RINTRAH, THE DAVE, WROTE A SHORT POEM. 

     I went through agony, the past few days, and ecstasy. The Agones were Art Competitions in Ancient Greece. It Agon means “struggle” and it’s the root of English, “Agony.” I’ll endure any agony if it makes art like this. The Hanged Man Tarot Card willingly hangs himself on The Tree of Life. Then, The Inverted Hanged Man teaches what he learned. In this sense, he is the Sacrificial Lamb. It is The Artist’s labor pains. This poem goes in my book in progress, A QUEST THROUGH QUESTIONS OF TIME:

          COSMIC THERAPY

“Is the whole world conspiring to make me mad?” I’ve said, some days

What if it does?

“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” Shakespeare’s Hamlet said, one day

What of the whole world is conspiring to heal me?

To heal us all

I think IT is

“For God so loved THE COSMOS . . . that THE COSMOS, through Him, might be saved”

“God so loved THE COSMOS . . . that whoever believes in Him should not kill themself, but have VITAL LIFE OF THE AEONS” (John 3:16,17).

Science says nothing

ABOUT THE GRAND DESIGN

     Traditionally, my translation, “kill themself” is rendered, “perish.” The Greek, “apoletai” also means “to be killed,” as well as, “be destroyed.” Apoletai is that strange verb conjugation only in Greek, called a “middle verb.” Middle verbs are like French “reflexive verbs.” They mean you do it to or for yourself–i.e., “wash yourself;” “kill yourself.” Some language technicalities. 

     Traditionally, my “have VITAL LIFE OF THE AEONS,” is translated, “life everlasting.” The Greek has the word, “Zoe,” which means life. But Aeon also means “Vital Force,” and “eternal”–both at the same time. So it’s “life” and “vital force forever.” 

     One sees John’s clever word play between killing and life. In this case, the option is killing one’s self, or living by believing that there is a Source Of Vital Life. One seizes the “bare bodkin” or the dagger Hamlet was pondering suicide with; or one seizes The Vital Life of The Aeons.

     For the first time, I see how to use dry academic knowledge as and in poetry.

ENIGMATIC DR DAVE ENTERPRISES, PRELUDED

TUNNEL EXIT

It’s hard to find words for joy
And who wants to read happy poems?
Poetry begins in a pang
And sings the still, sad song of humanity
But I’m done with sad
This growing blithe spirit of mine
Hail to me my blithe spirit
“O friends, no more these sad tones
“Let us instead strike up more pleasing and more joyful ones!”
But what would those joyful tones be?
I don’t know, standing here bathed in light
Just at the tunnel exit, the darkness behind me
The interminable tunnel, the darkness when you’re in it
And I’ve been in it so long, so interminably long
Don’t we coalesce in misery together like an overcast sky
This amassing thunder-cloud with its strike of God-shock
That Götterfunken Schiller revealed; Beethoven immortalized
This confrontation with misery, this visit with trauma
This release, these successive explosions of what is not
Moksha, the liberation of which the Indic speak
There is no sunshine like just after the thunder-storm
Inspiring the shepherd’s hymn of thanksgiving
I can enjoy in golden moments, enjoy playing the keys, the music
I act effortlessly at times, have drive
Not compel a soporific lethargy to get it done
The tunnel behind me reaches back in misery
Back, behind the blithe light in which I now stand
At the tunnel exit
And today I am happy, happy at this moment I want

BITTERNESS: THE WORLD THAT GOD FORGOT

What kind of God, as He is called by some
Left the world and left the world into
Our very hands in His infinite wisdom.
God has more faith in us than I do.

Seems we humans botch things so badly
And we’re all so slow to learn and grow
I look around this broken world so sadly
And wonder how God just leaves it all so

We are the arbiters that that bring salvation
This world that God created and forgot
This world, this mess, this, our own creation
Isn’t God’s fault.  We got us where we got

God trusted us with more than I would have
And left us to manage—made us manage
Hoped we would care about each other, love
Manage creation, each other, our age

God has more hope for us than I do
Yet here we are we are our own future
We serve ourselves and so deserve our due
God sees all, sees us and knows us, too
Knows we are the sickness and the cure

God has more faith in us than I do.

EVOCATIVE NOMINATIVES

Sky mountains waterfalls ocean depths

Snowflakes white earth rivers frozen lakes

Leaves in the air fallen on the sodden ground enveloped by the season

Raindrops vaporescent oceans downpours clouds

Mist meadows fog sky rainbows

Faces mobs friends the human race

Love a God above devotion heaven sky and earth

FALLOW HEAD

There is a time for production and

A time for induction.  I am learning

A Scott Joplin piece and I have nothing

To say.  Fallow land is still being farmed

If not by man or woman, then by God

And if God be too high to comprehend cognitively and get, yet

All that is works on brain synapses

Which some call mind, others the soul

On a fallow head

 

I’ve labored hard abnegating everything else

Sabbatical’s completed creativity rests.

