Captive Waterlily
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Monday, December 27, 2004
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Solstice (rap excerpt)
Metroparks and silver tracks
pornography and slum shacks
helicopter pads at Battery Park.
Shiny autos so sleek and dark.
Chicken dinners and charity
masses prayed in sanctity.
Human beauty in every face I see."
pornography and slum shacks
helicopter pads at Battery Park.
Shiny autos so sleek and dark.
Chicken dinners and charity
masses prayed in sanctity.
Human beauty in every face I see."
Self Statement
One of these days I intend to discuss my artistic 'philosophy' or aesthetic sensibility. I often think about this---why I consider one object 'pretty' or 'valuable' versus the dullness of all what passes unnoticed. Like what ends up getting posted to blog versus not.
Merry Christ (realization) mas!
Crunch.
Merry Christ (realization) mas!
Crunch.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
O Solstice, O Long Day!
Krispy Kreme donut and coffee
Amtrak shimmy, rattle and hum
loudspeaker baying
mystics praying.
ATM machines
crispy greens.
Silver coinsong
takes another spin ‘round the till.
quarters clacking
change spilling out on the gritty street.
Bare trees, waste heaps,
morning men speaking "spare change"
offering their dark bearded,
brown skinned Christmas blessing.
Out of New York by rail into the roseate first haze of a December morning.
The beige brown estuary reeds reeds opposite Secaucus.
Hymns to the working class
neatly spaced row houses
neatly spaced parcels of America!
The sun emerges like an orange pillow behind the Manhattan skyline and careen off
the Twin Towers.
Reflected off of the billowing factory pipes---wisps of clouds
in purple gray magnificence.
Luminous,
ethereal,
orange and rose light,
returning to the spiritual sky.
O! Mighty sun, your shortest day,
illumine me with your golden bliss,
you give joy to the blank silver factory walls.
O, Morning bliss, your secret emergence,
your dark gypsy eyes blinking behind the projects in Spanish Harlem.
Your waking city with its dull, scraping feet,
on webs of trails and tracks, yellow taxis in mid-flight
through Times Square.
What,
What does all of this mean?
Nothing.
Only joy.
Only surfaces shimmering,
only eyes grinning
in the human pasttime.
Round and round and round again.
Metroparks and silver tracks
pornography and slum shacks
helicopter pads at Battery Park.
Shiny autos so sleek and dark.
Chicken dinners and charity
masses prayed in sanctity.
Human beauty in every face I see.
Great clouds breathing in/ breathing out
the solar effulgence,
the endless turquoise baby blue sky
falling into transcendental darkness.
O, rainbow earth shinning in the center of the deep night
velvet ocean of intelligence
awaken me!
Cosmic poet
I see you on your train stop waiting,
peering into the sky ---contemplating
the ever deeper universal Being
wondrous mountain peaked
prayerful yogi
alone with the last rock
on top of the world in Shambhala.
O final war!
O, everlasting battle!
The universe entire
rocking in spasm to become permanent.
To hold forth and stand there
for just this moment---Wow!
O silver lines of communication,
our conscious nexus
connect us with higher thoughts at Christmas,
words of love bringing us
closer to our families' bosom.
Fly us to the heaven that is within our reach.
Cosmic operator connect me to the one,
the source of all sources
what contains my parents
and every molecule of my ancestors,
like this black, Jersey river mirroring the frozen sky.
Frost on the stones---winter chill
inescapable aching cold of interstellar space.
O warming sphere
drawing us into your honey gold
life sustaining fire.
Ancient Sun,
O, Solstice
to you this hymn
on your shortest day.
December 21, 1997
Amtrak shimmy, rattle and hum
loudspeaker baying
mystics praying.
ATM machines
crispy greens.
Silver coinsong
takes another spin ‘round the till.
quarters clacking
change spilling out on the gritty street.
Bare trees, waste heaps,
morning men speaking "spare change"
offering their dark bearded,
brown skinned Christmas blessing.
Out of New York by rail into the roseate first haze of a December morning.
The beige brown estuary reeds reeds opposite Secaucus.
Hymns to the working class
neatly spaced row houses
neatly spaced parcels of America!
The sun emerges like an orange pillow behind the Manhattan skyline and careen off
the Twin Towers.
Reflected off of the billowing factory pipes---wisps of clouds
in purple gray magnificence.
Luminous,
ethereal,
orange and rose light,
returning to the spiritual sky.
O! Mighty sun, your shortest day,
illumine me with your golden bliss,
you give joy to the blank silver factory walls.
O, Morning bliss, your secret emergence,
your dark gypsy eyes blinking behind the projects in Spanish Harlem.
