goes without saying
goes without staying
goes without speaking
goes without seeking
goes without hearing
goes without steering
goes without anything
but nothing can go
nothing's quite willing
to stand on their own
to recognize truth
as something innate
to recognize living
as own quite its purpose
don't know what to write
don't know how to ride
don't know to begin
I need to begin
isn't there another book?
this is not Christian
it's quite Platonian
if not Platonic
the utmost detached
the utmost in theory
utmost in griplessness
utmost in speech-laden intellect-poisoned BS
as if the beginning would have needed a word
the only word worth speaking
would be hitch-hiking the galaxy far later just only
no, my dearest,
there was no word
not the least spoken
in the beginning
only Glass and Rig Veda perhaps
enter the symphony 5! (and not that by Haydn, who knows that one, anyhoo)
taa taa taa humpty dumpty humpty dumpty humpty dumpty humpty dumpty
taa taa taa humpty dumpty humpty dumpty humpty dumpty humpty dumpty
taa ta ta taa ta ta taa ta ta
tatata tatata tatata tatata tatata tatata ta ta ta ta ta ta ta ta
yada yada yada yada
there was neither non-existence nor existence then
there was neither realm of space nor the sky which is beyond
yes, what stirred?
the Cannibal hath spoken!
the cannibal feasting on human intellect deficient
using his own, soul-deficient, monster of coldest intelligence!
see him be eaten by hogs, perhaps, I dear you (but by then, we'd all have grown such a sympathy for the poor Hannibal that is just the even poorer Mr. Hopkins, having refused English noblesse for coming to America, and rooting against the evil, depraved, mutilated, even more sadistic fucker (literally! at least in the past), the poor Mr. Verner, and give him, in turn, over to the pigs, thanks, Mr. Zimmer, for such a beautiful score, what you've done with Strauss(Jr.)'s perfectly decadent little valse is now so much better and lacking in duration what it makes up in cruelty and deviance, hell, this is it! the revenge of the so-called entartung, slaying the sly, slaying convention, but have you GOT to be so brutal and drastic? the blood? our little kids! they should not suffer such sights, it makes them evil, so Blame Canada! the Cannibal of all that is abundant and deviant and brutal and injust in America. White Ameriqaaaaaa! Remember little Eric and little Eriqaaaaaa! oops, words just slipped out my mouth
words just slipped
ta ta fucked now
or did that go differently?
en archê ên ho logos
how the frell do people always believe language would equate thinking!
they just don't any more know how to think
how to think with your lower regions
with your dick or your cunt
with your blood deep down and your eyes turned outward in
and inward out and your mind
going totally insane
insane in the brain
no, insane in the membrane!
we're entertainers for the stupid,
ain't that right
but not for the stupid unable to read
and not for the stupid unable to learn
(just cause, little funny note on the side,
there wouldn't be money even to clothe or to feed them)
no, it's for the stupid who's able to read
but reads not for knowledge and self-inquisition
let your thoughts be your own good-cop-bad-cop-game!
let you be your own, most cruel, inquisition!
ta ta - yes, we're back! and meaner than ever!
What stirred? Where? In whose protection?
Was there water, bottomlessly (short pause for mere deepening effect) deep?
There was neither death nor immortality (the THEN is left out for matters of protocol)
There was no (distinguishing, to be precise) sign of night nor of day.
That One breathed, windless, by Its own impulse.
Other than that there was nothing beyond.
yodel ching-duh! yodel ching-duh! yodel ching-duh! yodel ching-duh!
ta ta ta ta ya da ya da
ta taa taa ta
ta taa taa ta
(y'all know that Glassy tune of things, of course) ya da ya da
Darkness was hidden by darkness in the beginning,
with no sign, all this was water.
The life force that was covered by emptiness,
That One arose through the power of heat
ta taa taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam you know the drillholes
drills the energy with might
into the deepest stony phoney stoned rock-bottom
lets no reason neither might
just stand beside
and stand in sight
they're drilling holes
they're drilling holes in Duane Barry's teeth!
and through the heat
through the power of heat
the heat in the system
the heat and the pounding
and pounding so sounding
and sounding astounding
I'm kidding just now, I'm sorry, almost,
I know the topic's a serious one
and words that uttered concerning religion
should not be taken lightly just so, as it seems,
and I shouldn't make fun of things,
or criticize things in utterly cynical ways
that seem important to so many people
well, this well-spring of all, the words that form
the thoughts and the wishes
the serious dogma and serious knowledge
and serious complexions and serious kneeling
who am I t' be saying these things
who am I
who do I think I am
inter omnes, inter voces
inter tanta omnia deiecta
panta tôi en hois tois logois
hois tois logois aristois
presto, mi amici,
isn't this related to pathos as well?
could it maybe be pathetic even?
shall I try a treatise here?