But since time still needs filled and CNN

Repeats itself on the hour and TV’s repeating movies fail to move

I play the piano.  And learn Scott Joplin’s Mexican Serenade;

I read a little, listen to classic rock, maybe jazz, and wake up my days to baroque, sipping coffee

In my following of sabbatical fallow induction

After all, there needs to be some substantive thing to make something

 

Sleeps dreams arrange the brain

Psyche’s stresses become meaning in sleep

A DALLIANCE WITH ATHEISM

Atheism, the Greek alpha privative applied to God

As if a letter could negate

The Word

But fashion has the apparent privative power

Belief is hard come by these days

In my day I’ve dallied with atheism

More as an academic posture, professional pose, poseur

Pretty important position to impertinently profess

To be unprofessional regarding the confession of God

As fashion

Quite unlike my younger years, when I didn’t know

In my gut

I didn’t know and I don’t know now, but believe

It’s hard to keep faith in mind and heart and life

In your gut

With a thinking mind, overthinking, ubermentation

Entertainment of doubts

It’s quite a thing to believe in things unseen

Unseemly, in fact, out of fashion

As if my mortal soul matters as does a hemline

Lifeline to eternity the believing mind, heart, life.

 

God whispers

 

Aethereal evidence

Evidence acquired through prior assent alone

Solipsistic criteria, a cry in the wilderness

That is this world, this world view, this zeitgeist, the spirit of this age

The Spirit and Words that give life

Life in a time and place in which belief is optional

Optimal

Words, Spirit, life, script for acting good, scripture

Inscribed on the heart, covenant, conformity to script

Information for theological formation not logical formulation

 

God whispers

 

We hear only with prior assent

Ascent out of that which is for this world

That which Is

That which makes this world

Faith in a doubt-filled world, the denial of the world, self-denial, other world

COMMUNION, COMMUNITY, AND AUTONOMY

We touch, talk, give and take to different degrees

Sacred, social, solitary, self-interested

Communion, camaraderie, cut-off, conceited

Bars, sports clubs, cocktails with co-workers

Church, sacred space, congregation, Communion with God

Caring, caritas, charity, spiritual love

All-giving, other-oriented, mutuality

Couples, partners, children, family

The afternoon card-party with a couple serene and sober

Nighttime in the club, the regulars, high and drunk

Broken dialogue, semblance of camaraderie

Familiarity, unhallowed ground, stabbings at connection

A handshake, a wave, watching out for one another

We meet, touch, talk, connect, care

Contingent on our commitment to community

Contingent on the levels of self: hallowed, hollow, sincere, serene, solipsistic

Ascending and descending the soul’s ladder within the social spectrum

FOR EVERYTHING YOU ARE

I have been alone, but haven’t felt lonely

You have been single, but with a family

Now we are together, now my life is full

For everything you are, I am ever grateful

 

I am grateful, too, for all of your support

When I go through trials, you give me comfort

Your voice is always, “Yes;” you won’t allow me doubt

You assure me everything will all work out

 

I give thanks to God for everything that is you

In an uncertain world, you and your love is true

I just wanted you to know the way I feel

My love for you and faithfulness to you are real

You make my world complete through all you are and all you do

OUT THERE

What do you do with time

We shared, when we are no longer we

Those memories of us, photos of us

Places we went together

Time when we shared when we were we

 

How does an individual repair trust?

Broken trust, broken heart

What does an individual do with broken love

Innocence lost, admiring, trusting innocence

Echoes of expulsion from the Garden

 

I can hear blues even in The Ode to Joy

Guess I won’t be happy for a while

There is redemption with God,

Peace in religious systems

If feeling better isn’t cheating

 

I try not to get mad at everybody

They have done nothing to me

But from this place, place of downcast dour

I can’t find equanimity, the civil speech

I must maintain with everybody

 

And so I wait in the darkness

Without hope, for hope would be for the wrong thing

Without will, for desire would be misplaced

There is only the waiting and the darkness

Which shall be the darkness of God

A VANTAGE POINT

I don’t know if it was four days of Tylenol

Or fever

Or four days bedridden, . . .

But I saw my whole life in a vision

In a critique

God tried to touch me

I fear I don’t have the strength

To sustain God’s touch

Slipping back may have consequences

Too dire to contemplate

I had a glimpse

I have a vantage-point

I see where I have been

A part of me won’t be the same again

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