Your waking city with its dull, scraping feet,
on webs of trails and tracks, yellow taxis in mid-flight
through Times Square.
What,
What does all of this mean?
Nothing.
Only joy.
Only surfaces shimmering,
only eyes grinning
in the human pasttime.
Round and round and round again.
Metroparks and silver tracks
pornography and slum shacks
helicopter pads at Battery Park.
Shiny autos so sleek and dark.
Chicken dinners and charity
masses prayed in sanctity.
Human beauty in every face I see.
Great clouds breathing in/ breathing out
the solar effulgence,
the endless turquoise baby blue sky
falling into transcendental darkness.
O, rainbow earth shinning in the center of the deep night
velvet ocean of intelligence
awaken me!
Cosmic poet
I see you on your train stop waiting,
peering into the sky ---contemplating
the ever deeper universal Being
wondrous mountain peaked
prayerful yogi
alone with the last rock
on top of the world in Shambhala.
O final war!
O, everlasting battle!
The universe entire
rocking in spasm to become permanent.
To hold forth and stand there
for just this moment---Wow!
O silver lines of communication,
our conscious nexus
connect us with higher thoughts at Christmas,
words of love bringing us
closer to our families' bosom.
Fly us to the heaven that is within our reach.
Cosmic operator connect me to the one,
the source of all sources
what contains my parents
and every molecule of my ancestors,
like this black, Jersey river mirroring the frozen sky.
Frost on the stones---winter chill
inescapable aching cold of interstellar space.
O warming sphere
drawing us into your honey gold
life sustaining fire.
Ancient Sun,
O, Solstice
to you this hymn
on your shortest day.
December 21, 1997
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Friday, December 10, 2004
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Business Ethics?
Yes, it is a valuable exercise to compare churches and corporations during this time of 'corporate religion'. The bottom line, in my opinion, being that corporations are not 'churches,' not true 'religions', not 'spiritual' and no, corporations cannot possess soul (sorry).
And at the same time, the church is not a corporation---despite the fact that the mainline denominations have adopted management and hierarchical strategies which in fact gave birth to what we call 'modern business'. At any rate, the church that equals corporation is not the true 'church'...and if it were, we could say that the corporations in fact are the great churches based upon their philanthropic efforts, and their sway over human minds and hearts.
Hence, according to my logic, there is either one church which is 'corporate' or that the true church is not represented in organizations and hierarchical, land possessing entities, but is "from above", "not of this world", and "it bloweth where it listeth."
This was once a favorite theme for me. I argue that the software business assumes a "spiritual" PR...angels, demons, biblical names (Oracle, Prophet, Word, Genesis, Prodigy, etc...). And that it does present an earthly goal, and ideal to reach heaven from the powers of earth and it will most likely rule temporal matters, as once the Roman Catholic Church did (Inquisition=surveillance at work, monitoring of communication, generation of morality and codes of behavior (ethics), promotion or normalized views via TV drama which teach people how to react and think about all sorts of phenomena---the Church was actually more mellow in its inquisitorial styles). And the ultimate power of God from which true ethics emerges is forgotten, and painted over so that it is the corporations who bestow ethical goodness, love, support, care and blessings to the human race. Like churchgoers employees are spiritually linked to their organizations, and 'believe' in them. They fail to see where the company often takes every financial advantage of their allegiance (again like Catholicism), nickel and dime them on benefits, and expect praise and worship for paying them their due wages; meanwhile the employees are happy to be part of the team! They fail to see that no company has ever made a move that threaten their bottomline, hence never in fact met the minimum requirement for an ethical act in its true sense which is self-sacrifice, turning the other cheek, giving all that you have to give (once again the Church!). So, we have the newly emergent corporate religion on one side, the morally ambivalent Church Inc. on the other, and there is on the side a tiny little deposit of free people who realize that ethics cannot come from corporations, because a)they are soulless, and b)they are exclusively out for themselves (and if they can afford to give a little why not, it beats taxes)!
There is the old expression: The Emperor's New Clothes. This represents the modern corporations attempt to paint themselves as 'ethical' and can easily be done as long as no one recalls what 'ethics' means or studies ethics in any serious manner.
It should better be: The ethics of Little Red Riding Hood by the Wolf!
Ethics it should be remembered for thousands of years meant self-sacrifice---how it has morphed into these myriad details of codes and behavior modification I can only guess.
And at the same time, the church is not a corporation---despite the fact that the mainline denominations have adopted management and hierarchical strategies which in fact gave birth to what we call 'modern business'. At any rate, the church that equals corporation is not the true 'church'...and if it were, we could say that the corporations in fact are the great churches based upon their philanthropic efforts, and their sway over human minds and hearts.
