land and lore,
the willows and the rowans . . . 
Each day marches is a fairy tale . . . 

The film and the character
perpetual animation
The Ocean is a River.

[TranquillityBase]

            Situations

There is no Evil,
there are no Errors;
there is GOOD, and unfortunate events.

An apple at night,
Joy and Delight.
Matilda in the purple flowers.

Sigh for memory's a heathen that 
chokes every ghost with hard evidence.
What are those, diamonds in the sky?

"Be serious." No.
Life hoards for vitality
not summer lessons.

Stores rations like dishes, not taken out
unless needed. Banks are paper towels;
men and women soldiers.

A child is a holiday within a season.
On the other side of her glasses,
she sees each day is an eclipse

where martians struggle to be felt.
But in her orbit, her glasses, 
her body . . . All of it.

Reason is a painter, kept starved
with concepts. A bird is a word;
when you least expect it a son of the new neighbors shouts.

Who, but the ocean has sensibility,
waning and waxing as a pool, as air,
as a river?

Surrealism is a commercial for life.
How absurd to take a picture in the midst of it.
Memory's crucifixion.

Native violets are what we call them.—And more.
A guided tour, and the guide chirps, a monkey.
Think of times when Pan may be your guest,

all the world a lion for you to tame.
How ferocious a science, knowing and not knowing . . . 
010101000

Fool and rake, venusian and satan;
ear of corn, the color yellow, 
aimless clouds and walking towers.

Hardly a book, only read by you,
a woman in a field or in a yard
or in a store, on the sidewalk . . . 

A sun in a sky, in a galaxy, a
universe . . . 
Everything is happening.

Land and lore,
the willows and the rowans . . . 
Each day marches is a fairy tale . . . 

The film and the character
perpetual animation
The Ocean is a River.

Thankfully this is in Miscellaneous so I don't have to try to improve it.  I've read it multiple times.  Here's my pitiful cretinque.  I like best the stuff in blue.

[rowens]

This is from The Doppelganger. That is a book of reflections. Luckily, lyric poetry can carry multiple significances. There is a narrative, these poems are the songs in the movie. The movie is a cartoon. A cartoon is a talking animal. I'm a cartoon man in a cartoon world.

The Order of my song books are/is: The Late Show, In the Deep Woods, The Windmill Factories, Explanations, Strange Lines to Matilda, The Doppelganger, An American Werewolf in Copenhagen, and The Kindly Ones. The unauthorized autobiographical fictions: Journey To Somewhere Other Than the Night, Confession of the FOOL, Under the Rainbow (or Above the Abyss, depending on the results of my lust). And there are many other books of different kinds. The same and different. 
Only The Late Show is finished.

The others are in shambles. But I want to make the game plan public, in case an Executioner is needed.

I've seen Midsommar and The Wicker Man, I know what they do to werewolves in Europe, let alone in Hollywood, roundabout where the Australian now lives.



The Double: is the Angel, and more.

It: is the shapeshifter.

We are fluff gathering. Flight-of-ideas and inane misreadings are as legitimate now as Seth Green, or is it Jamie Kennedy?. "It's the Millennium, motives are incidental." Especially motives for metaphor. The obvious is obscured in the mire of precedence. Watch Prom Night, you'll save time.


Any questions?

---

William Blake wrote of Angels.

Angel Blake is the blood on Satan's claw

Every angel is terrifying!

Especially Laura Moon.

[TranquillityBase]

Any questions?

Yes, where are these books?

[rowens]

Answers:

The Late Show is in the Amazon.

It's the worst of the bunch. Like Jay Wright's early book.

The rest are in notebooks and emails and index cards.

The problem with writing as fast as I do is there is so much to wade through to piece the books together. I'm only one man, despite my Angels and MIND-'ENERGIES'.

---

The Late Show was originally published, with more poems, called Voices From the Shithouse. I also have a book of essays, Explode Into Space. My new book Love and agon, also unfinished, and my other books of essays and urban legends improve on the Explode Into Space, "a work of youth."

I'm working fast to promote myself. I'm not getting any younger, for all Matthew McConaughey has to say about highschool girls.

---

And some of the books have to be lived. An American Werewolf in Copenhagen is partly foreshadowed in my poems Ishtar's Ascent From the Underworld and the last section of Marigold, the whole poem not the mutilated version, both on this site, well, all three.
If you know Katelyn Davis, Marigold might offend you. You might get offended anyway. As I often say things simply for shock value, then delicately weave them into my Personal philosophy. A trick I learned from Friedrich Nietzsche.
Ishtar's Ascent From the Underworld is a tricky poem, as it's a triangle of Eurydice (with Italian spelling there, to maybe someday impress that minxy little babylon S. Albanese, of YouTube fame), Inanna and, well, me, the Poet. Though I'm not quite Orpheus, as in my poem For A Daphne, I'm not quite Apollo. If you want to know why I'm not quite Apollo, you can read my poem Border Land (two words, like Waste Land), also on this site.
I have a book called Explanations, after all.

