Fable / Fallout

Posted: January 16, 2017 in madness, spiritual, Uncategorized

And it was the same time when the ants found that they had been replaced
by empty plastic bags walking upside-down on clear teeth
through the hollowed skull of panda, who had in turn
turned himself into a ghost simply by wondering if his thoughts
were simply nothing but ice water fountains of his own desires
hidden inside a sort of ghost panda, in a sort of doll
made entirely of dolls continually knitting themselves into being

Where the squid dancing with itself forgets that it is only one squid
it tries to wake up other versions of itself by shaking it’s own tentacles

This is of course madness
comparable to the pheonix feathers painting themselves
as a rainbow with every color but they are themselves the last color
that they will never be able to paint unless, they can become
like chameleon, ever skin shifting
sneaking away the secret parts
to build the golem, the magic clay monster
to do the bidding of the fable kingdom

Why?
The eternal why….
it plagues us as it nourishes us…
makes us dogs slaves to poison.

Why give birth to undying narratives?
Populating characters like pariah colonies-
is there some end to the badly drawn worlds?
the FAT and UGLY truth is that-
(you, me, the-long-dead-gods)
do not write for some beautiful exquisite meal
of words to be set out to the diner guests
in all their finery- NO!
we (one, anonymous test-subject)
create as a by-product
of living in a glitch-program-simulation

it is simply the claw marks
left on the cave walls
as we are dragged by life
insatiably hungry into the blackhole
of banality and TIME.

City Shock (c. 2015, Taipei)

Posted: January 11, 2017 in spiritual, travel, urban

Overwhelmed
Overstimulated
Responding to my new environment
With a camera and a laptop
With a hungry stomach and hungry eyes
An open spirit
An open mind
Body shaking
From the sheer scope and awe
Yet when an earthquake happens
I can’t feel it at all
Head tilted back
Trying to see the top of 101
Look for keys
On moss covered mountains
Oversimplified
Overexerted
Reconstituted
Poetry books reworded

Return to Innocence (Enigma, 1993)

Posted: January 11, 2017 in family

This morning I woke up crying,
But I was smiling at the same time,
I’m happy in a way I haven’t been in years,
True happiness is accepting the tears,

I had a beautiful dream,
Of an old man who knew he was dying,
He just wanted to be real with his daughter,
So he kept trying,
On the last day of his life,
He felt death knocking,
And he convinced her,
To go with him golfing,
The daughter surprised him,
By thanking him for life,
And that’s the moment I woke up,
With tears in my eyes,

And I know that my father,
Could be closer yet,
If he had a son,
That was free to connect,
maybe it was the film I saw last night,
that’s got me sentimental,
It was called Selfless,
And an old Ben Kingsley was put into a young Ryan Reynolds,
At first you think the old man just wants to be immortal,
But by the end,
You understand that he just wants to make right with his daughter,

Or maybe it’s because,
I’ve been sober for over a month,
I had to come half way around the world,
To finally not be on the run,
It’s like coming back into a body,
That was borrowed by somebody else,
And when I finally come home,
I hope I don’t fall back into that hell,

Cause I know that I have a family,
A world that can always use fixing,
For years I blamed my sister,
For making radical decisions,
She estranged herself,
I hated that she took away her love,
But I realize I was doing the same thing,
While I was escaping into drugs,

Because I was an addict,
But now something is happening,
I used to spend my weekends,
Killing pain,
Now all I want to do,
Is hike a mountain,
And I welcome pain,
If it’s going to bring healing,
Why would I keep hiding,
From such a feeling?

And why would I hide,
From people who love me,
I used to shore them away,
Into a little plastic bag of oblivion,
Now I just want to start living again,
And listen to songs,
Like “Return to Innocence”

 

Codenames for Bad Dreams

Posted: January 3, 2017 in dreams, drugs, lyrics

All the worst girls that I ever knew
Were just codenames for bad dreams
Packet of pills and a bottle of blue
Codenames for bad dreams

You wanna live, you wanna laugh
But it’s over too soon and now you’re lost
You wanna give it to the past,
But it’s over too soon and now you’re lost

Cause you’ll never get enough
From a strange spacedust
And a stranger that you trust
When your money goes bust
And you’re holed up in a flat
With a monkey on your back
With a broken spoon handle
And the tip is turning black
And you need a new dream
But you can’t fall asleep
Cause your medicine was mixed
With a mystery….

is a narrative about narratives of historical meaning, experience or knowledge, which offers a society legitimation through the anticipated completion of a (as yet unrealized) master idea. (wikapedia)

As I study post-modern philosophy I am struck by the parallels between the (old) (faith-based) narratives such as “Christianity” and the current metanarrative of the “Enlightenment”. I suppose these parallels work like blanks which need to be filled in, and thus they reveal the underlying psyche of human thought:

We need an origin story: Christian = Genesis,
Enlightenment = Evolution/Big Bang

We need an end times/apocalypse: Christian = Revelations,
Enlightenment = Ecological collapse

We need authority: Christian = priests, kings, god
Enlightenment = scientists, rational thinking

We need a mission: Christian = repentance, purity, servitude
Enlightenment = freedom, discovery

We need to be winning: Christian = converting non-Christians
Enlightenment = eradicating non-rational thought

We need an other: Christian = demons, devils, ghosts
Enlightenment = extra-terrestrials

And now my reader may be outraged at the length my broad-stroke thought experiment has been stretched to. How does the enlightenment produce aliens? One could argue that the image of the alien or E.T. was only possible and manifested when the world conscious hit a critical mass of rational thought and technological advances made them ‘imaginable’. Basically it goes “we need ghosts” – “we don’t believe in ghosts anymore” – “obviously technological advancement is our endgame human potential so clearly there exist beings that have reached it before us”.

