Wednesday, April 30, 2025

raw poem

 (untitled)

Now things daily fail, wit droops downward,

and eloquence evaporates before the dark—

where oh where is our poet of sweet majestic rhythm

with a philosophy that satisfies the intellect?

A mind adorning logic with imagery picturesque;

of metaphor and simile as suggestions to luminous effect—

someone disposed to clothe ideas in most splendid dress, 

standing as saving grace towards a liberation’s truth—

an ear fine for its meter, imaginative and soothing in affect,

a vision delivered with pathos in the manner of artists,

speaking after prophets;

someone for when it’s impossible

to rewrite history we already know,

to compose light we still must learn.

Monday, April 28, 2025

20+ year old art someone had framed; must return to this series one day

poem

 After Edna St. Vincent Millay


O Earth I cannot hold you close enough;

the winds born of these wide blue skies,

and mists that roll and rise

upon your mountainsides this very day—

yet again at rest, sublime witness

to gaunt peak high above

awaiting with view of the sea.


O Earth, I cannot get close enough

to your glory known and pursued for this long;

that which stirs a passion to make one burst

with joy and mirth—

my spirit all but out of me in

seeking your embrace.


O Earth, let the Sun burnish your oceans

and numinous orb,

let fall your burning leaves,

let rise your various seeds,

calling every thing—

tame, wild, or in-between.


Thursday, April 24, 2025

poem

 (untitled)


Suppose you were standing in a backyard landscaped
and manicured just so—plant and bush and tree
curated to precision and flowering all about;
and you had a paperback book open in your hands
about the history of philosophy
randomly picked from a shelf indoors;
and then a special someone came out the slider
and towards you, asking what was being read,
and you replied something about the Stoics,
something about life composed
solely on what you can control and what
you can’t;

and as they reached you,
wrapping arms around your waist
to look at the text too,
then kissed your bare shoulder
and said “Truth”—wouldn’t that be it?
Wouldn’t that be supreme in meaning of this existence—
learning in a best possible way,
hot kisses later in the day.

Tuesday, April 22, 2025

old poem edited

 


Let’s Talk


Let's talk about the universe,

but not how many stars there are in our galaxy,

and how even an olympic swimming pool filled

with sand from the nearest beach

still wouldn’t hold enough grains to pair them all.


And let’s not talk about how out of all the frequencies flowing,

those visible are infinitesimal within the entire spectrum of things known. 

And let’s not talk about how quasars spew more energy in seconds

than is allowed for in our current conception of physics.

Let’s not talk about what has yet to be explained,

let’s not talk about the mystery of it all, but rather,

let’s discuss what we know to be true:

let's talk about how exquisite your pulchritude is,

and how easily you’re adored.

Let’s talk about how much I long for you.

Let's talk about hands and fingers touching skin

causing endorphins to flush into our bodies,

and the special membranes we here on Earth know as lips.

Let’s talk about what it would be like for ours to kiss.

Let’s talk about the worlds which would come into existence

from such a cosmic event.

Let’s talk about you and me

as a match made in the heavens.






Wednesday, April 16, 2025

E. A. Poe

 Poe was more than some drunk drug addict dude who wrote The Raven. He was a harsh critic who argued writing is analytical and therefore methodical, not spontaneous: most writers would shudder at showing the public something before they’re ready. Poe's conviction was that a work of fiction should be written after the author has decided how it ends and which response they wished to elicit. Once determined, all other matters of the composition—characters, settings, themes/details—are in service to what the writer/artist is dying to say about the world.

Note: new Poe bio released 3/18/25; 700+ pages: https://www.amazon.com/Edgar-Allan-Poe-Richard-Kopley

Tuesday, April 15, 2025

When the CEO of Facebook says

it's no longer centered on friends and “more of a broad discovery and entertainment space" means it's a public utility and should be turned over to the public. If you're American, just because you create something doesn't mean it's perpetually in your hands, and especially if it becomes a harm to society.


Friday, April 11, 2025

The jesuit story about the jesuits

The Jesuits in the United States
By David J. Collins SJ
Narrated by David Stifel

Listen on Audible:
https://www.audible.com/pd/B0CDCLJ6ZG?source_code=ASSORAP0511160006&share_location=player_overflow


Sent from my iPhone

Dear Diary

In the Delia Bacon book I've finally gotten to her letters between Emerson and Hawthorn, she's definitely experiencing the weight of her discovery and work, and then got news from Emerson that he lost part of her MSS. We'll see how that plays out.... The novel is coming together. It's so strange how work set to, with time, takes on a life of its own, I'm presently living the life of a writer who is entranced by what years of work can become.... Present politics and an admin getting people used to doubt about due process.... Still trying to get professors to sponsor an open student convention as the proper path of resistance.... My muse, my muse, my muse; hoping that some way some how the lightbulb goes on for her. If I had to take it to Vegas, the safe bet is that she can't wait to hear I'm dead. Time will tell.

Saturday, April 5, 2025

Youtube video of note

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7JeTqXdH7I&t=1825s


Next Door post

 it's not rude to tell someone to buzz off. you mention the "need" for applications to be same subject, yet it doesn't exist in law. where in article v does it say applications "need" to be same subject or contemporaneous? it doesn't, so in other words, the states have legally satisfied the convention clause of article v and each session of congress pretends it doesn't know what's going on and people like you believe applications "need" to be same subject, when they don't. if the function of a convention is to build consensus, why limit discussion when any idea coming out of it still has to be ratified? the convention call is based on an objective numeric count--why? so people like you have to call a convention when you don't want to. enjoy the FOAVC website. in regards to my Santa Cruz Island Adventure, yes was a legal/political action in regards to article v, and had magistrate remark in court they were unaware the states had cast sufficient applications to mandate a federal convention.

