Thursday, June 14, 2012

Kali Yuga, Poets and... I don't know.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

(thank god for Origami. I definitely need to be here right now-grin-)

I have to tape that Red Ice radio show today so I am getting this started while I wait for sleep to come.

If you really, really want something you get it. If you want it for the purity and beauty of what it is, it will take its clothes off in front of you. Real poets never get rich but the best expressions that Lady Nature can work her way into coming out for find their way into their beds. All real poets get tired of that early. They only want Lady truth to knock on their door and ask them if they are kind to strangers. Then she takes off her clothes and the world disappears.

It is a hard struggle in the aftermath because the world comes back again and truth puts her clothes back on. There isn't one of us to whom it happened that can remember what took place between the unveiling and recovering. People don't really read history, or if they do, their glasses fog up. Take the case of Richard Lovelace. I suspect almost no one here knows that story. Some of you might know his name and some of you might know that enduring poem he wrote. I'll put it here-

From Prison.
Song.
Set by Dr. John Wilson.

I
WHEN Love with unconfined wings
Hovers within my Gates ;
And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at the Grates ;
When I lye tangled in her haire
And fettered to her eye ;
The Gods that wanton in the Aire,
Know no such Liberty.

II
When flowing Cups run swiftly round
With no allaying Thames,
Our carelesse heads with Roses bound,
Our hearts with Loyall Flames ;
When thirsty griefe in Wine we steepe,
When Healths and draughts go free,
Fishes that tipple in the Deepe,
Know no such Libertie.

III
When (like committed linnets) I
With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetnes, Mercy, Majesty,
And glories of my KING ;
When I shall voyce aloud, how Good
He is, how Great should be ;
Enlarged Winds that curle the Flood,
Know no such Liberty.

IV
Stone Walls do not a Prison make,
Nor Iron bars a Cage ;
Mindes innocent and quiet take
That for an Hermitage ;
If I have freedome in my Love,
And in my soule am free ;
Angels alone that sore above,
Injoy such Liberty.


Everyone has heard about Rumi but how many know about his life? Or Omar Khayyam, with whom I am singularly familiar in a very personal way. How many know that he went to school with the man who became the Grand Caliph and The Old Man of the Mountains, Hassan-i Sabbah, from whose name comes the word 'assassin'? How many know Hassan's story? That is very interesting; should you get the comprehensive version. The tales and wonders of the past should be sufficient to grant the intelligent inquisitor (inquisitor! The horror! The horror! Cue Marlon Brando or Joesph Conrad, I don't care) ample evidence for adequate faith to survive anything, yea, even prosper.

I don't particularly like Rumi's work. I never have. A friend of mine wrote a bestseller about him called The Illuminated Rumi. Well, he was a friend, like I said but I haven't seen him in decades. I know he must be a fantastic poet but it doesn't work on me. What the hell, we're in honesty mode... then there are poets I detest, like Alan Ginsberg, who I met on several occasions and the dislike was mutual. He hadn't ever met or even heard about me when a New York publisher brought me up to, or down to him, depending on your perspective... and the publisher said to Alan, “I'd like you to meet Les Crook, one of the finest poets I know...” and before the publisher could finish saying what he was saying, The Ginz said, “Don't waste my time, I already don't like him”. I was a little surprised though nonplussed but the publisher was astonished. He said, “I've never had that happen before”. Then he made me feel better as we walked away. He's gone now. Him and his loyal dog, Joe, who hung on for 18 years to be around him. He put his arm around me and kind of squeezed me up against him and said, “Don't worry about it. That's proof you must be pretty fucking good”. I still laugh sometimes when I think about it. It never came to anything but... it is Kali Yuga and I didn't come here to be a poet. That's just the train that brought me to this station.

Of course, there's Rod McKuen, the gay, cowboy poet, who tapped some junkie vein in the flabby arms of all those Staten Island Ferry, secretaries putting on their makeup in the big open air women's room on their way to the financial district. There's versions of that everywhere and they probably are the same girls who just love Barry Manilow. The obvious irony here does not need to be fleshed out. Rod McKuen made more money in one year than probably all of the truly great poets that preceded him; again, Kali Yuga.

Back to the positive, ♫accent the positive, eliminate the negative and don't mess with Mr. In between♫ Like I wasn't saying or will probably get around to. Life appears to be unfair; according to what? I happen to know that everyone getting fucked over now was doing the fucking over last time. Lots of people aren't comfortable with that. They don't get Karma and they don't get Kali Yuga. Well some do and some don't. I know there are various people who want access to things I have done, written or collaborated on, with Frater Patrick W. or others and can't find them, get them for free, purchase them; want that thing there and this thing here. Sometimes I can find them and sometimes not. On two separate occasions, two different hard drives failed and each time those were specifically where the music was kept; if music it be; Kali Yuga. I actually lost things that have yet to be discovered again. So, it isn't easy finding things if they are determined to disappear. There are old cassettes, do they work anymore? Miles of video wanderings through streets and seascapes, VCR relics in a box in the dark basement room below. I never got around to making them digital. They'll probably just wind up at the dump some day. There are early transmissions concerning the way to the kingdom but they may or may not be of use, given how many times I have lost my way again since; Kali Yuga.

I woke up this morning after several nights without sleep, more refreshed than I might have expected, since it took until four in the morning and a bottle of Campari to accomplish it. Four or so hours was apparently enough. Interestingly, this morning, Susanne says to me, as I have made my way down to the kitchen for tea, something along the lines of asking if I can feel it. It has something to do with the sky being higher and clear. Indeed the sun is shining after many a day of rain.

Before I came down, I went to the computer and noticed an email from this Kumbh Mela company that I had contacted last year, telling me about their rates and so on. It seems tent living among the many, is as pricey as the best hotels. I'm thinking do I really want to be around the largest spectacle of it's kind, when I don't like crowds in the first place? So I cyber-wander around Rishikesh and figure that if I do this thing, it will probably be more like this, with Arunachala and maybe the stations of Lord Ganesha as further ons in a kind of walkabout, while not actually heading in any of these directions, just passing through, moving light, cause it is the dark of the night; Kali Yuga.

So, just now, Susanne disappears. Someone is at the door, something to do with electricity, dogs are going off. I am reduced to cobbled together German, talking to only German speaking and I just take the guy to the downstairs apartment and hand him over to the lady who has been living there in recent times. I hear conversations through the window; nothing to do with me, the mother still sleeps in her bedroom and this part of the world goes on and not much of it has anything to do with me. Conditions are pleasant, except for the terrifically bad feng shui of this poorly designed monstrosity house, full of the possessions of the dead. There's something that just doesn't connect with much of anything around me here. It is like I was placed in a certain time zone, culture bucket, to do no more than what you have seen occur on these pages ...but it is evident to me that I will soon be gone somewhere, in a kind of 'no harm, no foul' way of amicable departures and bon voyage. To where?

Last week I had a bad event. I was mostly alone for a couple of days, except for the care of the mother and the dogs and it cycled all the way up to this morning, when it just kind of went away, being replaced by doorbells, landlines, cellphones going off and brisk comings and going of all kinds not having anything to do with me; world in transition, Kali Yuga. I was a devotee of Kali for awhile. Hindu posters of her abounded on my walls and I would see her in meadows and forests, the Shiva Shakti thing going off the hook. I'm not so focused on the black mother for some time. She has changed her relationship to me; more Saraswati now. All those gods and goddesses, all the same being, all very real, in whatever particular aspect he/she/it may present in. Some people have difficulty with all that. I have no problem with it. I could, at any time, be Christian, Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist... it's all the same God. It's a matter of taste. God presents in the form most accommodating to the needs and desires of those for whom God appears.

