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Oh Poet, what is beauty? The harmonium of the seven senses when energy and form become more than sum and strike the ageless chords we carry within.
Beauty may be thing, idea, act, sacrifice, thought, occurrence, non-occurrence - or none of the above.
Halfway to Hawaii one night wedged into the crook of a huge gun on the nuclear cruiser U.S.N. Long Beach,
I beheld wild beauty in the rage of near hurricane sea storm, gale wind louder than man,
bow leaping to lightning sky to fall back to wet black over and over and over again.
It soothed the soul. Next night, same boat, same sea, in the unsame night we hissed along, I watched flying fish leap into the air, the smooth dark water below rippling in phosphorescent green where they left the sea, drops of green dotting their path as they dripped thru the air with the greatest of ease. It too soothed the soul. 2 beauties - one large, awesome, exhilarating . . . one slow and gentle. Both magic beauty without calling magic beauty within. Share a passion... Truth, justice, and what I was led to believe was once the American way. But never really was. Is. Or likely to be. Share a poem... Plagued by a black cloud of druthers It's the "I Ain't Got No White Boy Blues" Though I got no honey for spreading And there ain't no money attending Yet I ain't got no White Boy Blues For I've roof over rising A warm bed abiding Friends fond and affirming And a past that's worth hiding So I can't get no White Boy Blues Possessions don't taunt me Though lessons they've taught me Like inner, not outer be And better to let be The quicker to be free The taught me do teach me I ain't got no White Boy Blues Yes, it's a sadness I'm lacking Or, life's licking I'm liking But that's why I got those "I Ain't Got No White Boy Blues" Think nature, what would you be? Wind. Air. Evaporated water. Light. Sunlight on water. I would be light. I would flow. I would rise and fall. I would shimmer. Reflect. Refract. I would be both particle and wave. An inspiration towards self-realization... Fear of god after reading way too much Old Testament way too young. Been looking within looking without ever since. To some avail, but no success. I'm pretty sure there's an escape clause somewhere in the fine print, so I have to keep trying. Share a thought... Saw rabbits dance, once. In the woods. In the night. In moon light. A courting dance, the lady standing still, the male bounding about in slow, unsteady circle. Until a 2nd rabbit guy came along and the 2 guys mock fought, feint, rabbit ruckus - and the lady left. After awhile the guys noticed she was gone. Stopped, looked at each other, and left. All three in different directions. From 2 …to 3… to 2 + 1… to 2… to 3 1s. Share a truth... Do as you would be done. If we all would help a little, it would help a lot. Great food (whatever turns you on or elicits a passion) Food pretty much bores me. I'd use batteries if I could. Tho a good dark black cup of coffee still excites me. Great books (titles, stories others should read, you feel) Books to me come when needed. At 17 starting my road alone, it was Jack Kerouac's On The Road. 21 in need of new road, along came Aldous Huxley's The Door of Perception, and like Alice, down the rabbit hole I went - willingly. Kafka's "The Hunger Artist" weighs on me more than any other short story. The Castle & The Trial should be read to prepare one for life in asylum earth. Love science fiction - it helped give my mind soul heart eyes wings when young in flesh. I read anything by Philip K Dick - Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep is a good one, as is Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said. Great titles, weird mind. Dashiell Hammett's The Maltese Falcon & The Glass Key. Read every Stephen King, enjoy most. But the fundamental underlying double helix forming my focus since 1968 is Zen and quantum mechanics, and I've volumes galore on each. Titles don't matter cuz you find what you need when you need. Great one = Zen Bones, Zen Flesh - the 3 early sources of Tao & Zen. The Universal Myths - Heroes, Gods, Tricksters and Others and The Trickster - A Study in American Indian Mythology both have their moments + provide great sources for poems. Krishnamurti . . . Gurdjieff . . . Carlos Casteneda . . . Ouspensky - you know, the normal flaky hippie dippy stuff. All time fave rave tho is Lao Tzu's Tao Te Ching: The Book Of The Meaning Of Life. Recently read some on the Gnostics who believe hell is this life on earth and that the real hero in the Garden of Eden was the snake who was just trying to help. Now I'm reading The Collapse of Chaos - Discovering Simplicity in a Complex World. Not that it's doing me any good. But being an agent of chaos, I feel it's my duty. A most thrilling moment... Hanging in the sky a mile above the earth in total silence, total isolation, feeling no movement, hearing no sound cuz you move in the wind with the wind, watching the good green Amish earth move slowly below, ponds, lakes twinkling in sunlight, green fields & foliage rolling & roiling in the breeze. It's odd how much out you can hold within. In an unreal world, Cleveland gains when it loses…??? An activist poet performance artist like Daniel Thompson because dead and gone, he's safe. Alive, he's an activist. Dead, he's generic product. Alive, he's bad breath. Are you part native American Indian? Who knows? I bled to death in 1990 and they filled me up with others' blood. So I could be partly anything, if blood is blueprint. I'm mongrel, mostly mutant. Not nearly nominally normal. I do believe all things - mechanical, plant, animal, mineral - have spirit. A spirit that deserves respect and consideration. Life is better when it's collaboration. Unless it's the collaboration our government has had these past 200 years with what's left of the native American. Talk about blood... *photo/poem/art cc Steven B. Smith artcrimes smith http://www.agentofchaos.com Steven B. Smith |