Hence, according to my logic, there is either one church which is 'corporate' or that the true church is not represented in organizations and hierarchical, land possessing entities, but is "from above", "not of this world", and "it bloweth where it listeth."
This was once a favorite theme for me. I argue that the software business assumes a "spiritual" PR...angels, demons, biblical names (Oracle, Prophet, Word, Genesis, Prodigy, etc...). And that it does present an earthly goal, and ideal to reach heaven from the powers of earth and it will most likely rule temporal matters, as once the Roman Catholic Church did (Inquisition=surveillance at work, monitoring of communication, generation of morality and codes of behavior (ethics), promotion or normalized views via TV drama which teach people how to react and think about all sorts of phenomena---the Church was actually more mellow in its inquisitorial styles). And the ultimate power of God from which true ethics emerges is forgotten, and painted over so that it is the corporations who bestow ethical goodness, love, support, care and blessings to the human race. Like churchgoers employees are spiritually linked to their organizations, and 'believe' in them. They fail to see where the company often takes every financial advantage of their allegiance (again like Catholicism), nickel and dime them on benefits, and expect praise and worship for paying them their due wages; meanwhile the employees are happy to be part of the team! They fail to see that no company has ever made a move that threaten their bottomline, hence never in fact met the minimum requirement for an ethical act in its true sense which is self-sacrifice, turning the other cheek, giving all that you have to give (once again the Church!). So, we have the newly emergent corporate religion on one side, the morally ambivalent Church Inc. on the other, and there is on the side a tiny little deposit of free people who realize that ethics cannot come from corporations, because a)they are soulless, and b)they are exclusively out for themselves (and if they can afford to give a little why not, it beats taxes)!
There is the old expression: The Emperor's New Clothes. This represents the modern corporations attempt to paint themselves as 'ethical' and can easily be done as long as no one recalls what 'ethics' means or studies ethics in any serious manner.
It should better be: The ethics of Little Red Riding Hood by the Wolf!
Ethics it should be remembered for thousands of years meant self-sacrifice---how it has morphed into these myriad details of codes and behavior modification I can only guess.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Four Strands
1.
In a Summer swelter
Lime green trees
Splinter with diamond light
Against the August breeze.
The sighing moon silhouettes
Black roses
Beneath your proud street.
Dusted sparrow dips
Her yellow beak
Into the fat pool.
Soppy, shifting greens lap
At the granite tub.
Trolley cars slink along Beacon Street.
2.
Tawny fields of Summer’s grass billow
The sky is big with fate
Heavy clouds roll on like ships of state.
Another day drifts away
With refreshing mists wetting
The asphalt below.
Adjusting dreams---
Shredding corporate schemes.
3.
Beneath the haloed orange glow
And on the forest floor
Near the blue rushing stream
Spins a circle dance:
‘la fete Automnale’
Fire in the night.
Words rise like fallen heroes
Who never falter,
Firemen
Tearing down the flaming walls
To bring the broken child
To the healing water.
So many words have fallen,
Are hoisted up again,
But not resuscitated.
They are given place,
Collected and bound,
Standing in rows,
Lining the walls
Of the memorial Library.
4.
Poor, pitiful pigeon waits
On the church stoop crumbs,
His battered milky wing conjures
Golden days
Of youth’s effervescent, shimmering.
His light flickers and fades
Late into this day
Cracked claw clinging to the clay---
Linger no more,
Away
I must away.
.
In a Summer swelter
Lime green trees
Splinter with diamond light
Against the August breeze.
The sighing moon silhouettes
Black roses
Beneath your proud street.
Dusted sparrow dips
Her yellow beak
Into the fat pool.
Soppy, shifting greens lap
At the granite tub.
Trolley cars slink along Beacon Street.
2.
Tawny fields of Summer’s grass billow
The sky is big with fate
Heavy clouds roll on like ships of state.
Another day drifts away
With refreshing mists wetting
The asphalt below.
Adjusting dreams---
Shredding corporate schemes.
3.
Beneath the haloed orange glow
And on the forest floor
Near the blue rushing stream
Spins a circle dance:
‘la fete Automnale’
Fire in the night.
Words rise like fallen heroes
Who never falter,
Firemen
Tearing down the flaming walls
To bring the broken child
To the healing water.
So many words have fallen,
Are hoisted up again,
But not resuscitated.
They are given place,
Collected and bound,
Standing in rows,
Lining the walls
Of the memorial Library.
4.
Poor, pitiful pigeon waits
On the church stoop crumbs,
His battered milky wing conjures
Golden days
Of youth’s effervescent, shimmering.
His light flickers and fades
Late into this day
Cracked claw clinging to the clay---
Linger no more,
Away
I must away.
.
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