I feel free to promote myself, I'm a confiden(ce-)t man.

And I've been writing long enough to get a far trial.

---

Or fair

---

Take the i out of fair and you go far. Take the I out of PAIN and you have PAN. ALL


When I talk of nymphs and goddesses I'm talking about nymphs and goddesses. I'm talking about specific women I know. The same and different. Literal figurations. Real stuff. Literal.

The 72 Angels, the 72 Djinn, are the 72 Virgins. The same and different.

Like Rosemary said in Rosemary's Baby, This isn't a dream, this is really happening.

Unfortunately, she said the same thing about Woody Allen.

[rowens]

I finally got around to looking at what the critique is.  The bird/word bit, is of course a break, a break in the action; a break in flow, and an interrupting shout.

The punctuation does what it does to build up and break down. And like musical stops and starts, in sound in logic.

Well, I put breaks in my poems, intentionally when I don't need to, to justify the ways of gid to man.

There is no Evil. Errors is, of course a swipe at William O'Neill.
But there being no evil, I've been saying that, for years, around town. I figured I'd put it in a poem.

People get pissed the fuck off when I say that.

"I'll take a bullet to let you know evil is real."

"I'll lay down in front of a train to make sure evil is real."

And I don't blame them. When I liked a girl half my age, I would rest in my jealousy. You know, like a hatred. I could see the guy she was with and think, This guy looks so gay. He don't have any hair on his back. And his facial features are real smooth-like, kind of like the girl I like.

I knew I could whip him. And that was enough.



: Now I don't rest in anything.  Don't need to.


I say, There aint no evil.  People say, Boy, you better calm down.
I say, There is no Evil.      Then somebody says something.


It doesn't have anything to do with whether or not there's evil.  Nobody's a good sample of it. They've been compulsively avoiding it their whole life. Now
something comes up for them to need it, and they do that thing men with racecar caps do when they know everybody around agrees with them, and they don't have to say anything and they look down and walk away smiling, just knowing.

[TranquillityBase]

I have to entertain my cousin the doctor today, but tonight when the moon is up I'm going to read those poems.

however i can't find Marigold.

*****************************************************************************************

I read Borderlands, Ishtar's Ascent, For a Daphne.  To be fair, though some will mock me, I read them at dawn.  On first reading I call them pastoral (Borderlands), epic (Ishtar), lyric (Daphne), all clearly by the same poet.  Ishtar was overwhelming, but I'll go back to it a few times.


*****************************************************************************************

I also watched that video of James Dickey on Dylan Thomas.  Goddamn if I'm not going to have to change my opinion of Dickey.  Not his poems, but his mind.  

*****************************************************************************************

And you have gifted me with the realization I can add to posts like this and it won't go to the top of the Recent Post list crying see me see me.  Someone will have to care enough to come back and read it.  Accidentally maybe.  Anyway thanks.

[rowens]

Marigold is in the suicide thing.


Everyone was making fun of suicide poems. So I wrote a serious one, to show how it's done.

You have to wade through to find mine. Read the full version. Not the first version on there.

---

Daphne's middle name is Dawn. So maybe you caught a sight, at dawn. Read it again in summer.

[Erthona]

rowens, you silly little man.

This a silly list if you like Liszt. A list of non-sequiturs with a connection, although tenuous at pest-touring. There are some high points, but no need to point them out: Banks, Oceans who butt and reason. I'll leave you what you left me, but there is evil, at least from a certain perspective. Of course it's mainly on the receiving end, whereas the giving end is quite enjoyable. Satan is Sadism, though a rose by...

Best,

dale

[rowens]

For being a drunken vulgarian all weekend, I woke into a lucid dream, where my door and windows were paved over. Though it was a lucid dream, I'd been stripped of my powers, and sank into lower and lower levels of dreams, having to climb back up through each one. It only ended when I forgave myself.

I wonder if people on deathrow would be released if they only forgave themselves.

[rowens]

Since I was lucid, knew I was dreaming. The harder I tried to climb out, the more I sank. I know everything about myself and more. I'm the only enemy in a world of me.

What I did was: In each level of dream I was in, I would grab any family member or male I came across, and try to have sex with them. SINce incest and homosexuality violate my Code, they disperse the boundaries of my mindscape. Laugh at everything, forgive everything, heal everything.


Religions have codes, not logically, but dream logically.
If you're gay, simply don't be a Christian. . . . Unless you're a Catholic priest, in which case, you're pretty much GrecoRoman,


and I could make a joke,


But that would only weaken the intensity of similar jokes I might want to make in the FUture.