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i write for one
vircapio gale Oct 2013
i write for one
the one i write for
is the one --
i write for one,
the one among --
the only one--
one lonely solitude
i write for one.
you are the one;
i write for you --
the one who reads
and knows i write
for just the chance,
that one among
the many, that one
i write for,
that one
that you
who reads and feels --
the one who knows,
the one,
the one i write for
is the one you know
as you.
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Jonathan Livingston Seagull
vircapio gale Oct 2013
Jonathan Livingston Seagull
he tickled me with love
i imagine
behind his merciless
IBM grin
sadistic chuckle

my grandfather loved me
built me a swing
a wooden airplane
gave me a bicycle
a cape to wear
he taught me pong and pitfall

wielding a brush-broom
handlebar-moustache
a favorite game of his was giving raspberries
testing limits
his iron fingers
wringing squeals of laughter sour
under breathless ribs
tear-eyed begging fits

his old white t-shirt
too small to hide his plump
hairy belly,
i'd tickled him there once
poked him where my cousins pointed
giggling

when the kick came
i felt it in the heart
more than the back of my knee
bent from the sudden
sneering force

when i asked him
years later
for a book from his dying bookshelf
he joked with a growl
the last emphysemic sentence i remember
he said to me
you gonna bring it back when you're done?

i remember
the rules of the tickle game
and love him back
for his sarcasm
firecrack generosity




.
"Jonathan Livingston Seagull' is a novel by Richard Bach
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Kiesha Jenkins rising up
vircapio gale Oct 2015
Kiesha Jenkins rising up
being the "sum of what the world 'thinks' I am"
is written, smeared in blood across the cave i've come to love
and leave behind but only in an understanding:
selfhood carries with it all we lack.
it carries on its seas the diatomic algae fruiting slowly back
it carries on each ladder-rung the selves that other's see,
the lovers' feelings felt,
the mailman's kindness kept--
a stranger's instant siblinghood in eye-flash recognition wept.

my heart is tattered there, and rebuilt here;
i could not be the beating love-train joyful as the sorrows,
the pain and lonely misery, the mind-split cosmic surd of this
that Jenkins must have felt, before her captors left hir dead...
--a bullet in hir back, a simple heart-stop pellet placed--
i could not be the beating love-train joyful as the sorrows,
without your words, your rich, kind thoughts of me
that others do not know they have,
that Kiesha could have known.
"Kiesha Jenkins, 22, was shot in the back around 2:30 a.m. [10/6/15] in the North Philadelphia, a spokeswoman for the Philadelphia Police Department confirmed. .. She is one of at least 19 transgender women to be killed in the U.S. this year." -huffingtonpost

in dialogue with st64 and Third Eye Candy
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Kokopelmana katcina cougar
vircapio gale Nov 2012
Kokopelmana katcina cougar
i was 15 when Kokopele knocked me up
and i was ripe, though unready --
every day i visited my spot
at first to relieve, but then to sate allure --
invisibly appeared,
mysterious pleasure day and night
throbbing at the thought
of that strange spot.
i clawed to sate in dream
what goddess women understand
in noontide reveries,
sultry swells of swoon
i don't know how my belly grew
was it at that drafty wall
or by the reeds..
there were several spots it seems.
i am ashamed
i was told to be ashamed
of this belly i love, and body
cravings carved into my soul,
covert sudden lusts
set in stone at 50,
children grown and making music of their own,
in tents along the streams'
comingled murmur moans,
he visits each in turns
to teach the spiral dance
and finish in the seeded womb.
flowers glow to settle racing heart with truth
infant recognition of an origin's choiceless birth
and now, i am in force --
become katcina cougar, proud Kokopelmana:
the role is taken by the horn --
eat my cornmeal cakes
with crooked somiviki smile while i make you mine
you can scatter but i will find you hiding
purring soft to catch you firm --
every boy and man will learn







.
the Hopi stories this is based on can be found in a google book:

http://books.google.com/books?id=lGLAK2CW0WIC&pg;=PA42&lpg;=PA42&dq;=Kokopelmana&source;=bl&ots;=o-4JPDjDx8&sig;=NLKW7LJjb12wvlsNT8o6PgoIxYs&hl;=en&sa;=X&ei;=xAywUJ36H-aVyAHx0YDwBQ&ved;=0CFQQ6AEwCA#v=onepage&q;=Kokopelmana&f;=false
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krypteia (κρυπτεία)
vircapio gale Jun 2013
krypteia (κρυπτεία)
you were one of them,
from one of us, half-breed woven in--
hardened as a tool of war,
yet keen to have my heart.

my oppressors, free to vote,
**** and ****** on occasion--
they surround me now,
standing, coming forth in turns.

all has changed, it is the same.
i am strewn on sharpest leaves
to satisfy the needs our mothers always served--
be another mixing, nothoi bearing womb.

would you kiss me here
as you did in summer nights?
or stare unblinking at the laughs,
and lift me from the muddied earth?

will you love me equally?
will you set this pain aside
and meet me in our secret wood again?
--beyond the torches, arrive for me
a face of rage and fury wielding bronze
cut them into jets of red,
sever from your lineage
and bind us to a single fate?

alone our eyes were unafraid,
we made delight in safe, warm, dark--
sparked our love into an endless open eye
that gazes still, in bushes, roots of ease, not guilt









.
The helots, a subjugated population of ancient Sparta, "were ritually mistreated, humiliated and even slaughtered: every autumn, during the Crypteia, they could be killed by a Spartan citizen without fear of repercussion... Krypteia or crypteia (from κρυπτός / kruptós, 'hidden, secret things') was a tradition involving young Spartans, part of the regime of Spartan education."

"The Spartans used helot women to satisfy the state's human personnel needs: the '*******' (nothoi) born of Spartan fathers and helot women held an intermediary rank in Lacedaemonian society...and swelled the ranks of the citizen army. It is difficult to determine whether these births were the results of voluntary liaisons (at least on the part of the father) or part of a formal state program. Girls born of such unions, serving no military purpose, were likely abandoned at birth and left to die."

^ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helots
^ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crypteia
^ J. Tregaro, "Les bâtards spartiates" ("Spartan *******"), in Mélanges Pierre Lévêque, 1993
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let's see
vircapio gale Oct 2012
let's see
from over here
i'm not sure what to say
can you read me?
can you read me now?
shall i embark on a quest of cliches?
shall i compare thee to a summer's lay....
nay
thou art a trove more evanescent
it isn't a lesson i contain
or a fountain to pertain
my rhyming speech is but a way to sway my fears away
--avoidance and presumptuous credence--
for another fake, fake, fake assailing parallel of waning candlelight i've never blinked at in inebriated chores
(the pride is seamless in the play of work)
embarrassed trifles witnessed here, and here, too.
i cannot see far or near. the session isn't claimed by fear, only dear, dear, yearning
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limn compassion
vircapio gale Feb 2013
limn compassion
purple,
violent with love
so deep beyond sight
but silver calm serene as well--
the flicker-mood incarnate,
a swiper styled at the center crux of being
that better me,
likes to hide all foxy
in giggle fits of cosmic nothing else but play
--amethyst beams
and silhouetted sundust whirls
of pain dispersed and lethe wards agleam
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little love song on love
vircapio gale Nov 2015
little love song on love
when i write a love sonnet
i want it to be about love
and not just ancient alcoves metered to a tailored rhyme
stirring depths of who we aren't.
i want so much to see your hate
transform, in flicks of pleasure
rise to meet entwined
our loving of each other's source of love
seeded even in a waste
remake the vital bloom
display what meaning pours
the vision: this is it
another meaning we can live for
sing for







.
10.8.2013-11.5.2015



this is written in the understanding that the italian word, 'sonetto' literally means 'little love song,' from sonet, 'song' and sonus, 'sound'

i love traditional sonnets; but in my urge to formalize i rediscover self, and bridge some gap unknown... i find i'm unable to maintain the prior goal, or edit further to a symmetry.  whether by indolence or sincerity, my plea to formalists is to bear with as i fail to hone the craft; to informalists, please excuse the use of ancient forms as a gateway through the modern.
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lost beyond thoughts
vircapio gale Jun 2012
lost beyond thoughts
lost beyond thoughts of consequence,
bouncing taxis blur the streets of my wanderings,
crowds released from roadside governance
and the stillness gauges frantic adverts splayed.
readiness surges toward academe
in the guile of non-influence;
inspiration settles into future springs
while the flutist pleas for calm;
and systems drag emotively to better corners.
friendships diverge with wiser makings worn.
in living returns the united self.
aside turgid dregs of failure’s learned balm
the written strength of former minds
bead their voices into soulful vestibules
and I crouch gayly in the tent of my desire
viewing unmet worlds swept behind,
saving other time-intended growth
for lissome moments drawing on.
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"love" reborn (rebirth of venus)
vircapio gale Mar 2013
"love" reborn (rebirth of venus)
below the eyelid-waves,
another iridescence grows.
currents blur the view in pentacles of light
to rhythms of the waning breath
--warping what an artist's vision yields,
the canvas of the mind stretched taut
in hues to coalesce the old and new,
absorb the intertidal volumes
with keener intake,
firmest diaphram to lift the pressure out
and sink into pelagic origins finally,
imbue myself poseidonal,
renew the birth of "love"

i am soaking with it,
open mouthed my cry is swallowed by the sea
i am a kracken echinoidea
******* up the floor
of life exchanging me with joy--
of jellyfish and snail,
burrowed shrimp, eyeful gobies,
clowns in their anemones--
my spires swirling clouds of green
to carpet spotted sky with verdant wake
and springing there,
from crest to crest,
a body undulating foam, it rolls voluptuous to swell
the bioluminescent instant... taken in the vast, full span of time...
to see her born here,
'mid dolphin song and symbol crash of tide
protuberance of shore awash in seeming pleasure of the rhythmic act--
alive the goddess comes, into her flesh--
to widen eyes,
re-establish channels to the heart
as if an aperture of cloud
were opening again,
to end an ancient overcast
and usher down to earth
the lance of starlight that would reach beyond the wrecks of ocean depth...

so too her visage strikes the darker corners of the heart
illumes all buried hopes
of bottom dwelling wretchedness,
and draws the tide above the line,
littoral tresses falling,
steep in pools calcareous and algal
worlds remaking worlds within the contours sexing there
imagined limestone in your many perfect forms,
marble softness swimming in my eyes
awaken appetites of newfound youth again.
the ochre lines that stripe along your curves
let hidden ripeness waft across my passion-eye
and with the grassy dunes i lie, doze in wrack at once--
as arches of my sight are pierced with rays of inner sun
my seabreath muse purveys, inhaled;
i would see you as you are entirely,
disperse myself into aesthetic mist,
become the spray on coastal loam
a sundog floating in and out of forms
become your mullusk lust;
sipuncula embrace of benthic dust
and slip along the textures
of your progenation's flood--
emerge as one and many lives
becoming me, this vision
in your suds, your divination's scree
--the salty rooting of the coastal trees,
the sand, the wave and moon
upon the dancing kelp forestal out at sea...
shining in the winking foam and symbiota sand.
crevice and the length of dyads simulating one,
phallus, *****, and none--
egg and **** bed..
diatoms  flourishing  again...
in you i am the ****** my own gestation obviates
i am effluxion of all lives in balance
on an ever-swaying crestline of irruptive suds--
diaphanous array upon your porous *****'s heave
weaving in and out, continuing to blur
in riven sight and empty heart to fill
the blood containing rapid urgency
to feed, to taste and seek its nourish-all
when after having given up the possibilities of love
and having worn the incompleteness raw,
the obverse affirmation cracks the sky...
at last they burst surreal into the now
and lacking practice courting glory
stumble over habits long attuned to falsities unveiled
and drawn into your undertow,
all cravings wrung into the novelty of merging without end--
arrive, horizonal, and echo from the dawn of being more than one




.
littoral: of or relating to the shore
wrack: masses of dried seaweed, kelp found on the beach
sipuncula: marine worms
benthic: relating to the bottom of a sea or lake or to the organisms that live there
diatoms: algae or phytoplankton essential to ecosystems
effluxion: a flowing outward
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lover whales haiku(10w) and untailored ecosphere(10w)
vircapio gale Jul 2012
lover whales haiku(10w) and untailored ecosphere(10w)
in orca ova, swim
arisen cinnamon suns;
venus simmers so.

~

no seams seen in sea ***, nor sun, nor *****
the unbridled alliteration is the result of limiting myself to only the letters  

a c e i m n o r s u v w x z  

(the squat letters, idk, the ones with no protuberances or appendages)
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lucid dream dreams
vircapio gale Sep 2012
lucid dream dreams
wakefulness demands a certain clearness when asleep . . .
it doesn't come as planned
"tat tvam asi"
LaBerge says to me in dream of me
"this world you are, withstanding even torments thou art never seen."
and that's enough to suffer aching, opaque psyche summit, forward
heart to rise an interspecies knell when danceless fades the bee in droves...
aimless whales who singing deep in love are cut from evolution's murky chain...
fungal blight of hibernaculum, in deafened sonar sending sudden drop of death;
to horror fragment melt, the ocean swill from ancient caps to sunken polar paw
diverse in massacre of tropic forest fertile mists, lives dispersed
and balance tipped from blindness not unlike the sterile statue's, there
                                                          i­n dusty courthouse corner, shadow-lined with infamy...
what imagined cartoon causal Captain Planet              
                            villainy to blare across oneiromantic globe? and (dreaming?) civil strife,                  
       eradication's alter triumph pose to measure blame in inner life?
of empiric meditation's top, in *******
churning out abuse in deeper,
                                                         ­   younger hidden traffics yet to terrorize the net...                                  
                                             the scraping of the sky had punctured through                                
                         ­                                      from metaphor to fact
                                       the sooty barbs
                            in radiance rebound    
and irony affected 'green'
                  folds crisis and solution into one                            we hope
                like what we say we are, becoming change                      in wartime summer fling    
we                                                        
say we can in world of 'me'                                      
in guilt-assuaging verve
                                  the heifer-gift to village fief
    but then to rest against organic pillow-conscience gray                                                             ­       
                                                               soundly snoring smokestacks fill from ground to sky
still for sly investment windfall   fog  billow, shake...                             
transcontinental scape of dream imbued anew:
i am the genie of my ownmost inner lamp
in dreamtime-being spacious constellational of reach distilled
in contemplation's tratak zoom mInute
   with jet black finger trace
    i net                                                              ­                                        from out the inter-earthen air                
                                             ­                                              the lump on lump of coal
                massaging from                                                             ­      as if an ivory atmospheric                  
lift                   of      weight  
                           the sculpture of our past condensed in elephantine ******
                                                 miasmic fossil shower-haze of sporogenic fear,
mneumonic nail-tusk night of carbon-spirit back into its hold -- originary dark,
Dark light from burning black                                                 once again contained                                                      in elemental subterrain                                                       ­                                                       
         ­                                        --now it underlies the ground inside for triple shielding outshine
--outer-- light to cool us breathing once again . , ,    
false convenience in abeyance in a human time!                                
i am right now of inward self my soul supernal carbon imprint copy                             
for accounting every speciesistic mind to open wide enough and quell the "all-too human plagues--                                                                           ­       cheering all penultimates, in beams reflecting ante-truth          
                                                 down halls of mirror-minds that lightly discourse
on the ingress of a centaur saving power
channeling the leylines of inception,
ecstatic dreamworld of apotheosic glee:
parting the eidetic clouds,
commune an avatar intentionality . . .
ensorcelling the foodstuffs of the world to feed a dozen million refugees,
insectile diet pride attends in homes of affluence,
the abstract mass of media, become eupeptic cud of understanding bats and even bees--
for biospheres a Goodall stewardship arrives
(her perfect chimp call too resounds across the earth!)
and dwindled frogs their former ponds (unknown, destroyed without a sound)
return to chirping vibrant green symphonic swooning life
the glacial march of tears to halt . . .
all ecosystems rife withall
the panegyric of marshlands globally reborn  
along with shining waters, algaeic sun alive at play
in double-helix breath of dolphin families' bubble art
a sudden resurrect from ****** harvest cove arise cascading joyous leap
on final absence of the metal herding knock of trapping pods
no longer hacked in waves of pink, mere preparations for a restaurant sink--
they are free to swim the depth of worldheart dreaming unknown dream entire real again
marine apsaras dip in spectra (flicker eyelid) rays, reintroduce the dawn
her fine apparel calling forth transhuman destinies
unsplicing brilliant minds from ****** task of splicing GMOs
recycled randomness accepting death before we die
mycelium in runs of spilling-- all undone --
migrational attuned our resource use
and CSAs to thrive in eco-city scapes
no solopsistic somniac pretends
--the dream imbued in final hue
a momentary lapse, creationary flux--
the bombs defused in flick of wrist
indentured and enslaved, imprisoned innocents, oppressed and even self-deprived released
through selfhood's metaviral claim
ground of each dependent intertwining
whatness will to be
a place in which to hum in tune or out of tune
to heal and in a another dream aside from this perhaps with me partake
in true oneiric panoply of conflict held
--with permeating rigpa geogaze--
colliding ideologies transmuted into trust
in panharmonium of varied vision
and what the ever present boons of real, imagined symbol-real
create awake