The cracking of the Chinese economy should prove interesting, given that they are the ones who came up with, “may you live in interesting times”. I couldn't even venture a guess. The divine has intentionally led me to predict things just so I could see them not happen. You will note that we are now about to go into that half of this year where a whole lot of those interesting things are going to happen. I get the strange suspicion that those who have put their reliance upon material culture and those who have flat out feasted and inhaled like reavers and siphons, are going to be the most disappointed. Those of us that never had much anyway might not even notice the difference, then again, it depends on whether you are one of those who never had much but still wish with all your might that you could get it. Those who got it might interest some in this intriguing slideshow. Sometimes bad things happen to rich people but more usually to their pets.

It's been a truly strange period for me but that's all about to change now. I have no idea of how, or why, or where. It's going to be one of those things that just appear out of the air, the way this one did and I knew that was coming, was even announcing it for some months beforehand. All in all, this segment has been better than the rest, mostly cause of the company and also the decency of the people in the area, however truculent and provincial they may be. I hear this next step is going to be much better, more suited to my needs than my having been suited up for everyone else's needs.

Once again, I'm saying these things, using my own life as an example, because I'm not The Lone Ranger here. Many of you will find the same thing coming around in this time of change and transition. It's for the best, however it may appear initially. Okay, time for Luke to get his mind right. “You got your mind right yet Luke”. You ain't gonna be backsliding now, are you”? No, I won't; speaking of getting my head into the frame for this Red Ice Radio show that I tape this early evening. Okay then, just keep on chopping that wood and carrying that water till we get to flow our of Shiva's hair and down to the Ganges.


End Transmission.......

45 comments:

zepheri said...

"flow like water"
Bruce Lee

Anonymous said...

Excellent post, Les. You mentioned Ginsburg, who was a creep. "Howl" is essentially a Tribe rant, coated with politics, at being genetically misfit in a world where they wouldn't survive without Goyim to feed on.

In his poem "Seder" he is at his mother's deathbed and wonders if she wants to have sex with him. Later, he sold his raincoat and sneakers from the '50s to some Beat Museum in Manhattan for hundreds of thousands of dollars. Neil Cassidy's wife, Caroline, in her bio "Off The Road" said Ginsburg was the most materialistic person she ever met.

The Beats were creeps. Caroline came home from work early one afternoon and found Ginsburg buggering her husband on the couch in their San Fran apartment. Cassidy and Kerouac were bisexual. Burroughs was queer and picked up male street prostitutes. Imagine your counter-culture heroes buggering each other at cheap wine parties in roachy Manhattan apartments....

Charles Bukowski, the real deal in my opinion, disliked Ginsburg. Thought him phoney.

I used to think the Beats were damn cool until I learned their details. Of course, when you boil the sap down you come to the dregs and find The Tribe there every time, promoting degenerates as cutting edge. See John Kaminski's video "The Destabilization Template".

You mention Kali Yuga several times. I haven't seen a honey bee yet this summer around here. Something big is closing in for sure.

Looking forward to hearing your Red Ice interview.

Take care, my friend.

Dave, on the East Toast.

Clarity said...

My two favorite writers... both happen to be writer/poets. Poetry never used to interest me much. I didn't get poems. I still don't get many of them. But just recently, some poetry has become very important to me. I have always loved to read, and many things I've read have affected me emotionally; I've had a good cry from a number of reads. Sometimes laughter, fear, inspiration, celebration... But never, until a few months ago, have I been so strongly touched by writing, that I can feel it physically in my heart. It is truly a most precious gift. I am so thankful to have experienced something this powerful and profound, and I know without a doubt who had a hand in making it happen.

"If you really, really want something you get it. If you want it for the purity and beauty of what it is, it will take it's clothes off in front of you."

Oh, I want something all right. My two poets. I want them both, in different ways. I love them both, in different ways. Yet my love and my wanting are the same. Both are about the purity and beauty of what they are, and both are all about me and discovering who I am, and about love - pure love, and about finding my way back home. Divine - a perfect word as both a noun and adjective.

I hope you are right, Visible, and not just for me, but for all the beauty and goodness and love that will come from me getting what I want, to be spread and shared with many.

Thank you...
Love,
~Clarity

Anaughty Mouser said...

Listening to what you're saying.

Respects

Anonymous said...

Dave, on the East Toast,

I second your view of the Beat-creeps. An unappealing bunch of tribe crypto-functionaries.

Though late in his life Kerouac had some serous regrets about the the whole ride.

Mandocello

Lee said...

This is the worst period of my life as so it appears, Les. I'm homeless and living in my car, again. Kali Yuga

I had to get out of that toxic and dangerous place. (sister's house)

So, I wrote a poem to share my thoughts. I call it "Mona Lisa Smile".

I saw the face of evil in a house of darkness.

From the Mona Lisa Smile to the face of utter guile.

With red and swollen eyes she made no effort to disguise
the darkness from within
Her Lord, her evil twin

She fools the world for all to see
and is happy as can be
But her candle cannot hold
For her show is sure to fold.

Lee

Anonymous said...

kerouac was the goy decoy...the handsome front man for the uglies. the trojan horse to get inside the mind of america and unload the creeps, users and literary opportunists.

hmmmm...what else? kerouac was the sad drunk who couldn't quite grasp the manipulation of the cunning linguists that promoted and profited from his work.

and ginsburg...a golem made of jealousy...a miserable creature from the underworld of mad mothers, mildewed wool and utter love-less-ness.

all so pretty. in another 10 years or less the whole movement will just be dust and dismantled agendas.
a queer little episode in american history.

liz (musing aloud in l.a.)

Dammerung said...

So wait. All the Palestinians you love so dearly are only getting fucked because they were Nazis in a past life? Hell; all's well with the world then.

Odin's Raven said...

Off topic, but here's a nice review of the personalities behind 911
http://www.lostscribemedia.com/news/911-israels-masterpiece/

Anonymous said...

Mandocello @ 5:34:

Kerouac realized that the Beat movement had been hijacked, that it was a destabilization operation. He was highly intelligent, despite his apparently undisciplined "streaming" and neologisms. I think that's why he drank himself to death in his mother's basement. In despair.

The Beat movement was genuine. It arose out of disgust with the Second World War and the nascent consumerism and control by corporations. It was endemic, like the "biker" movement in SoCal (vide the Hollister Riot, 1948).

Male homosexuality is a weakness. No dignified, healthy man "enjoys" being penetrated or, PUKE, eating another man's seed.

Kerouac was on some TV show in the mid-60's, maybe Jack Parr, and denounced the Beats and the new hippies as "Communists". This was the groping accusation term of the day for Jews injecting their viruses into the body social and cultural.

I suggest you read Eustace Mullins' "The Biological Jew." It's a pamphlet of 40 pages. More than anything I've read it nails the essence of the Jew.

Dave

neil said...

Me too lord visible,I don't consider myself a poet either,I just love writing them and always will.....I don't really know much about the other poets either,,although some of their stuff that they did are deeply deeply beautiful tremendous works of art,,,,
That are much appreciated,forever
I would say some of these poets may of been visiting the sublime pure land at a guess,,,

I love the sublime pure land,it' sounds like a very very nice place,,maybe all of us humans should try to visit,,,,,
You never know it may get us out of this Kali yuga Polava trouble thing,,,,,,,

Anyway loyal dog crazy person says,,,come on people let's drag ourselves out of this mess,,,,,
Turning the beautiful divine sacred living earth into a toilet is stupid,,,,,,,
And will probably have dire results

Big smile and respect.....

Anonymous said...

If a person eventually rises to the status of being a star in today's world - something that is impossible to do without the persistent urging of the mainstream media - that person is part of a larger agenda. It doesn't matter who it is. It's impossible to rise to that status unless the mainstream media blasts the Chosen One's name all over their media conduits. And the MSM won't do that unless the Puppet Masters give their personal stamp of approval to the "star" in question. So whether it's Ginsburg, or Kerouac, or - hell, anybody of note - that's just the way it goes. The real stars - people like Wilhelm Reich and Royal Raymond Rife and a host of others whose deeds and discoveries went largely unnoticed - they get the shaft and are shown the door and if they object and continue to try to get the word out, far worse happens to them. If a person has something truly important to say, if they have a discovery that will benefit mankind enormously, if they can put words together in such a way as to wake people up and hasten their escape from the prison - those people have historically been crucified, literally and figuratively. If a person is heralded as The Next Great Whatever, that person is not as advertised and anyone would do well to think twice about who is doing the advertising here, and who owns those advertising conduits. The Elite will never willingly hand us the keys to higher consciousness; they will never hand us Great Truths. That shit is buried in libraries under the Vatican and in the vaults and personal libraries of the super rich families who have ruled behind the scenes for thousands of years. Knowledge is power and they maintain the illusion of power because they have the (higher) knowledge. And damned if they will give it to us willingly, via Rod McKuen, or Eckhart Tolle, or Dr. Wayne W. Dyer, or JZ Knight/Ramtha, or Martin Luther Freaking King or a host of other "Stars Who Are Bringing You Personal Liberation We Swear to God", whose central ideas were created in a think tank somewhere, funded with our tax dollars, and passed off to us via the Elite-owned MSM - with complete and utter malice aforethought.

bodhati said...

Visible,

(for what it's worth) Aside from Gibran's 'the prophet'.... I have yet to read something as good as your 'Strive'

-Kyle

bodhati said...

For what it's worth Visible, I have yet to read anything as awe inspiring as your 'Strive'.....aside from Gibran's 'The Prophet' That's pretty good company. Take care friend.

-Kyle

Visible said...

This is all too strange. I just finished taping the two Red Ice Radio show segments and then I see these comments, well....

Kerouac is just like any of us, Neil Cassidy, myself, struggling with shit. Jack drank himself to death down in Alabama or somewhere around those parts. He certainly did not like Mr. Kosher Inc at the end but we all come up against it. All those doors are closed to me, for the moment and that's how it is, at least we get to do what we get to do.

Skype wouldn't work with Red Ice, we had to go to the phone. Skype works fine as long as I'm not doing something like this. Cockblocked in all directions (grin). Kali Yuga, well there will be a few changes soon.

I spared you the extended loathsome effervescence of The Ginz anyway.

Visible said...

By the way Kyle, thank you for that. Strive came right from the heart.

Kyle Kendall said...

Visible,

For what it's worth, aside from Gibran's 'The Prophet', I have yet to read something as supreme as your 'Thrive' and 'Hare Krishna'. Take care friend.

(I have transferred your updated comment to the page)- vis

Skepticfrog said...

Anon/Dave@3:42
FYI: You won't see any bees.
GMO corn is killing them. GMO Corn is now everywhere in the US.
Poland has just outlawed the Monsanto evil seeds for this very reason; an obvious, unambiguous connection was made there between GMO corn and disappearance of bees.

neil said...

Expanding consciousness Vibrates in unity
vastness of the circle of all that is contained
beauty concentrates the liberating vehicle
A brush along the path of all things change
Life consumes and pulls the rivers through humanity
A hearts dynamic pulsates drums of ancient ways
Starlight wove in dreaming medicine
At the gates of true hearts blaze

..peace..

Have a small poem lord visible,, : )

Stella Blue said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Anonymous said...

Just as soon as the Beat Movement got it's kosher seal of approval-- via 'Howl'-- things slowly went downhill for Kerouac.

Mandocello

Visible said...

Torus, I'm assuming you are speaking out of this one particular lifetime right? Given that perspective I guess I can see where you are coming from.

neal said...

Thus spoke Tonto. Was that both sides playing the middle, or the middle at least making the last train, the first, on time?

Or do only the made not make this stuff up, and stay for just one night, knowing is a gift for the One even those bright blue ones bow, I don't know why.

She tells me answers are made up, questions keep the real middle alive, and that is some art of war.

Those bright blue ones, they are also looking at the same footprints, and some questions are very broadband.

They maybe are tired of being made up, and are seeking that pat on the back, the one that is the middle between faith and reason. That part is common throughout the realms, even holy, and demonic, small things, that grow.

It is hard to hunt, or be hunted, when you really can make or erase what is broadcast. That does not make this any easier, or less sneaky, quite the middle where that gets played out.

The maker of all this is just a little concerned, I tried to stay neutral, but deals have been made, and it is worthy of worship, and war.

Well, lots have been cast, as of late.

I hope you feel that touch, the one that transmits the Love of Christ, even if you have to hide it for judgement, that is making things justified, and clear, and very hard to take, knowing that hammers know nails, you know.

I hope you will be seeing it, you cannot ignore some forms of transportation, only fly, or be tied up in some kind of knots, now that is funny, but that is just knots, not really part of the deal.

Old pottery shards, fused glass, passages up and down, and all the hidden evidence you will ever need, even to the crazy ones. No excuses, just invitations, and something that is very easy to do, little ones do it all this time, just for memory of what should not be ignorance of the real deal.

Be careful of what is asked, answers can be unavoidable, sort of.

Denny said...

Anonymous 7:50:00 PM

Very well put.

Re: Wilhelm Reich...

Check out how "Sally-Ann" wrote a scathing comment on Reich over at PD. Again, I smell a rat.

-----------------

Extreme weather threatening the UK due to Very low pressure in the Atlantic... Must have been that "Russian ICBM".

----------------

Vis, I don't know how you do it. I'm falling asleep simply trying to keep up with your posts and all the accompanying comments. Maybe I should get myself a bottle of Campari instead of the usual organic "Fruit Kicks" that clearly aren't kicking enough.

All very much appreciated.

Richie (Dana) said...

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Anonymous said...

I was once a serious Burroughs fan,(my friends & I viewed Ginsburg as a coat-tail riding, poseur who latched onto Bill's vision)
Years later, it occurred that he might be barking up some seriously wrong trees,though I still share some of the same old (obvious) general concerns;mass mind control,enviormental degradation,etc.
I still think his dark, comedic,portrayal of insane men in positions of power to be a good approximation of what might really be going on...
I will admit,that the idea that he might've been a bit of a jerk,doesn't surprise me either....
-DreAmeoba

Anonymous said...

pierre said (Gopher mode)

http://marucha.files.wordpress.com/2010/06/eustace-mullins-the-biological-jew.pdf

interesting comments towards the end from the 'publisher' of this YT video re an unprecedented (according to him) monent of friction between the two presenters (Rense and Rifat).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHxQJ1wQVUA

it's so hard to know where to look or whom to trust, bar the ONE (and I don't mean you Vis - or me ).

Anonymous said...

Interestingly enough, Jack Kerouac's "On the Road" mentioned his literary pal Old Bull Lee and his "orgone accumulator" (the Bull Lee character was modeled on William Burroughs). Burroughs actually had such a device (inspired entirely by the work of Wilhelm Reich) in his own home and made mention of it numerous times in his own written works...Reich, in case you didn't know, was a pioneer in the field of orgone energy. He was railroaded by TPTB over a great many years, until finally he was jailed on trumped-up charges and died in a U.S. Federal prison (just a few days before he was due to apply for parole) where he was doing a two-year stretch for "failing to comply with court orders which prohibited his activities". In August of 1956, several tons of his books, journals and papers were ceremoniously burned in an incinerator in New York's Lower East Side by the FDA. (Subtextual message: "There is no orgone energy...there is no orgone energy...and if you think there is, we'll come after you next".) Which ties in with the post I made earlier regarding how nobody but nobody becomes famous unless the Elite want it that way - and there is hell to pay if you have anything of true value to offer the masses, and have the audacity to try and pass it along for the good of humankind. Wilhelm Reich was living proof of that truism - and he embodies it even more so today, especially after TPTB murdered him.

onething said...

Well, I like Rumi but Hafiz is even better. Best divine poet that ever lived.

Anonymous said...

For the bees:
If you have not seen this:
http://www.care2.com/causes/research-firm-blames-monsanto-for-bee-deaths-so-monsanto-buys-it.html

Only slightly off topic, I beg your pardon.

FWIW

Ray B. said...

Visible, Thursday, June 14, 2012 1:39:00 AM (on PD)

"Ray, I'm sorry if I haven't answered you yet. This is the 3rd night I haven't slept..."

I understand. Sometimes the energies just get 'weird'. Or, is it spelled 'wired'? (grin)

---

On Wilhelm Reich: I read a few of his books, long ago. (By the way, orgone energy is real; I can feel it.) I had the feeling he was 'horizontalized' primarily because he was listening to the body, and had discovered the inherent 'power' within the orgasm. Wicca-types had known this for centuries (and been nearly exterminated for it), but Reich was on the brink of giving it scientific respectability. That could not be tolerated. Transporting orgone devices across state lines was just a convenient 'legal' way to take him down.

Case in point: Back in 1999, Liz and I went to Ireland. As part of the trip, we met Lady Olivia Robertson. She is a magickal priestess (and is now approaching her 100th Birth Day). She was a part of and knew many of the old British "Golden Dawn" types. They were 'notorious' in those prudish days for using sexuality in their power-raising rituals.

I was MOST impressed with the energies pouring off of her. She seemed like a light bulb. Just in going about her business, not in any trance or ritual. When I asked her about that, she said it was her kundalini having been awakened. She has the most energy streaming off of her of any living human that I've seen so far (not counting entities coming through channels). Wow. She seems like the genuine article.

(She is living more in the other worlds than this one. So if you did not know this, she might seem distracted and not all together.)

She also has an Elvish-type living "below" (other plane, actually) her mansion. It would be interesting to know whether the house was built there because of the being, or whether the being came over later.

She is the head of "The Fellowship of Isis", Clonegal Castle, Enniscorthy, South Ireland, if you want to research her. They publish a journal called "Isian News", and many magickal publications of hers and her late husband. I went wild back then and bought a whole stack (still in my "to read" pile - ironic grin).

Just my take...

Best Wishes,
Ray B.

Erica said...

Hi Vis,Unfortunately I have no poetic ability myself,but particularly enjoy the works of William Blake and Lewis Carroll-by the way,beautiful performance of 'The Walrus and the Carpenter' on one of your recent broadcasts!
You seem to be more 'grounded' at the moment-which is good.A few of us around here appear to have bi-polar tendencies-wonder if this is a requirement for seeing through the Matrix,or a consequence of? My own moods are very much affected by the weather-so,living in England,I'm somewhat challenged at the moment!
Thank you for your latest thoughts,and for letting me share mine.

Denny said...

Batches of food containing mercury removed from foodstore shelves in China owing to "serious physical and mental conditions caused by its toxicity".

Erm... Would that be the same mercury packed permanently inside everyone's MOUTH, or is that a completely harmless mercury..?

Worth googling: youtube monty python lemming of the bda

There you'll see a fine portrayal of the illuminati by Graham Chapman as he emerges from a wall, stating, "I am evil and you will all die slowly under the drill!"

All good fun but I wonder how many viewers ever had even an inkling as to what they were alluding to.

And talking of Monty Python, I've just been watching the "Breivik trial" live from Oslo...

For my own sanity's sake, could anyone tell me just how many in that courtroom KNOW what the hell is really going on..? They've got experts and professionals of every description present all raking in a fortune giving their own assessments while "Breivik" himself just sits there grinning.

JerseyCynic said...

no failure to communicate here, Les Visible...

I am now convinced that you are right here in my living room.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9beFIankmBY
(Sister Rosetta Tharpe-Strange Things Happening Everyday)

JerseyCynic said...

PS - a double CME is on its way. what's unusual, is that there has been no spraying above the past 2 days. I'm actually enjoying blue blue skies for a change -- clouds look like they did when I was a kid -- I'm a sky watcher -- I'm a sky watcher - watching clouds go by -- my, my my....

Anonymous said...

via Homer..

Burrough's orgone accumulator was in his backyard. I saw it there adjacent to the garage and garden/ponds and also saw Burroughs on several occasions.

My brother lived in Lawrence, a couple of blocks away from Burroughs and when visiting I'd always walk by his little red house on my daily walks to see if he was out and about.

Whenever Burroughs was by the garden/pond, milling around the yard with his cats, sitting on the porch surrounded by clouds of smoke and drinking, I'd wave and shout out the Hare Krishna! Hare Rama! to him and he would unfailingly shake his fist at me and laugh. I think we both enjoyed this little ritual in our own personal way.

Burroughs was oddly enough just an old man around town those few years before he died. (94-97) He'd be at the grocery, coming in or out of the post office or a city office, out in his yard/garden/pond or there on his porch doing what he liked to do a lot of; drinking and smoking reefer.

I never felt an impetus or need to initiate a conversation with him due to our ongoing little ritual but my brother had spoken with him on occasion and said he was very approachable, not at all an excitable recluse or exceedingly private.

Anyway, he's gone now and to who knows where?

the gardener said...

Here's the Kate Bush video on Reich's cloudbusting...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7BQG_RmJbw

here's the vid's explanatory bit:
"Another good Kate Bush video. Not as mad as some of her stuff. Had this hanging around for years on an old video tape, only just worked out how to transfer it! The Cloudbuster was invented by an Austrian-American psychiatrist, Wilhelm Reich's, in an attempt to break a drought in Maine. The song describes Reich's arrest and incarceration through the eyes of his son, Peter, who later wrote the memoir A Book of Dreams, published in 1973."


Kate really puts heart and soul tribally in this song. I love it...

the gardener

siamsiam said...

I concur Mr Vis,

Some poetry don't make much cents ...

For instance
Four red ants crawled up my four legged pants
This made me dance
In an instance
As if in a trance

so we can agree and take the stance
some poetry don't make much sense
my own 2 cents are evidence

Anonymous said...

siamsiam,

Yours could pass for Ogden Nash.

Anonymous said...

via Homer..

"In the salver of the sky
The Sun and Moon shine like lamps,
The galaxy of stars are scattered like pearls;
The chandan-scented winds waft as Thine incense,
The forests are Thy flowers.
(Thus) is Thy arati performed,
O, Thou Destroyer of fear!"

Guru Nanak Dev

Anonymous said...

Abraham Lincoln was a good ole man, jumped out a window with his prick in his hand, said "hey there lady I'm doing my duty, now get over here and gimme some booty...And I'm tired of these motha fuckin vampires, in my motha fuckin legislature! Nate

John said...

I never liked Ginsberg either. He was a card-carrying member of NAMBLA who stated that "to label pedophilia as criminal is ridiculous." The word "creep" doesn't begin to do him justice. I remember being quite disappointed when Sonic Youth wrote a song for him, I thought they were quite cool as a kid, was a small eye opener for me at the time which stuck with me over the years.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allen_Ginsberg#Association_with_NAMBLA

http://nambla.org/ginsberg.html

http://www.queerty.com/peter-orlovsky-partner-of-allen-ginsberg-dead-at-76-20100601/

Visible said...

A New Petri Dish is up-

Souls in Dog's Bodies and the Eternal Muse.

http://www.artvt.com/poets/folsom/index.html said...

-
we are still in a position
to steer the world
in the right direction
but we must find it first

most of us know
right from wrong
but a few of us seem to
ignore this fact :

evil cannot defeat evil
nor can it defeat the 'good'
it feeds on it self
and all in it's path

only a true desire for peace
can slay the dragon of war
if you think you can win
then you don't know
what your fighting for
-

Anonymous said...

For those who "don't get" poetry: stop trying to get it! There's nothing to get. Experience it as you read it (preferably OUT LOUD! hehe), and then maybe, possibly, you'll find more pleasure in poems. I'm a poet, I still don't get it, and frankly, I don't want to get it. I just want to enjoy the pleasure of the language flowing off the tongue. Meow.