POEMS DEDICATED TO senefelder
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NEW PHISICS, OLD!
(a poem by Otelio Principe d'Elea)
He got the dust off the walls I pierced before
enlarging the "becoming metaphore",
so, spirals, walls and "ever becoming"
delineate "universe expanding":
Universes are inside human minds,
Outside, beyond, nil the great pundit finds!
Arabic refrain.
And nil is some of the nothing we know
and we know nothing of the last becoming
which is, maybe, another natal blow:
so, stop, relax, join Omar libating.
Spirals return and parallels rejoin,
paradox exit from human mind's stage,
so, stop, relax, don't listen to the sage,
he will destroy your mind and break your loin.
The cyclic life cannot be metered
by earths, by stars, by all the galaxies,
grapevine unknown, "transmatter" transfixes
holographic truth by human littered.
Proton-Bios' lore, the proton's proto-fires
unknown equations never can explain,
"never", unknown concept, stellar quagmires
on black matter's screen shining milky stain.
All that we know and shall be known resides
inside one cell of one toe-nail and I
- all what it is! - often converse and sigh
for Academe's foolish endless rides.
"No mind, no world" and Ergo "Mind is World"!
The only mind to pierce the ancient walls
inside Parmenides to us recalls
there is no rhyme to kiss the wording "world".
So, what to do, so what to think to be?
Relax and join Omar's research and test:
Imaginary and Reality
exist, united, wearing the same vest.
Spirals return and parallels rejoin,
paradox exists and acts on mind's stage:
do drink the atoms' brew and scorn the sage
and to survive keep warm and tight your loin.
Don't burn the book and don't destroy the tape,
we must keep track of human foolishness:
the birth of mind and the tellus mater's rape,
to "feel" our inner cosmic godliness.
Coda.
This "note" is long because of piles of dirt
accumulated in so short a time
by minds "mutated", which are much alert
to fill spittons with dead bacterial slime
COSMIC DEBRIS
You'll never know to whom you speak and see,
You'll never guess who's he, facing your eyes,
Until your Self, unbound, higher will rise
Links Bio-Psychic breaking to be free.
He oscillates back and forth, high swinging
Over the curvature of time and sees
Yesteryear's feats, well known over seas,
And morrow's deeds, his look aflame, beaming.
His inner vision encompasses all
Physical forms, like Creatures from the deep
Sea, which, at once, the panorama sweep
And those from trees of forests tropical:
Rotating, zooming, retractable, im-
mobile, a machine-tooled bright cluster
Of sensuous jewels, under shadows shiner,
Diamonds embedded all around the rim,
Each with electron-nano-scopic sights
And holographic colored spectrum
Surveys reality and its tantrum:
Amazing optic marvel at its heights.
You'll never know the beauty of his Being:
Synchro-Symbiotic-Electro-Pulsating,
Firing, discharging, absorbing, glueing
DNA's patters, unseen, spiraling...
You'll never guess, never can visualize
Your nothingness, the melted-down circuits
Inside your head, the pride of all half-wits,
You'll never, never the truth realize.
There you are, holding a cup of spent fuel
with morphine loaded arm, prey of conflict-
ing thaughts, an alienated derelict
Reaching the depth of slums, deadly and cruel:
And re-miniaturized a seed of crime,
A dot you'll be there; a myriad dots
Mingling with strings and super gordian knots
Forming the band of curvature of time:
There he will slide, back and forth, on the bend,
Your dot cannot perceive his dense strobe light
For ever doomed through the cosmic night:
To Singularity he will ascend.
And Keats and Shelley and He will last through time
Wading through slime of suburbian mob
which smarts and sages with eagerness rob
to satisfy its greed, soil'd with grime.
Your last will betrayed glorious lore
Of billions cells surviving ice and fire
When your mutated genes shanged attire
Wearing shamanic rags and bones galore.
Alas! You took a time-delayed seed
To open and said you knew its creator
Showing the pod as proof, not the donor
Of life: you sanctioned the stupid creed.
Finally gone - ashes from ashes - gone
Without the idea of what was all about,
For ever gone! Even your kin will doubt
Your name's the same smeared on schistose stone.
Taking a tour round seneferder's gallery. Go to the next exhibit