Wednesday, April 2, 2025

raw poem

 When under the spell of belief spirits go through incarnations towards being perfected and returning to the light—at some point—of course—a spirit must become divine before making it. A person who embodies a fractal of an ongoing universe, and a downturn in age means someone born in an age of decline, and like a soldier for truth, dies in the snow.


Tuesday, April 1, 2025

revised chapter excerpt

    I took the two most important plays—Hamlet and Macbeth—and translated them. Took three years to complete, where I left as much as possible unaltered, so the audience will feel like they’re experiencing Elizabethan speech but comprehend the sense of what the character is saying. Of the two plays:

    Hamlet is a character who’s life gets upended when his father is murdered, and he’s next if he doesn’t put on a disguise—an antic disposition—to baffle the murderer to keep from getting killed himself. He’s a character whose world gets corrupted, and because the world is still corrupt, means we are all Prince Hamlet—we are all figuring how to survive upon the stage of corruption.

    Macbeth is about what happens when you lose the Stoic precept of the two things in life: those that you can control, and those that you can’t, while all you can, is what you say and do. Go looking for portents, or have them set upon you through synchronicity, keep your head about the sanctity of your eternal spirit. When young king Malcom—while vetting his supporters—declares that he cares for the truth as much as life itself, means if push comes to shove—you’d die for the truth—you wouldn’t run and hide.



*



    But I didn’t want to discuss the plays or their ideas, I want to discuss how I’d never been aware there was, and still is, a controversy amongst scholars over the authenticity of authorship. Who really wrote the poems and plays under that name? Most are taught and believe the Strats—that Shakespeare was a bright young man who grew up in a riverside town some 20 miles north-west of London; which he then walked to, fell in with the theatre crowd, and wrote poems and plays while becoming owner of a stage or two. The anti-Strats believe someone else wrote the works and the person “Shaxpur”—was a stand-in.

    Back then you could suddenly be in hot water if the royal court had a change in monarch; playwriting was frowned on by those actually hanging out at court at that time. So if it wasn’t the bright young man from Stratford upon Avon, it was someone who concealed themselves because they were part of the court. Strat or anti-Strat: the author is either a bright young man who moved to the big city and found theater to declare his genius, or he was someone learned from the court of Queen Elizabeth. To slightly complicate the choice between the two, amongst anti-Strats are factions believing it to be one person or another at or near the court, some even believing it a woman writer.

   The bare facts are, the British Museum has a notebook from 1594, which contains over a thousand entries of words, phrases, salutations, turns of speech, proverbs, metaphors, aphorisms, moral/philosophical observations, drawn from Latin, French, Italian, Spanish, Hebrew and English, and it belonged to Sir Francis Bacon. It comes to us from Dr. William Rawley, who resided with Bacon the last ten years of his life. 1679 Dr. Rawley’s son gave the notebook to Dr Tenison. The Promus—or storehouse—is the notebook Bacon used during youthful journey to the French and Italian courts—where Queen Elizabeth—who rarely went to the docks—saw him off herself.

    By 1808 the notebook had made its way to the British Museum where it was first catalogued, and then discovered by a biographer who published The Life and Works of Francis Bacon in multiple volumes during the late 1850s. He selected portions, but curiously none that he and others would have immediately recognized as Shakespeare, and does not mention him even though both were alive in the same town at the same time.

    Then, 1867, another bundle of writings belonging to Bacon are found—The Northumberland Manuscript—where the names Bacon and Shakespeare appear together on a contemporary document. Variations of Bacon, Francis Bacon, Shakespeare, and William Shakespeare are hand-written across its cover—two years before Shakespeare was publicly known as a playwright.

    Then, 1883, a scholarly work reproduced a full transcript of the notebook—noting hundreds of passages and sentiments which later appear in the plays of Shakespeare. To an impartial mind it was and still is to this day confirmation beyond doubt that Bacon used his Promus for later works.

   Then, 1938, is discovery of Shakespeare’s 1587 edition of Holinshed's Chronicles, a vast history of Britain and source material for the plays, and what Strats claim as proof, that a bright young man from Stratford read it and conjured the plays. That particular copy came to us from a descendent of the printer who first printed Shakespeare’s plays, and seeing notes in the margins, surmised it had been Shakespeare’s own personal copy. A scholar of that day then put the copy of Holinshed’s Chronicles alongside The Northumberland Manuscript and said a glance by anyone shows the book and the document belonged to the same person.

    Then there is the earliest manuscript of a Shakespeare play, discovered in the library of an antiquarian who was patronized by Lady Anne—Francis Bacon’s mother. A five act play representing it as originally composed, before showing up as two separate plays in the publication of the first folio—which was published with sixteen plays which hadn’t previously been published, along with another twenty which already had, for a total of thirty-six—divided into Comedies/Histories/Tragedies, and published five years after the death of someone who didn’t own a book and never sent a letter, even though living twenty miles from a source of income in an age where letter-writing was voluminous. All Shakespeare’s contemporaries, zillions of letters—him? Not one.

    Many would say, OK, Bacon is Shakespeare—big deal—he couldn’t put his name to them—at least we got some memorable works.