#monolith
Wisdom carved in stone
is lost / what we know we know
under an accumulation of moss
Sep 19, 2020
Sep 19, 2020 at 8:09 PM UTC
Loading up my black mirror Skinner box to feel connected
Growing in the recesses craft horrors have recollected
Knowing when the tendrils attach more ascend to deck and
Burrow with an aim to enact order and stay infected.
Preying on desire with cracked swords a solemn gesture
spills aboard aloft an impactful throne of sordid fester
None adorn a thwarting reaction as a suit of armor
Gunning for the floor the distraction of a warring vessel.
Thunder isn’t half of the problem pouring ocean water.
Nothing but an echo, the past it seems was scarcely special
Wonder if the grip will relax if I can paddle harder
Sunder every bridge in a gasp for the forgotten nestle
Covered up in plastic, ******* thinks he’s just a farmer
Wonder when the bones in my back will feed the mortar pestle.
Fumble with a weapon enraptured in the frozen water
Doesn’t change the fact that the ******** on another level
Jan 10, 2020
Jan 10, 2020 at 1:49 PM UTC
Consider a dandelion
Consider a mountain peak
Consider the ripples from a single drop or beat
Consider a star explosion
Consider space and blackhole son
Consider even suns and moons
are satellites of a greater U vision
To father is to reach a view that stretches far beyond
What you ever thought you could ever do
The highest bell rung
To father is to find what's true
fill the gap and know what is out
of ones control too
To father is to make a splash and as you fade to the depths unknown grave
the waves you made
are all that's left to carry on infinitely
To father is to be okay burning up yourself as you light the way
holding glass minerals gas and stone
without knowing exactly how or where the spinning turned a house to a home
Just knowing that when you reach
the top or your mass collapse drops
it could break the very world you create and devistate
the very plans woven to levitate
SEW
Fathers Mediate the space between
The waves and dreams
Winds and streams
Pulling your seeds apart
Stack mass and cash
to pay attention to their heART
Spinning webs of redemption
Stitching wounds building arks
So as I grasp the view
of the present bestowed and
I shiver in the vast unknown
but no matter beating rain
or interstellar hurricane
The futures big enough for my echo to be heard again and again.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 10:13 PM UTC
I've always been in place,
in situ
Maybe (just maybe) ...
I'm sui generis?
When my lifeline intersected with spacetime on this continuum
I found myself moving toward a collision course with duality and non-duality
Moving towards a zero-point
What are we talking about?
Nothing (Rafelski & Muller, 1985)
As a geographer, the mimetic expression was dualistic
As one plane flowed through another;
as fiat lux flowed through Medicine Rock
I found wisdom
I further explored the duality @ this place
(also known as University of Lethbridge)
The U of L is an interesting duck
It walks like an Albertan university
It talks like an Albertan university
But one of these things is certainly not like the other
The U of L got its chops as a house of learning for the Liberal Arts
Follow those roots and you'll see conduits to another spacetime known as UCBerkley
U of L memetics share material memories from the birth of the Free Speech Movement (1964)
And as Arthur Erickson drafted up his plans for Canada's centennial gift to the Province of Alberta, I'm sure he would have been partaking in the pleasures of this particular spacetime
I'm sure at the very least that he was listening to Hendrix wax on about Castles
As Erickson designed this modernistic monolith called University Hall
There were influences such as Arthur C. Clarke and his novel 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
He was certainly knowledgeable of the Blackfoot stories of the Old Man
And of course as an architect he would be versed in gravity and how built structures on a slope tend to creep toward base-level
Strange but true, Erickson's first degree was in foreign languages
So what I see is Canada's premier architect wrote a poem for us in 1968
In a foreign language
And that poem would be expressed over the next forty to fifty years
Some of those primary poetic elements were:
Berkley, California
Hippie Movement
Creep (or gravity)
Base level
Blackfoot creation stories of the Old Man
Jimi Hendrix poetry and his savage musical genius
"and so castle's made of sand melt into the sea, eventually."
So let's reinterpret that line to be more U of L centric
(through my glossy apertures)
"and so monolith's made by man melt back into god eventually."
........ ....... ...... ..... ..... .... ... .. . zero~point . .. ... .... ..... ...... ....... ........
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
A large headed being sat and he did stare,
looking over my shoulder, looking at your lair.
In the void he sat, and on its rim you perched
looking upon that old monolith, larger than the earth.
He looked and said:
"Allow now that perchance your spirit
will not allow you to end my life.
Look downward upon my spiral
and scream out whatever your strife."
With a rage-filled yelp you leaped onto his stone head
crying you struck again and again until
as the soot settled the creature was dead,
and you found the peace within.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC