"reinterpret" poems
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
By: Cedric McClester
A Muslim goes to pray
At any mosque on any day
Which is not meant to convey
The things their critics have to say
I don’t know if you’re aware
Despite the way it may appear
A mosque is just a house of prayer
You’re not indoctrinated there
So wasted time is being spent
Looking at which mosque a terrorist went
That don’t give you the slightest hint
As to why he became so bent
You are more likely to find
The source that captured his warped mind
Somewhere down the dial on line
That’s how he became so blind
Nowhere in Qu’ranic teaching
Will you find what they are preaching
It’s a matter of them reaching
Their own ends while they are breeching
Everything that Islam stands for
Which put simply they ignore
Though that’s the badge they wore
While acting in ways Muslims abhor
They can bastardize the text
And baffle some folk’s intellects
By ignoring the balances and checks
That the Islamic religion projects
And it’s easy enough to fall
If there’s no foundation at all
You might answer anyone’s call
Who can reinterpret and enthrall
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
In me begins a new story. Not that I have just finished something old. That's already been done long ago, without me noticing. A new story begins, because I am that which was always there, new to understand and able to reinterpret.
This relief is so complete that I dare not forecast. I'm beginning to believe in the absence of gravity and the delicate beat of wings. In the vastness of my soul frolick hordes of butterflies. I embody spring which has sprinkled me with magnolias, waterfalls and illuminated letters.
Each mental vision would be a surgical procedure into something whole and perfect. I must be true. Gingerly I deal with the echo chambers of change. They are able to turn the smallest tears into raging rivers. And a flower is enough to carry beauty into the world. The void has taken new space - is that intellectually possible? The new story will not be the final version of myself. But it is no less important. My identity must breathe. This is the only prayer that I will speak. For now I dance alone even in the most beautiful nooks and crannies of all the seas, skies and feelings. But I'm glad if you find me.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 5:02 AM UTC
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If there were better signs along the Road
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Fewer people would get Lost.
-
You complain to the Government
-
But hear Nothing in reply.
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No one ever Said
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Life was a Democracy.
-
But wouldn't it Be nice
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To have a little Representation
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For what Taxes us?
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I've been in the Ditch too many times
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To Drive with my eyes shut anymore.
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All you have to do is Pull over
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To the Emergency lane a few times,
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See the Look in the faces of those
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who have no idea Where to go next
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To reinterpret the Directions
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of the Maps you've been given.
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Just one good Sign might be enough.
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If you're white knuckle Staring
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Down an empty Road
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 3:16 AM UTC
Lately it’s felt like I’ve been going backwards
Retracing my steps with the hope that I’ll find some clarity
Falling back on old habits that always made me depressed
Getting caught up in the past when I should be obsessed with the moment
I listen to old songs and the way I hear them now
Have nothing on the way I used to
It’s crazy how we can reinterpret a melody
To conform to our current way of thinking
I don’t feel the butterflies the way I used to
And I know that this just comes with the territory
of becoming familiar with someone
But the hopeless romantic in me
can’t help but feel the loss
I want the boy to love me
but I’m not sure if I want the pain to stop
Lately I’ve been telling my brain to just go, to mentally move on
Build up my walls and bury myself away once more
But then you message me and I feel myself crawling back,
Over and over again like an unsteady person
Who doesn’t know how to be alone with their thoughts
Once they've realized that life could be different
I’m always fine when you’re gone
I used to be unbalanced with the distance
But nowadays I feel myself reaching peace
Whenever you’re not near me
So every time you come back I know that
the plane of my existence will become tilted yet again
But chasing after a fantasy will never be what I need
I need to be strong and possess some mental lucidity
I’m too weak in my soul and too tired in my bones
To be this worried about a love that doesn’t exist
So when I’m ready (and I know that soon I’ll be ready)
I’ll let myself exit this moment
I’m ready to give up, to take back what I’m feeling
This ill-hearted emotion that proximity
will one day translate to love and devotion.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
Remembering the reminiscence of old times.
The vulgarity of the world has led me to your side.
Playing with missing love, which I couldn't reinterpret.
Neverthless finding the reason of your leaving.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 3:34 PM UTC
I hope one day I will be so in love
So enamoured that I cannot help but write to her
That I cannot resist the urge to describe and
Reinterpret my feelings in the most colourful,
Abstract and simple ways.
That I have no choice but to invent
Tales of being together because I cannot
Bear to be without her even for a day.
That I cannot rest for my pen still
Can't quite capture the essence of
My heart's longing for her.
I hope one day I will feel that
But for now, I must write to a girl of my dreams.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 3:41 PM UTC