TREATISE ON PATHOS
Pathos. Greek. Noun, masculine. Singular. Root: pat-, path-. Related is the Latin pati, to suffer, endure, alas, the patient. Nowadays, the patience with pathos is declining, it is often perceived as pathetic. The Lord of the Rings is pathetic pathos, lacks irony. Irony is the prime enemy of pathos. Pathos is the prime victim of irony. Notung, made of the strongest iron, destroyed by Wotan's staff when in the possession of Siegmund, destroys, remade and carried by Siegfried, son of Siegmund, great-son of Wotan, remade under the guidance of Wotan, the wanderer, destroys Wotan's staff, quasily-emasculating the god/father, by that one's own volition! Wotan having a vasectomy by the hands of his grandson who is about to conquer the death-demon, the Wal-küre, the god's daughter - isn't this ironic? (at least, related to iron it is) or is it pathetic? Siegfried carries the ring, stolen by the fallen creature, Alberich-Smeagol-Gollum, and Mine wanted to have it! the dragon had to be slain! ascended he had, Fafner, mayor of Sunnydale, by the power of the ring, and Mine wanted to have it! Mine, mine precious! Professor Chaos has seized Backdoor Sluts Nine! Eleven years old, maybe, fourth grade in this redneck mountain town. The two towers destroyed by the Ring? What is this heresy? Who carries the Ring? Bring back! Sing it Back! the Rheingold to Mount Doom and unmake your fate. This is your destiny. This is your pathos. Ironic pathos, to return to us in the age of Buffy and poor, dear John Crichton! The human is superior! Like stung by a Scorpius, scarring the peace, the peace of mind, find me the peace-keepers, Officer Sun! Giving us peace! Da pace, signora, hail Jasmine, my precious! No wolf, ram & hart shall spike this here up, the soul of an angel is all that shall save us, to help the helpless, white night in satin armor, saving Cinderella again, wants she be saved? Much with the damseling? For save herself she just can't? And, furthermore, how can we be sure whether she's saved? Well-behaved, or just another dirty girl devoid of serenity? Chastity! Abstinence! Mind over matter! Death before life! p align is justify! p for pathos, paragraphed life, paragraphed knowledge, patient experience, pathos controlled and quite but infected with all that controls us and all that wants subjugate, all that wants emanate not but wants imamate imminent imitate art, imitate life, doesn't life but imitate art? the choices made in the West Wing, the problems discussed there on KACL talk radio? Frasier Spiffy Crane to the rescue! let the babbling psycho therapy your life! Freude! Jungsein! Frommheit! Reichtum! Gruen behind your ears - and eyes, and hands, and mouth, and nose, spirit? Zeus is the spirit, the atman, the semen in the wind! Gone, he can't seed us any longer, Prometheus quite made sure of this. For he took the fire out of the spirit and made it a tool just to use as material. And now, what but have we? Spirit-less, fire-less, babble-talk aiming for solid constructions and solid-made discourse once flowing so freely and flowing so dearly and WHAT do we see and WHY do we fear and WHERE are we going and HOW do you live and WHO do you trust? But trust's in the spirit, and trust's in the feeling, the pathos, the eidôla, all in ideas, all in the specters, all in the words that represent not, that do not just mimic, that do but create! Representative Men! Representative Women! Representative Cats! That do but create! Truest, all poiêsis, truest, all genesis! Can it be true? All I rejected, all I abjected, coming now back, intruding here quite, not through the front door but to the rear-end of it? In the beginning the word made heaven and earth and the word, the spirit of creation, is just called by the name of God, and God is existence battling non-existence and non-existence battling existence! And the path is to feel all that is there, patiently? impatiently? not without pathos, I dear you, I beg you! Reclaim you the fire that stole once Prometheus, reclaim your own deity, dearest Euhemeros, tried you not show us, Gods once were humans? Humans were Gods - gods now in ruins? And here lies the heresy, herein we find it: I Am The Lord Thy God And Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Beside Thee? Oh, there are plenty of gods, and more, goddesses right around me! Shan't we behave like that? reclaim our power, reclaim our authority, and see our commitments? Responsibility, god as creation, creation as god? or as goddess? (maybe now I am possessed by that woman sitting in the corner, I don't know what to make of her, how to approach her, if ever, - so radiant, thoughtful and feeling a glance? But I am too hesitant, I am an animal that feels not like dying but rather like being quite dead already for the outside.) There's Aragorn looking at me from the jacket of a bottle containing non-heavy Pepsi. The king quite to be - how I hate that awe-demanding, fake and quite naked authority! Respect my authoritaaaaaaaaaaay, sayeth the little Eric, the Cart-man! It is words quite that made Middle Earth, and have seen you the Ring? There's words that are rotating, burning inside it - one ring to burn them all - and keep them out of the Wal-hall, the palace of gods - so it's just right it needs to be thrashed, so that we can rise out of its ruins. Power rising from ruins may be quite different from that rising out of shiny, happy palaces. People traveling through ruins may still smell that stale breath of power auctorial, power demanding and power imperial. divid' imperaque! divided and conquered we are, estranged from the body, estranged from the soul, and all this poor pathos shall cede here for now.
Desire came upon That One in the beginning,
that was the first seed of mind.
Poets seeking in their heart with wisdom found
the bond of existence in non-existence.
of course there's more here, need to stop it,
need to cut it, cut it out, and cut it down
Whence this creation has arisen -
perhaps it formed itself, or perhaps it did not -
and at the end,
in the beginning,
in utter cacophony
it is a word!
it is the substance
it's the thing that makes us go
it's the key
the key to life
to the dawning of life after maddening night
in the words
that substance mean
in these words
these words of all
see the meaning
see the means
see the memes
see the mean and mighty maker
there's no maker
but the stuff itself
see the substance
reveal the creation
see the creation
reveal it's substance
on voyages eternal
in moments so hidden
removed by façades
but mimicked in artifices
truth so hidden
and in myths
// / //
// // //
et logos fuit verbum
et in verbo
habemus in absentia
pro salvatione nostrum
pro sensu vitae nostrum
pro anima nostrum
pro spiritu nostrum
de parentibus nostrum
pro filibus nostrum
nunc et in saecula saeculorum
qui es in verbo
sanctifactus nomen tuum
patificetur regnum tuum
quaesumus voluntatem tuam
sicut in vita et in verbis
panem nostrum cotidianum nos damus hodie
et dimittimus nobis peccata nostra
sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris
et ne nos inducamus in tentatione
sed liberamus nos
vita est vita
neque pro verbo
neque pro deo
logos is hybris
life's all there is