.
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mereologies
vircapio gale Aug 2012
mereologies
all is shedding, all is growing
all is food,     all is fuel
all is useful,       all is living
all is hot,       all is cooling
all is bright,     all is shadowed
all is water,          all is flux
all is one, all is 'all'
all is fake, all is mind
all is flame,      all is wind
all is number,        all is music
all is form,     all is empty
all is word,     all is light
all is fate, all is god
all is chance,    all is pointless
all is good, all is pain
all is play,  all is love
all is beauty,      all is grace
all is honor,       all is family
all is creed,            all is sin
all is nature,             all is me
    all is false,              all is true
all is being,           all is not
all is active,     all is passive
all is lucid,      all is vague
all is boring,          all is sexing
all is sleeping,    all is woken
all is order,                    all is chaos
all is two,            all is three
all is many,                 all is power
all is knowledge,        all is health
all is virtue,           all is wisdom
all is pleasure,   all is work
all is given,           all is taken
all is ours,            all is theirs
all is mine,                           all is yours
all is costly,                                 all is free
all is decay,                                   all is blooming
all is different,                                                          all is same
all is force,                                                                 ­      all is flow
all is woven,                                                                 ­   all is riven
all is medium,                                                            all is message
all is habit,                                                        all is novel
all is worthless,                                               all is complete
all is repetition,                                      all is unique
all is metered,                                   all is rhyme
all is simple,                                     all is complex
all is done,                                 all is waiting
all is language,                 all is thought
all is balance,                      all is equal
all is owed,                     all is tilting
all is spinning,              all is peace
all is vibrant,                            all is grey
all is dance,                                   all is color
all is tragic,                                         all is comic
all is heart,                                               all is motion
all is self,                                            all is other
all is purpose,                                                 all is lost
all is style,                                                   all is learned
all is nurtured,                                         all is coded
all is strife,                                           all is calm
all is blank,                                        all is written
all is now,                         all is past
all is starting,                        all is ending
all is open,              all is closed
all is hurting,                all is healing
all is heavy,              all is hard
all is life,            all is death
all is funny,             all is dreaded
all is fullness,         all is worth it
all is progress,            all is worthless
all is dream,                  all is real
          all is pulling,                        all is pushing
all is gain,            all is lack
      all is presence,               all is distance
all is opaque,              all is clear
            all is alone,             all is entwined
all is union,     all is dual
     all is yearning,         all is stopping
all is abject, all is perfect
all is sound, all is silence
all is known, all is unknown
all is a 'part', all is a 'whole'
all is a holon, all is unsaid
not sure what this all meant, but at least now it's all out.  was inspired by Thales, feel free to add to the list :P
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millenia
vircapio gale Jan 26
millenia
today i die and far away winds may blow, lifting kites children hold while running.

On the sand.













.
collab
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mirror and candle
vircapio gale Feb 2013
mirror and candle
at the advice
of a persuasive psychotherapy
talk-show
guest
i once attempted staring at myself
in a large mirror propped
on a chair
with a candle,
for four hours
as per his perscription
burning, dripping there
i forget
exactly what happened to my vanity,
but it wasn't pretty
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more bigotry
vircapio gale Oct 2015
more bigotry
started the day hearing jokes about clitorectomies and other female bodyparts being mutilated. at lunch i learned that the bible predicts that a 'dark-skinned leader' signals the end times. the other morning i was the shouted subject of various ****** accusations while i went to **** in the woods, and called a "******* hippie-tree-hugger-******"... as a joke, .. test.. target of overspilling hate and ignorance.. i think.  i've witnessed extreme homophobia combined with a disarmingly authentic homosexual playacting --a moment of hand-holding or flirtatious banter that almost convinces one of a sincere, sensitive fondness or even a vulnerable sexuality beneath the surface of these men..  yet alongside such blatant racism to drain the hope in humanity from any listener: "Ferguson hasn't made people crazy--it's made black people crazy... And people wonder why there are stereotypes... IT'S BECAUSE THEY'RE TRUE!!!" and comments like, "it's all about the Jews..." and "I think Obama is a ****" randomly dot the conversational landscape of each day
i want to ***** from this...  been unable to share anything along these lines for a long time... Fear of spreading fear... Fear of fear itself... Fear of my True experience working as a utility line clearance arborist trainee for 5 months... Fear of being hunted down by my ballistics-loving boss... Fear that because i live in the Same house I did when I worked there... He may show up with his weapons and other bigoted cronies... I don't work there anymore....  Please accept an apology if I've caused pain by sharing....  unfortunately this rhetoric has become commonplace again... Let us hope history's repetition doesn't leave the world blind ...  it felt awful trying to turn this into verse... please know I mean no harm.. Si vales, valeo
1/4/15
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more bigotry #2
vircapio gale Oct 2015
more bigotry #2
how joke about racial slurs? about ****? how does one chuckle and say, pointing at a kiln at a summer camp, "hey look, a Jew-oven?" or at a bungalow attached to a lodge, and call it a "****-shack?" how does it come to be, that hate can be ejected at random, toward unknowing strangers, inside a company vehicle, and for 4 other so-called professional men to let it go unhindered? ..that a comradeship in hate can develop, such that one can call a little girl, age 7, maybe 8 or 9, a "pre-****,"and actually get chuckles in response, and even a comment--"yeah, hey look, a free child"? how is it that i've come to witness a resurgence of hate speech in 2015?

my new-found "faith in humanity" is yet again becoming encumbered.. my mind whirls, repeating the slurs i heard, now silent, but increasingly visceral... i burn on an imaginal but no less real stake each time i hear the word "******" used as an insult.. the burning is an anger, a promise of action.. a promise of consciousness
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more personal like the poem's to you
vircapio gale Mar 2013
more personal like the poem's to you
what i feel
is that you are asking how far i want to take this relationship
the passion, the human.
the essetial attempt at truth.
i can't be honest without fear.
but here it is
.
an ultimate extent.
i am willing.
     i am human, too
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multipathing processor
vircapio gale Aug 2012
multipathing processor
like some jealous future self,
my writer's clock balks at this moment with you,
i can't explain, so i give up listening. (i have an app for that)

the writing only stops as degustation ends ~
thank you, though ~ i'd like you to hear
regardless of the meanings lent ~
the gymnolexical fear
appearing ornamental far and near.

google files us away, omniscient
acumen of o's and ones ~
words sing to me their luring promise of a lasting hold,
but less and less
as plastic griming fingers sync
with what it seems to be,
a new world search-
-engine culling info freely
do i still    believe    in order?
striving for the fitted words,
a love imprinted input thus on crystal pixel page,
your effect on me distilled--
refracted throng associational
fantastic server metacomfort
for an audience
                     swimming past into this,
now always
ever-new you appear, bursting
at the seams my vision churning
...effluent sourcing, blurry self of others ~
heart-charming river-nymphs!
bolt-hurling sky-satyrs! reeling nations are subtended by your words
that walk, trod, swim across what poetry,
dance with this ever-blooming techne-earth
as i mark your plasmic eyes
we flow and let flow,
we dance our farmer's mud
into the beryl-winding paths
of othernets and cyberplay,
the restful ends reborn bright white
lacing lattice-scopic fibrous
scatters of another wi-fi interlife ~
we stream and let stream,
river-tress girl, your eyes summon
a great coalescence in me,
we dance into the channeled
delta of spring beauty here across the keyboard;
it cascades a slow attentive phosphene
striking pointed notes of color,
ring beneath and through the
green, sylvan silicon throw of mossy html
so that even rocks and sprawling
tree-trunks sing within the disembodied
vortexes of arrowed imagery to browse
my virtual belongings to you,
alone in your sorrow-joy fighting
free love in an all-world-breath
before the screen
gymnolexical  - words that denude, or words themselves denuded
techne - craftsmanship, craft, or art
html  -  Hypertext Markup Language
phosphene - a phenomenon characterized by the experience of seeing light without light actually entering the eye
Continue reading...
nascent aphrodisias concresce oneiromantic ontologies
vircapio gale Jun 2012
nascent aphrodisias concresce oneiromantic ontologies
love-energy swinging toward bitter blows:
a father’s pride becomes a son’s,
he becoming bitter becoming hatred
in the midst of love abused,
a civil fight for freedom failing in the eyes of youth:
these minds of ours turn wildly—
change to the beat of unknown drums
and death knocks us up
pregnant with a new generation of hate,
of goals to love: the obliteration of hate’s mother,
but question on, worship your mind,
build a shrine of doubt and find
darkness emerging as a deeper shade of black
knowledge? knowledge?
myths laid upon us through the perspectival dimming of language
no one’s fault? societal pressures
no cause for blame? survival instincts
no source of evil? history has a gun to their head. . . .
no use for these words? meaningless.
dialogue, yes, for the birds,
the carrion of hope
once the breeding stops
and lets the precious journey start:
down the cesspool of quasi-oblivion,
where we’re all a minority of one,
grasping for meaning in an abyssm of phantasmal foundations.
words, words, the excuse of words;
when father’s left no ground to walk on,
the son sits there digging
ditches for the death of systems
holes in the fabric mother wore,
tears in the existence we thought we knew.

what is this about? question marks
swerving away from sour truth
bleeds the nonsense through the flesh of what we love
and dying, dying, hate becomes a source of love,
guilt projects a softened heart
kneeling down now
outside, but wanting in.
affirmed, dejected.

[OR
are they swerving away from faith
simply a defense against the actions to take
ontic procratstinator! hear me now!
safety is the goal behind every measure
seek danger and you run the dangers of comfort,
seek comfort, and delusion becomes your handmaid.]

for knowledge of past dogma is dogma too
and the heart pumps it anyway;
for existence is. O heart, your sutra
flows nimbly on into eternity,
but you take this life and live it now,
the rhythm born of a mystery,
sacred to the foolish,
sarkin to the wise—
and the dancing wise man
birthing a new enigma
travels on into the depths of the ordinary
with a smile and a bow,
a hop-skip like Nietzschean
melodrama.

I can write it once for fun,
twice for accuracy,
thrice for fame and ten more for shame.
Do you want to know what it’s about
or do you want to figure it out?
the game of pride makes fresh
the fish of mental seas;
but truth is less cozy;
dagger in your existential eye.

no conclusions to be embraced without the whim of faith?
no art show game gripe to win but for the game of taste?

this bout goes on, this Bout goes on! oh how I wish my mind was lacking!
but no! the sacrifice, but the sacrifice,
pigs of Aristotle knew no quarrell,
no such quarrell.

when does such a poem become a forced effort?  when will I stop questioning myself?
where is this urge to destroy originate?
what ******* language am I speaking in when I think?
what and why,
who the but questions, questions
falling spiking holes in teh floor of contentment
or is it laziness: should I tak emy e pick now or wa itf ort he rig htto **** newith mystic alllllllllllll certainty from be yo ndt he fen ceof lan gua ge.

why go back? why try?
the difference between communication and self-indulgent writing is the effort to conform to the extent necessary for the sharingof truth... and so nobility demands conformity, however long it takes and however wonderful it may be in the mean time to simply spill my fingers across the trypesu ritre lia shjkk e a A b B i IG load o f ***... as if the hiddenness of deconstucted language masked my immaturity as a poet, as a person, as a thinker, as a wallower in shame.  as a Man. as a *** machine. as a weak creature. as a creature of potentially great accomplishments but small ***** at the present, as a person hiding from the said for fear of having to live up to it, as one who doesn’t believe his words half the time, even noe, ever noer rht all suiooos  dhjhjh tuof rhty w arbif trya dfyoudng huddkkfkd fmdmf dfdlililhkjga wyeruipok smmm tuhtuth dgfhg dagdh f dhajkdf  fuduudjjd fh d hdhhd bit b not n tno totot t ototot  read read read read read read read read read reda dnrenadkf leadsd fhdus duig hgjhdf dh sdmf sialdihf duf dreioan ign udfin the dh diguicse of hjtkjh heioa never heros heilike hte  e9a 1 1 ih kj n h ogma doifj hedOLvever otitoto the  ososososririrroow ww dance waiting at the librasyer renckjh c concon con iejr a  goodo excucse to t constraint no nt rot th even dfhight hwith th d dear on the all ndklfn eh fh searching thioart worthless buthen I find htheihadf htis hivoih Valid dfkdljhf jhkajh yea it s i kjh Lavlls ishn Vadildld meaning ngon woven into nonesense nd fnidoijifj bJar in Tennessiossdnohf  a freww few deletes and the important words become clear however taxing on an hypothetical reader from the future in which I do hope to become g”reat” half-heartily,  though for show.  .  .and the experience of writing is revealed through the laziness, or tiredness, of a recent graduate trying to write something meaningful after a summer of passion and *** and drugs and resentment toward the family and the sad economic advice given him.
Continue reading...
new and old words
vircapio gale Sep 2012
new and old words
i will succeed.
biding time, meaning can come later

the forest is burning
with memories of other less important species

imposing dogma, please stop looking at my throat;
i need you though
deep inside
----------------------------------------------------------­--------------------------------
i will fail.
allow this meaning to escape for now

the forest is dark
the memory of how i came, dim

yield up truth for later ages, words;
i have no need for you
otherwise than out
Continue reading...
"no"
vircapio gale Aug 2012
"no"
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb
ccccccccccc­ccccccccccccccc
dddddddddddddddddddddddddd
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee­eeee
ffffffffffffffffffffffffff
gggggggggggggggggggggggggg
hhhhhh­hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj­jjjjjjjjj
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
llllllllllllllllllllllllll
m­mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
pppppppppppppppppppppppppp
qqqqqqqqqqqq­qqqqqqqqqqqqqq
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
sssssssssssssssssssssss­sss
tttttttttttttttttttttttttt
uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
vvvvvvv­vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx­xxxxxxxx
yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Continue reading...
not all languages have capitalization, or spaces beween words, i think (10/11w)
vircapio gale Jul 2012
not all languages have capitalization, or spaces beween words, i think (10/11w)
dreamingswanseyeaperturesboxboatsevergreenstarzenithgazing



~

­

while dreaming,
i became a swan's eye,
i was dreaming through both its apertures at once,
clicking separately, click, click shuttering
both sides from out a box, or from out a feathered,
living boat, or two, severed visions
superimposed:
evergreen under,
star over at a zenith
gazing twice over
paddling under



~
i actually wrote this years ago, to describe or try to make sense of a picture i drew in response to a vivid dream of mine... after reading somewhere that sanskrit doesn't have capital letters, and remembering something about Latin not having spaces, i just felt like expressing them together today, as one, and this is what happened
Continue reading...
nude bigotry
vircapio gale Oct 2015
**** bigotry
intolerant at--
at words that don't work
and hating these

that cover just enough--
words revealed as shade
Continue reading...
Odysseus stood up
vircapio gale Sep 2013
Odysseus stood up
and like a lover struck at last, who,
with insides tearing from the jolt
of seeing beauty's face in full,
will murmur in a daze, unblinking
strain the eye to mar its vision,
stretch exquisite yearning in a flooded blur

i watched him rise, addressing kings
to split the crowd in me

twist my fate into a turn yet not complete
Continue reading...
old first love
vircapio gale Sep 2012
old first love
my first loves
transformed what 'beauty' and 'perfect'
meant to me, and looking back
i see some other meanings
to the imperfection-
perFected i proclaimed;
concupiscent nerves from icy  stutter flutter/stop/and start
to overvast before- and after-glowing liquidy, salacious insatiateness--
to coughing up to concrete luck
or reigning fates between the legs
and then the sob galactic spin of adoration-letting-go
even when in full embrace
from many imperfections always there,
                                                        'perfect­' grew -- astounded me
beyond imagination's bounds--
and i still say amid the memories,
((mistakes and hurts and flaws
i held close then)):
i found in her,and her, and her perfection fullness all and nothing left--
sincerely told her so,
demanding in a tongue perhaps akin
one love there,one love, one more another one in oneness found in one
an understanding of a 'summun bonum' love returning yet just found at last the first.
and then, to see grandma!!
elope away at 86 to marry on impromptu cruise!!
i saw a childlikeness there as she returned,
youthful once again a flame adventure shocking all her young,
to spring her step beyond her offspring
despite the flaws become apparent it was perfect watching them
(with that same man she'd passed up for another at 18)
dance into a twilight swoon of giggles envied by the moon..
finer acrobatics of the heart
to tie the strings of self with other knotted self
together form and net cocoons for loving evolution's end
in learning how again to change into the deeper love of flaws which strengthen us as well to bonding into
this
all too perfect, imperfect endless bliss








.
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/imperfect-5/ says it succinctly
Continue reading...
oOo ooo O o
vircapio gale Dec 2012
oOo ooo O o
oOo opening
of a common ground
dialogue's playing field hosts
not only games for diplomats and mediators.
channel expanse of what i know you know i know i know
you know
you breathe with fibers woven at the birth of words
ooo mutual standing under rain and pointing at the same - no, the same over  there.
consummation of lies released no longer held i tell you i lied i am ashamed and in love and free again.
O locution
of a private sky.
secrets working well contain
a single link entraining ignorance at war.
suppress, hold tight, forget,
forget,
forget forever toss remembrancers of loss
i grit against the tension, and tensest death of signs :):(:
o exclusive lay above the sun and grasping for unique - yes, the unique  here.
tragedy of honesties imprisoned for all time, proud, from a first kiss setting hate in stone.
smoking at a newborn's crib, righteous bigotry
yet the voiceless innocence of child
goodness tender-eared and
never closed
Continue reading...
oracular
vircapio gale Sep 2013
oracular
i can't know

my artifice of kneeling doesn't change the fact
at Delphi
gasping words
from wide silken eyes
mating doubt and trust

in seizmic gnosis
fissures claim
even olive sky
freefalling streambeds

tossed
chests of gold heave
spill with ******* lovers

mingle debts
and portents laid
denuded
over cool marble
shimmered under earthquake suns




===

ἓν οἶδα ὅτι οὐδὲν οἶδα
    Hèn oîda hóti oudèn oîda
    "I know one thing, that I know nothing"
    Socrates, paraphrased from Plato's Apology.

===
Continue reading...
pain dicking pleasure asquare (poeming prosed noemes, prosing poems, haibun)
vircapio gale Oct 2015
pain dicking pleasure asquare (poeming prosed noemes, prosing poems, haibun)
projective geometry used to get me *****
all those positions

,palmately pink and ever green
breathing vasts of void my dark heart laughs in gulping wholes
moaning plenums, hooded over boundless venus-vim

now i'm tired of infinite lines
too many shapes to fit in
too wide, too tight, sharp or empty

,too many ways to come

this was meant to be a disclaimer before a collection of poems

,a way to unclutter
                angst of public  
                              lexicality,
years  after  ­ 'explaining'
                  Samir's 'polygonal me'
                                                to only-me-myself-i-was,
to then indulge this analogic soundlessness...
             
        as i disengage

i can't write without planning on it
i can't write about  writing  without feeling like a fool
                                                            ­                 (,Lear is the only one
that saves me now
                       as now i am the Fool,
                                                 dividing hearts along
in storm-***-love-like railway-*****
                                 steaming full of fiberoptic nooks,
chaining spectra-cogs of a good-will-spirit-****:
                                       concatenated hard-ons every word
each thought a pulsate vulval dream awake,
                                                redichotom­izing lives
                         of shining mons my Athene forehead
                                                      forging fountain thought,
                          urethral letting-beings-be...
freely, my chubby comes back to me
                                         prone before the prostate god)

,in other words
              the same,
                     i cannot write as other than a fool
for
why should i repeat the abject horror of the world?
isn't despair a bit.. overdone at this point?!
and why should i write just the happy!? i'm not in denial, am i?
or am i in denial
about insisting on being in denial absolutely?
--like mind-only schools...
(O the uselessness of words, dismissing patriarchal vigor with yet another wave, the 'brine-milk' ends unending,
forever Femen liberating us of words,
replaced with Fragilaria,
wasting diatomic seas and waterways,
depleted algae gone, extinct: metaphysiCalListo-craticality aborted on a broken Amazonic spear,
our bodies, bodied-hearts, finally won as ours, across Alternaqueeria, fully lucid human-species spanned
i blink my tears and blur my gaze at weeping Pleides

the plan was this: painful poem, pleasure poem, painful poem, happy poem... **** poem, sterile poem, carnal poem, priggish poem, punk poem, open poem, confessing poem, eros poem, **** poem, 'obscene-attractive' poem...
to cleanse inverted mainstreams of my steady-rhythmed pratitpaksha-bhavanams; not "poem, poem, poem, poem..."
but a taut poeming in and out of poems of poemed poiesis prosing poets free to **** again in Issa's snow, or *** on Chiera's cumaholic Shards.

pendulum left, pendulum right; then two pendulums, then none; then one that swings right and left at the same time; then one that spins all the way around, but only clockwise; then one counter-clockwise; then one both clockwise and counterclockwise; then one timeless, then one imaginary one... full of infinite little ones... to represent all the pendulata in the universe as experienced through minor parts of self.. itself as universal part-whole-parcel self-hood spanning star-births yet to come...
,
,
,but it's time to eat a 'square' meal
take off my job-search tie, my peddled lies
                   forget the sunrise vestibules we sipped from,
                                           sleeping by commoding cows

and pretend i'm not dicking myself over
                                                          by­ retreating
into cryptic spectionism-voids again
                                               all seagull-divert-adverts, play
of frozen youth abstrused,
                      self-referred referring loosed
                                          staggered worse than marginalia
no single species 'seagull' singing here
Continue reading...
paradoxic grin
vircapio gale Jun 2012
paradoxic grin
—given the torc of carnal resumings
which gnash my fibrous night-time musings
from the loom of fonted wisdom
and a wheel of word conversions—
the miser in my mental montage,
like a spoke fleeing speeds
that reel within muscled spin,
gates his ripe profusion,
compounding paradoxic lingual grin
in working meanings thin
between what worldly threads proceed.
Continue reading...
peanut thief haiku
vircapio gale Sep 2012
peanut thief haiku
'                                                                ­           mouse caught stealing gorp
                                                            ­                                         flies from bag to fire ring--
                                                          ­                                           deeper sleep






















<:~
it was an accident, i love rodents, 'gorp' is trail-mix
Continue reading...
planned planethood; Pangloss
vircapio gale Oct 2015
planned planethood; Pangloss
we could not've planned it better could
nOt've planned it betta.
could nOT've planned it betta could
NOT've planned it betta

we could've planned it better, we
cudda planned i'betta.
we could've planned it better we cudda
planned it better--

we could plan for it this way
'could plan for it that way --
'could plan for it that way 'e could plan
for it this way --

don't botha plannin' for it don't
plan on plannin' fo'it --
don'bother plannin' for it don'botha
plannin' for it

we could plan for it next time
--could plan for it next time.
we could plan fo'it next time could
be plANnin' for it next time

we could plan for a betta planet
don'botha plannin' ---  for a betta planet.
don't bothER plannin' for it don't
plan for the planet
it could be better better next time
be better better next time
but better planet plan it
b' better better betta b' b'
better plann'n next time.

we could not've had a plan
cud not've had a plan
could not've had a plan
could not have a plan--

we could not've planned it better could
not've planned it betta.
could not've planned it betta could
not've planned it betta
Continue reading...
playing the piano after a long interval
vircapio gale Dec 2015
playing the piano after a long interval
on the way
to return sociology
to the library
i couldn't read the parking signs
so ended blocks away
at a salvation army

the kind with no books for sale
but an elevator shaft
running up, down
behind a drum-set altar
and a stage i didn't buy.

half-expecting 'the war room' ads
posted here as well
i let a stranger lead me to my muse
saying none would mind

Chuck asked me if i 'needed to pray this morning'
before unlocking -
i said, 'every day'  but thought
  not in his way
- i'm just begging him to play.

i read a psalm and kneel to test hypocrisy.
lotus palms connote release from suffering
wellness for all beings

and then  
i am here now
at the keyboard again
playing music i will never forget
even when my chainsaw body stiffens  creaks
the keys a saving home still  though shy
they hammer heart strings
broken, born -again again again.

praeludium, goldberg, well-tempered
minuets conjure Bach
in his stone church
and i cry for lost souls
my own lostness found
though convinced there is no static single 'self'
no 'soul'-rewarded other-life to justify our own
no 'god'- or science-demolished mystery
no metaphysic causa sui to separate
contempus mundi from the mundi...
no tidy verbal 'beyond beyond'
but that of Thales  Sappho  Gautama  
Laotse  Yeshua
Nagarjuna  Shankara
Duns Scotus  Hume  
Blake  Whitman  Darwin
Nietzsche  Du Bois
Tolkien  Stein  Merleau-Ponty  Sagan  Jong

but i will say we've sung the music of the spheres
in host-guest handshakes
stranger  xenophilic tunes
my earthling family hums my heart anew
as i begin  again
to sing my being into fingertips

skyward breath to lid-closed harmonies of hell redeemed
in Peter's vacuuming
request for 'Dixieland'
and Stacy's parting thanks
for 'we three kings'
Ruth's morning-making compliments and invitation back
my wish to share with them the love i feel
- from them, Gaskell's book
from deep within where no words win
authentic ownmost ocean depth of
less contingent love
historically embracing love
of errancy and freedom in our different loves
an atheist in love with vacuums
saucha and the music of human kindness
receiving gifts in giving thanks








.
10.26.15
saucha is a sanskrit, yogic term for purity/cleanliness

'contemptus mundi' is a medieval concept meaning 'contempt for the world' integral to religious escapism and ecological dominionism

chapel-soup-kitchen-center

he said i had 40 minutes
before the cleaning begins

my mother used to use the vacuum to put me to sleep

the puritanical element, cultural currency/status symbol of driving a recycled prius (totaled and rebuilt); ecology as the new global "religion" the cons of which are hard for me to digest, let alone admit, being an environmentalist, and of an ecological mindset

the first ad i saw for "the war room" was on another church's double-door
Continue reading...
pratitya-samutpada
vircapio gale Mar 2013
pratitya-samutpada
entertain the knowing of a term
amid how many names to paint that known
--depends on
termless origins
rising co-become
conditional a part for one unknown
~ wholly always ever-new produced in co-consuming-birthing all
~ intertracing weaves of what was thought was thought
connective tissue waves to render
individual arrays of signing signlessness,
precise obliques, pretend unends
all captured all undone and finally
defined
in seamless positings of word
yet freely boundless
always having ever been alive in proto-symbols
wet then dry of life
beyond the ken of humankindly limits
seen at brinks of sight



  



.
Chandrakiirti defines "pratitya-samutpada" as “the arising of things in dependence of causes and conditions” but it is also taken to be "dependent origination," "dependent arising," "conditioned co-becoming," "co-dependent production," "interdependency" or "interconnectedness," "the multiplicity or diversity of forms," "emptiness," "compassion," and "the Middle Way"
Continue reading...
pratītyasamutpāda haiku-reversibility (6/9w)
vircapio gale Jul 2012
pratītyasamutpāda haiku-reversibility (6/9w)
.





'union' sentience
"all-one-love-of-being-'S'elf"
brings global delight

~

emptiness forms 'me'
flowing novel 'i-am-ness'
as 'all' interweaves









.
"interdependently arising origination", "co-dependent origination", "conditioned arising", "interdependency", "universal concatenation", and "radical relativity" are ways pratītyasamutpāda has been phrased.  this and the philosophy of emptiness the Dalai Lama has called two sides of the same coin, a homeomorphic equivalent for the foundation of universal solidarity.  i find the concept inspiring, if not beloved, and beloved if not inspiring :)

along with Nagarjuna: "All things which arise through pratitya-samutpada, I explain as emptiness. It is a conventional designation. It is itself the Middle Way.”

i'm not 'religious' "per se," but wherever i find threads of beauty and wisdom i like to *attempt* to interconnect them with a secular language.  thank you for your words past and future as they all help me be <3
Continue reading...
private thoughts, irruption
vircapio gale Oct 2013
private thoughts, irruption
beneath            one                            effacing       ­        blush
                          simmers         veil ties               liquidly i stare
                                                  fears   pink with praise      lusts withheld       thimble shames
embalm a gift identity
                  daily sunny graves    
                                       dissembled life

with deeper breath akin to fisher netting cast
                     fog caress mneumosyne             lover's misty thigh
                                                           ­                                      traps me willingly  
blinded   i taste ambrosia
                          gazing at between zones                               believing anything again

cliches pyroclastically reborn in celebrants of ash and cynic deaths
            energetic     swim         i stroke   a butterfly        in Love
                                instant tribadists      commit   a joyous toast to joy itself
Continue reading...
PROFANTIY
vircapio gale Apr 2013
PROFANTIY
!@#$%^&()?"}|[_+~!!@#$%^&()?"}|[+~!
!@#$%^&*()?"}|[+~!!@#$%^&()?"}|[_+~!
!@#$%^&()?"}|[+~!!@#$%^&*()?"}|[+~!
!@#$%^&()?"}|[_+~!!@#$%^&()?"}|[+~!
!@#$%^&*()?"}|[+~!!@#$%^&()?"}|[_+~!
!@#$%^&()?"}|[+~!!@#$%^&*()?"}|[+~!
!@#$%^&()?"}|[_+~!!@#$%^&()?"}|[_+~!
Continue reading...
rage: Achilles, evangalists & hollywood
vircapio gale Oct 2015
rage: Achilles, evangalists & hollywood
O muse and counter-muse; Mother-muse, protector muse--
i am sold.
i agree  again.

gloried ****** sung to grey-orange, setting Suns;
dusk of human brains
                 ticking to the clockwork
                     deaths of Cultures passing.

the due-dates of a paper-legal
              monocultured crop:
cropped
                        to quarter-halves
                                   mcworlding
                                        grins of bottom-lines.

...entire countries checked,
a people's lives and deaths
are filed into off-shore savings banks
reduced to anti-trust...
what wonder at a child's warrior-role,
with only armies holding out their hands.

upon an ancient Shield:
peoples drowned in fear,
seas of understanding, wild
                  as the darkened myth-clouds playing coy
                                 to hidden waves of lucid thought.

symbol-caves, lingual-wombs of families yet in tune,
--shadow-crowded politicians shade us huddled there
                 while Mother-Thetis marks the moment
of our forking fate.

brimstone burns again!?
death as entertainment and a ruse...
i huddle with you there, my Family
                       formed of Stranger-tongues
and linnet's wings..

i've savored distance from the storm,
settled in communal cowardice,
forcing smiles slowly into numbing real...

but only choice revealed is truly real.
when done with hiding here
the other's ripe for overcoming fear.







.
Thetis, mother of Achilles, tells her son of his choice between a glorious death and a long peaceful family-life lived in relative anonymity, his name lost to history... his rage is the opening focus of the Iliad (Lit. "Story of Ilium, 'Troy'").

"linnet's wings" are the concluding words of the second quatrain in W.B. Yeats timeless poem, "Lake Isle of Innisfree."

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/9762/the-lake-isle-of-innisfree/
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rainbow sickness
vircapio gale Oct 2012
rainbow sickness
what did it take for me to miss those days?
crawling breathless,
stomach nails for breakfast, ventricles of rust,
pounding on my ribs with any upright task
from soaking bed delirium,
corroded mind and eyeballs
tortured falun dafa tears
stinging on the walls a glowing red,
my branching veins encasing me in flaming
paths of mystery: to live or die, to try or fail
at simple efforts
--never gone without, since infanthood--
to stand itself a tissue horror
bathing in the needles of another lifeform's hold on me,
that spiral nesting multitasker
legions in the joints,
invading forces claiming spinal tower-riches
as if my thoughts will be my last,
originary flickerings of self, sacked and razed,
the burning out of novelty for bottom emptiness
and only sympathies malinger there--
yet vaster frame invisible to healthy eye emerged:
a sea, empathic with my prior paths from health diverged:
adrenal waves and dolphin plays of other air ensouled i purge
with cascade urges tension mixing universal breath
of statements, fears and wry coercings not to think of death
or tempting near the abolition of a system *****
for all the benison it's bound to store for years
of hiding blind and uttering the shield-word
of our sly, superficial, group-stock lies,
to have us screaming at each other out of only kneejerk love
a mask of fodder from our young dogmatic wanderings
they burn and burn and choke like spirochetes themselves
while shoving under family rugs the truth

cicada shells clung eerily against the burls and branches
of a monumental tree itself a deathly symbol bare of green
like ornaments of rhythm upsurge birthing into death digest
the exoskeletal remains, under finger crunched as
up the bark i climbed
to view what death had taken value on for me, and balanced
up atop the hill of faded names i yearned the meanings of,
and in the clouds
a part revealed
a sunny mist,
to paint me colorful again--
and in that mood a hail began to tick on forest floor:
the brittle dead a singing whisper flaking brown
on brown, on earthy brown to gather white within the paper nooks of leafy drums

how whimsically to service death
anon anon for now they're always lying there
across the road atop the grave hill,
from other species hunted here
but this, that time it was a carved skull
hacked or sawed but yards from peaceful temple yard
another, cleaner omen skull had led me there,
ochre red with emerald mold
the cranial pale divided stop and go
and led me wondering within the stream
to notice other signs i half-expected mystically:
surreal blood abundantly with vulture feathers carpeting the scene:
a stag with missing brain, missing hind and organs
chosen how, i'd never know
--i saw the arrow though, a barb of certainty--
and old fur, gray and white, a timely passing then,
to make of gore a sacred right,
and in hale ignorance i prayed like only atheists can pray
with self-disclaiming smirk but
humble authenticity of unknown forces
biding in the impulse-meaning-gathering of earth,
now memory to glean and hold to live in me
Continue reading...
Rama's inauguration, facing the murderous gluttony of Thataka
vircapio gale Aug 2012
Rama's inauguration, facing the murderous gluttony of Thataka
in ashes hidden, smoulders god of love
from matted dancer's focus conflagration purely come
continues still perhaps in empty homage
of a sa ta na ma
personage of ((Shiva))

white bones pierce the sky
in upward curtain-seethes of heat
beyond imagined burning hells...
the triad ventures into zero-zones of anti-life,
sands of absolute defeat.

