Invocation to the Sun, the Prologue to The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel (idea)
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Tue Apr 17 2001 at 10:33:18
to the Sun, the
: A Modern
, my proud mind's golden cap,
I love to wear you
, to play and burst
in song throughout our lives, and so rejoice our hearts.
Good is this earth, it suits us! Like the global grape
it hangs, dear
, in the blue air and sways in the gale,
nibbled by all the birds and spirits of the four winds.
Come, let's start nibbling too, and so refresh our minds!
in the mind's great wine vats
I tread on the crisp grapes until the wild must boils
and my mind laughs and steams within the upright day.
Has the earth sprouted wings and sails, has my mind swayed
until black-eyed Necessity got drunk and burst in song?
Above me spreads the raging sky, below me swoops
, a white gull that breasts the cooling waves;
fill with salty spray, the billows burst
swiftly against my back, rush on, and I rush after.
, who pass on high yet watch all things below,
I see the sun-drenched cap of the great castle-wrecker:
let's kick and scuff it round to see where it will take us!
Learn, lads, that Time has cycles and that
Fate has wheels
and that the mind of man sits high and twirls them round;
come quick, let's spin the world about and send it tumbling!
, my quick coquetting eye, my red-haired hound,
sniff out all quarries that I love, give them swift chase,
tell me all that you've seen on earth, all that you've heard
and I shall pass them through my entrails' secret forge
till slowly, with profound caresses, play and laughter,
shall be transformed to
and the mud-winged and heavy soul, freed of its flesh,
shall like a flame serene ascend and fade in sun.
You've eaten and drunk well, my lads, on festive shores,
until the feast within you turned to dance and laughter,
love-bites and idle chatter that dissolved in flesh;
but in myself the meat turned monstrous, thewine rose,
a sea-chant leapt within me, rushed to knock me down,
until I longed to sing this song-
make way, my brothers
lasts long, the place is small;
make way, let me have air, give me a ring to stretch in,
a place to spread my
s, kick up my heels,
so that my
won't wound your wives and children.
As soon as I let my words loose along the shore
to hunt all mankind down, I know they'll choke my throat,
and when my full neck smothers and my pain grows vast
I shall rise up- make way!- to dance on raging shores.
Snatch prudence from me, God, burst my brows wide, fling far
s of my mind, let the world breathe awhile.
, you ant-swarms, carters of grain,
I fling red
down, may the world burst in flames!
, with wild doves fluttering in your soothing breasts,
brave lads, with your black-hilted swords thrust in belts,
no matter how you strive, earth's but a barren tree,
but I, ahoy, with my salt songs shall force the flower!
Fold up your aprons, craftsmen, cast your tools away,
's firm yoke, for
Freedom, my lads, is neither wine nor a sweet maid,
not goods stacked in vast cellars, no, nor sons in cradles,
it's but a scornful, lonely song the wind has taken
Come, drink of
's brackish spring to cleanse your minds,
forget your cares
, your ignoble profits,
and make your hearts as babes, unburdened, pure and light.
O brain, be flowers that
may come to sing!
Old men, howl all you can to bring your white teeth back,
to make your hair
, your youthful
wits go wild
for by our
, I swear
old age is a false dream
all playthings of the brain and
the soul's affectations
all but a mistral's blast that blows the temples wide;
the dream was lightly dreamt and thus the earth was made;
let's take possession of the earth
with song, my lads!
, seize your oars,
the Captain comes
and mothers, give your sweet babes suck to stop their wailing!
, cast wretched sorrow out, prick up your ears-
I sing the sufferings and torments of renowned
I like it!
Mind control, ants, and parasites
You can now flame me, I am full of love
I cannot find the right words to tell her this
s t e a l y o u r b r e a t h
(because this was always subconsciously the inspiration, even if I did not know it at the time, and I only realised it just now)
We like to get together on the weekends and beat up evildoers
the virtue of the disconnect
Some thoughts about the Language of Thought
For Webster 1913, whenever I may find him
How to carve a dodecahedron out of a cube
The Yellow Wallpaper
the virtue of the disconnect
The Vandal's Myth
lies the cheesemonger told me
parting is such sweet sorrow
within normal limits
I wanted to do it again
December 12, 2018
The Picture in the House
How I Won the Tacky Christmas Gift Contest
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