#karamazov - Hello Poetry

Lawrence Hall, HSG [email protected] Which Karamazov are You? Wise Dostoyevksy Writes with holy words the mysteries Of the Russian soul

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Nov 11, 2024

Nov 11, 2024 at 5:34 PM UTC

lawrence-hall

Which Karamazov are You?

Lawrence Hall, HSG [email protected] Which Karamazov are You? Wise Dostoyevksy Writes with holy words the mysteries Of the Russian soul

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Lawrence Hall [email protected] https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/ poeticdrivel.blogspot.com The Russia Project I will give up my copy of The Brothers Karamazov When they pry it from my cold, dead hands

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Mar 9, 2022

Mar 9, 2022 at 11:31 PM UTC

lawrence-hall

The Russia Project

Lawrence Hall [email protected] https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/ poeticdrivel.blogspot.com The Russia Project I will give up my copy of The Brothers Karamazov When they pry it from my cold, dead hands

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The Fifth Karamazov When young we identify with Alyosha His optimism and his innocence His fragile, flowering Orthodox1 faith A happy, almost-holy fool for Christ When older, the sensual Dimitri, With irresponsible lusts and desires Grasping for the rewards of the moment Now, ever now, wanting everything now Then older still, as intellectual Ivan Sneeringly aloft, above all faith and flesh A constructor of systems and ideas From the back pages of French magazines Though never do we identify with Nest-fouling, leering, lurking Smerdyakov Our secret fear, unspoken fear, death-fear: That he might be who we untruly are But hear, O hear, the holy bells of Optina2 Those Russian messengers3 singing to us Inviting us to meet Alyosha again At Father Zosima’s poor4 hermitage 1Russian Orthodox 2The name of the real monastery upon which Dostoyevsky modeled his fictional one 3The Brothers Karamazov was first published as a serial in The Russian Messenger 4Poor only by earthly standards

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May 25, 2017

May 25, 2017 at 8:13 PM UTC

lawrence-hall

The Fifth Karamazov

The Fifth Karamazov When young we identify with Alyosha His optimism and his innocence His fragile, flowering Orthodox1 faith A happy, almost-holy fool for Christ When older, the sensual Dimitri, With irresponsible lusts and desires Grasping for the rewards of the moment Now, ever now, wanting everything now Then older still, as intellectual Ivan Sneeringly aloft, above all faith and flesh A constructor of systems and ideas From the back pages of French magazines Though never do we identify with Nest-fouling, leering, lurking Smerdyakov Our secret fear, unspoken fear, death-fear: That he might be who we untruly are But hear, O hear, the holy bells of Optina2 Those Russian messengers3 singing to us Inviting us to meet Alyosha again At Father Zosima’s poor4 hermitage 1Russian Orthodox 2The name of the real monastery upon which Dostoyevsky modeled his fictional one 3The Brothers Karamazov was first published as a serial in The Russian Messenger 4Poor only by earthly standards

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Another adventure begins On a day to remember On the 11th hour of the 11th day Of the 11th month in 1918 WWI ended But the war continues Between the material and spiritual The Grand Inquisitor in all of us (Dostoevsky) Tries to encapsulate the formless We're all searching for the magic pill Red or blue What would you choose? Fortunately, there is no choice You become who you are eventually It just depends how many lives It takes for a full realization Of this reality A spiritual warrior is always in transition I'm spending the next few weeks traveling from Portland to Los Angeles Maybe on to Peru from there I plan on writing in realtime In spacetime, I'll be riffing Suggestions of where to explore are appreciated That would put a big smile on my face I told my Cree friend of this journey She laughed and called me Thotin Thotin is wind; wind in all forms I told her I identified with water She nixed that: 'water is too predictable, wind is just ****** nuts' We lol'd I guess the wind is blowing west :)

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Nov 11, 2014

Nov 11, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC

aaronmullin-fb

Thotin

Another adventure begins On a day to remember On the 11th hour of the 11th day Of the 11th month in 1918 WWI ended But the war continues Between the material and spiritual The Grand Inquisitor in all of us (Dostoevsky) Tries to encapsulate the formless We're all searching for the magic pill Red or blue What would you choose? Fortunately, there is no choice You become who you are eventually It just depends how many lives It takes for a full realization Of this reality A spiritual warrior is always in transition I'm spending the next few weeks traveling from Portland to Los Angeles Maybe on to Peru from there I plan on writing in realtime In spacetime, I'll be riffing Suggestions of where to explore are appreciated That would put a big smile on my face I told my Cree friend of this journey She laughed and called me Thotin Thotin is wind; wind in all forms I told her I identified with water She nixed that: 'water is too predictable, wind is just ****** nuts' We lol'd I guess the wind is blowing west :)

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