As a side-note, I had a long conversation one night with a friend in Taipei who was very much a ‘citizen’ of the ‘enlightenment’. By this I mean he held to the narrative that rational thought and freedom is the potential of human beings and that it will ‘solve our problems’, basically I could tell he ‘thought science was cool’. I proposed my idea that science is simply the new religion of the masses and he was outraged. He insisted I could not compare the two because one is based on facts and rationality and the other is based on faith and lies. We had a very constructive and heated debate over beers in a park into the wee hours of the night.

I don’t recall my exact counter argument, though I do recall making him aware of his emotions, how ‘into defending science’ he was and how it sounded similar to a believer defending their religion. He was even proud that his home country of England had a statistic of more than fifty percent of people being non-religious. Which only made it sound more like his side was winning a new crusade.

Also on the topic of ‘not being allowed to compare the two’ because ‘one is based on fact and the other on faith’. I find that to be a moot point. ‘Facts’ are only a legitimate currency within the metanarrative of rational thought. Just because one side doesn’t need to use that currency, does not make it impossible to compare. I can still image the Punisher fighting Dr.Strange even though one of them uses guns and the other uses magic. I constantly find ‘science-lovers’ trying to bring the scientific method into discussions about human politics, but testable objective truths have less of a place in these discussions. Our weapons here should be personal experience and imagination (with a limited amount of rational thought, I will admit, obviously).

As the reader can probably tell by now, I try not to believe in the metanarrative of the enlightenment. I find the mechanical ‘Newtonian’ view of the universe extremely boring. I find peoples ‘faith’ in science and rational thought to be dangerous and depressing. These are heretical things to say and feel. Often in groups of new (actually even among my old friends) and at work I feel like I have to ‘stay in the closet’ with my personal view of the universe. Also, since I am a ‘sensitive’ and ‘intuitive’ human, I actually find it a struggle not to fall into their narrative of ‘science is cool’ when society (advertising, media, the water-cooler) is doing it’s best to shove it down my throat.

So you may be wondering what my personal metanarrative is, am I Christian or some New Age hippie? Not quite. I do appreciate the mythos of Christianity and all faith-based traditions (and the messiah narrative resonates with me since I exist within (scientists would say ‘suffer from’) a messiah-complex). But I try to see the world as a creative process. Personally I believe I am a god, or have an energy that could be called Christ-consciousness, atman, creativity, whatever, and that I created this world (and continue to create it) in order to experience it. I am not completely soliptic, if you asked me what I thought of other people and animals I would say that they are gods too, and I realize that this muddles the term.

So to return to the start, does my metanarrative reveal the above ‘psyche’ of the human condition? Of course. My origin story is all the experiences that have crafted my current existence. My apocalypse is my death, which I imagine at times and try to keep in my consciousness as a sort of final celebration or breaking forward into another reality. Do I have an authority? (muses? other artists or creators) An other? (well I do have a strange relationship with ghosts and aliens so I don’t quite know what that means, perhaps a bleed over from the other metanarratives surrounding me).

And now I come to the end of this post and I have no idea what the point of it was. It is a far stray from my usual poetry and madness posts. Perhaps I should start a separate philosophy blog? (oh god, not another blog page) Perhaps it is best to end with a Baudrillard quote:

“We no longer seek glory, but identity.”

 

Why am I so into post-structuralist theory right now?
In Taipei I read Baudrillard’s “System of Objects”
Now I am reading “The Illusion of the End”
Tonight I takes notes on a Subway napkin
While watching a youtube video by Colt 360

“10 dollars is a piece of paper with a ten on it”
we live as fish swimming in the swarm
of reproduction without an original
suicidal goldfish removed from the gold standard
drinking standard beer labels that look like budweiser

“Now imagine your family sitcom”
you have lost me here
cute college lesbian youtube video poster
you look like the girlfriend of a friend of mine
and I have not seen a family sitcom in decades

“this is a real mug, but I am disconnected from the reality of it”
marxist late-capital production example
mug is to coffee as coffee is to day
a matter of drug and time and effort
something clever to say

“it shapes our reality based on the fake”
I did not once date Justin Bieber
I did once write a poem about his tattoos
“hyperreal becomes more real than the real”
(societal schizophrenia)

I have always thought of post-structuralism
as the poetry of social commentary
yet not as myself as a post-structuralist poet
the closest label I would drape over my persona
would be a sci-fi poet

“question grand narratives”
the enlightenment has led to totalitarianism
“the depressing nature of post-structuralism”
my poem is a micronarrative
(there is a french term for this
which I choose to remain ignorant of)