shadow trust imparts
a silent teacher's mantras;
soothing psychic words,
"Bala" and "Adi-Bala"
carry over dunes of morbid thirst--
the gape of ancient serpent-maws
choking dust of frightened, elephantine skeletons
fissured by immobile sun--
their inner sound become cool water of a summer stream

in timeless desert, traverses strain of royal line:
god-fated tutelage of seedling savior,
lightning skill with bow and virtue sinew
shining arms horizon's arid form:
despite begrudging honor kings expect
when offspring given after years
in hard-earned sacrificial grace:
yet still obeisance ends in facing demonaic rage
to which is pitted youth to slay--
despite allay by symbol feminine,
as if to question her abode would conjure her
in dire storm and quake announce gigantic step and hairy gulf--
with arrow sprays destroy Thataka's trident, curdling throat
the slitting of, rejoicing pantheon proclaims heroic,
forever railing under epic breath of tacit page theodical:
"we gave you progeny, now grant us our theocracy;
before your son our asthras lay their weaponry"













.
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/sitas-first-glance-at-her-love-and-the-aching-sickness-that-ensued/

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/soorpanaka-the-demon-as-kamavalli-lusts-for-rama-1/
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rape culture
vircapio gale Oct 2015
**** culture
lack of education -- void of understanding
non-empathy meets profusion of imagery:
*** swallowed by power and violence.
"the victim is wrong, the victim needs to change."
--------------------
child psychology, family and school lessons, coercive screenings inoculating submission
one religion, only
in a rife flora of symbol-shifting goodness willing
prune the rest,
deny the human family
dialogue, beauty shared through ancient lines-- bombed
nothing in the shards of modern hatred born reborn uncounted
Continue reading...
record of an unexpected skydive
vircapio gale Sep 2012
record of an unexpected skydive
so quick, so quick--
and it's over in appreciation's bloom
i run and kiss her- glad to be alive with you
adrenaline spread across
the slice of time i am
this life affirmed in downward rush
of vision    swallowing the whole
un    worded     awe
'i cannot be a poet now'

from reading on the drive there:
absurd psychology, it marvels at me
similizing downward flight    to that of two rakshasas thrown
from Angada's leap on Lanka
    palace tower kicked, another symbol falling
likened to Ravana's ego doomed,
ordering to **** that messenger
who revealing imminence alights the fate
of endings we all share,
how could i guess
i blindly follow orders--
the ten-headed ego writhes resistance
at the incapacity in me, the failure  
    to speak    meaningfully,
or trounce the message-bearer
routing through the speech
of others only    intoning at ten thousand feet:
om  earth   sky    cosmos
    contemplating that original love
perfect fullness     within and out
    let us realize our unity
om  peace   peace  peace
at the silence    in the noise
eudaimonic under breath as engine climbs
in moments    (i don't know how i got here)
i chant remembrance into time--
the solar warmth    a touch of ease
amid anticipation's quandary--
he has a helmet    unlike me  
    "Don't let those two mess with you,"
the camera-headed lady says to me before she jumps
her finger wagging    some distant familiarity
of jests to lighten fears    or twirl them in the air--
so cold the wind     and thin to singe the lungs--
his body hanging out the door     waiting for
her flight into his falling grasp    the plane rocks into the slamming door
the door...    is closed again for me to kneel beside
and think of next and after what has come before
    inching    'i love you' at the back of the plane
where crouched the one who whisked me here
in mystery to allow unveiling here today
from reading epic only--gazing down--"no signs" to give away
the open spaces felt and bright  treeless    vast
and getting out of car with closed eyes--
"surprise!" and there sits a plane or twenty over there
and "SKYDIVING" written on the door
which i am happy to dismiss as we walk the other way,
she wouldn't have the guts to surprise me with this--
but yes we turn around and here we are
with sky-crazies in pictures    peace and love on palms
strapped tandem     falling    living     back   still far from earth
we sign the papers under those smiles
faintly listen to the video  squawking 'court of law'
and 'choice of your own free will'
paid and signed away  we harness in and search for fear
windex for the goggles  (but how clearly will i see?)
my ***** are safe from straps or so i think
i'm conscious of the need to quip
and John and Paul--our parachutes--
become a double headed meet-your-maker Pope
for me to flatly joke about.
"Pain is good," says the pilot as
we learn the way to fall
and pile seven in a tiny cockpit,
we're off the ground before i know it
i 'woot' to sign my joy.   as much as to assent
conversations of little more than two lines
keep us feeling human as we swallow
popping in our ears,
--she'll have to keep her gum--
smoke stacks, mines, gray grids of residential scapes
seem to **** the green from curve of earth.
faintly i recall ecology, pulled into the sun
stumbling to cage the meaning of it all
a sentence forms into a trailing nonsense.
my breathing tests the press of straps on waist and chest
deafened, chanting. cease to chant.
the meaning overcome with wonderment beyond my mind.
am i missing something?
thank the pilot as a "Sir,"
"Door!!" "How long?!" "When!?!" --i hear the buckles faintly clicking,
the distance imperceptible a rush
of air i am infused with global letting be
the ball of tight electric fear
a nostril flare of otherworldly falsity--
i am here.
and tilting, instructions gibberish, shouting go! go!!
a kneeling fetal hop into the gust of void
so full the eyelash burns horizonal










.
the lines in italics constitute a paraphrase of the Gayatri Mantra
Continue reading...
recursion
vircapio gale Feb 2013
recursion
oh, sweet discovery--
an affirmation, iterate anew--

frissoning along the spinal ungulate
of waxing waning curve of time i spin

within that spiral, scapular
for sternum bloom in thinning breath
to thick, spread elongate
digitally ground
and see the phasing moons
as one, what, separated is in union once again
as what, in being one, unites united difference all again, again
--again repeated-- in my cells that newness thread
laddered spiecieswide, and more
alighted language coding
holograms in boon of sun--
golden futures past--

univocally found
by none, by all and only some,
and even only one
Continue reading...
red sun - green sun
vircapio gale May 2013
red sun - green sun
create poetic Kosmos
there, red sun --
mereologize a green sun too
(you speak clear paradox to me)
for where identity's own space expands
time allows all forms
a selfhood c^2
color blind i blink at flashes of the light-tips' turning-spins,
which speak pre-lingually from you,
red-green sun, one you
--in your veins, explosive
substance-meanings weaved in nescience,
all-that-is-else that is guidance of the is,
searching, guiding
origins originating proto-wise
a brain of star-potential...
in trustful shine of seeing mind..
your changing knowledge
permanently scriptureless
and scripture-birthing
--honest propheteer from out of time,
claiming rightful throne-identity
with star-stuff sovereignty of all...
a sun from here will crown you just the same
again galactic numbers over,
yet also slave to speaking kingship all alone






.
(this write compelled itself after reading DM's engaging poem, "the red sun" --
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/the-red-sun/
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roadsign haiku 1 of 5
vircapio gale Jun 2012
roadsign haiku 1 of 5
the linguistic turn:
signs, desiccated sense-scapes
earthing sky wisdom
Continue reading...
roadsign haiku 2 of 5
vircapio gale Jun 2012
roadsign haiku 2 of 5
the heart de-sexed
by cloistered syllogisms
artifice sign-posts
Continue reading...
roadsign haiku 3 of 5
vircapio gale Jun 2012
roadsign haiku 3 of 5
direction rests still
geometry of shade-lines
enframing world-ground
Continue reading...
roadsign haiku 4 of 5
vircapio gale Jun 2012
roadsign haiku 4 of 5
meaning stings yellow
the pain of black iridesce
and beyond beyond
Continue reading...
roadsign haiku 5 of 5
vircapio gale Jun 2012
roadsign haiku 5 of 5
clouds, context, land
solitary otherness
and firm turning deep.
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senryu
vircapio gale Jan 26
senryu
barkless willow,
bedding a dry stream--
fox graves curled


















.
yearning for renga, waka, tanka...,,,haibun!!hakkaihaikai^^
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