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Sunday, 2 January 2011

Consciousness attained on A Poetry Bus ride

Revolutionary Revelry came up with three suggestions for this week's challenge. Three crackers. One of these was the suggestion that we should consider what we will do this year to advance humanity (if you please!) or simply ourself to a new level of consciousness. Being of a suitably masochistic bent, that was the one I chose.

I place the C.D. in the tray, then close
it to a slight vibration as it spins,
sense how a tomb of dumb and lifeless bits,
dull catacomb of science, understood
by men, unrousing monument to what
is numb, brings forth a ghost (of sorts), unseen,
of simple form - that no one understands -
to weave the ether of our high desires
with intimations that take me by storm.

Yet I am able to relax inside
that storm. This is the great conundrum: we
can understand and build complexities
of tool and temple for our gods to live,
yet they themselves, such simple things, remain
beyond our powers. Sounds take solid shape
or seem but human in their attributes.
What is it of a tune that strikes such rich
emotions in our hearts to lift or save?

to badger? bend and sway? to laugh or grieve?
We are but leaves blown headlong in a squall,
but in that gust the whole of death, desire,
requital of desire, divinity
and beauty, ugliness and sin (each sworn
to silence) faces us with God and man -
the whole of man and that of God we've grown
to know. The confrontation makes us all
more truly man. In that we come of age.

It is the same with any art. In thought
we meet the Maker that we choose. But thought
needs data from the senses or it dies.
We line our homes with images that speak
of freedoms - and in doing so, the walls
and chambers of our souls with purest gold.
I too have felt the dark encroachment of
that old catastrophe.
It seems almost too
self-indulgent to increase our good.

But I will take the C.D. from the tray
and know that I am able no way else
to journey to the depths the music took
my captive consciousness on freedom's hook -
though other arts at other times may do
the same. The subject is not that which art
puts in the frame - the landscape, virus, tree
or blushing nude - but that which of those speaks
to me of what is most humane in me.

16 comments:

Ted said...

Yes brother. This one sings and give me goose pimples up and down my arms. This one sticks.

I place the C.D. in the tray, then close
it to a slight vibration as it spins,
sense how a tomb of dumb and lifeless bits,
dull catacomb of science, understood
by men, unrousing monument to what
is numb, brings forth a ghost (of sorts), unseen,
of simple form - that no one understands -
to weave the ether of our high desires
with intimations that take me by storm.

THAT IS WHAT ART IS SUPPOSED TO DO.

Yet I am able to relax inside
that storm. This is the great conundrum: we
can understand and build complexities
of tool and temple for our gods to live,
yet they themselves, such simple things, remain
beyond our powers. Sounds take solid shape
or seem but human in their attributes.
What is it of a tune that strikes such rich
emotions in our hearts to lift or save?

IT IS OUR ABILITY TO GO FROM THE SPECIFIC TO THE UNIVERSAL.

to badger? bend and sway? to laugh or grieve?
We are but leaves blown headlong in a squall,
but in that gust the whole of death, desire,
requital of desire, divinity
and beauty, ugliness and sin (each sworn
to silence) faces us with God and man -
the whole of man and that of God we've grown
to know. The confrontation makes us all
more truly man. In that we come of age.

GOD IS THE ULTIMATE UNIVERSAL. WE COME OF AGE WHEN WE ACCEPT THERE ARE GREATER THINGS THAN OURSELVES.

It is the same with any art. In thought
we meet the Maker that we choose. But thought
needs data from the senses or it dies.
We line our homes with images that speak
of freedoms - and in doing so, the walls
and chambers of our souls with purest gold.
I too have felt the dark encroachment of
that old catastrophe. It seems almost too
self-indulgent to increase our good.

PERHAPS OUR ABILITY TO CREATE IS WHERE GOD TOUCHES US. TO BELIEVE SUCH A THING MIGHT BE SELF-INDULGENT BUT THERE WOULDN'T BE ART WITHOUT SELF.

But I will take the C.D. from the tray
and know that I am able no way else
to journey to the depths the music took
my captive consciousness on freedom's hook -
though other arts at other times may do
the same. The subject is not that which art
puts in the frame - the landscape, virus, tree
or blushing nude - but that which of those speaks
to me of what is most humane in me.

MAN OH MAN I LOVE THOSE BLUSHING NUDES THAT KNOW JUST WHERE TO COVER UP. IT THAT MAKES ME BAD, SO BE IT. I THINK THOSE BLUSHING NUDES MAKE US MORE HUMANE WHEN WE ADMIT IT.

TechnoBabe said...

I like that you say we meet the maker of our choice; the God we have come to know. Shows you have an open mind.
Your writing reminds me that each of us hears our own music. It is our own.

Adrian LaRoque said...

I learned how to relax inside a storm, that is the true. Great post Dave!

Helen said...

Dave,
Your writing is so complex and deep I find words hard to come by. Always know how much I enjoy you.

Gerry Snape said...

Dave, like Helen I am lost for words. It touches humanity at a very deep level. Thankyou so much.

Kass said...

The regular iambic rhythm with is intermittent jolt, the choice of words to describe what I have often thought as I played a CD - so precise and close to my feelings.

Really wonderful.

The Weaver of Grass said...

Needs thinking about Dave does this - but isn't this what art in its widest sense is all about?

Karen said...

I agree with the others -- you are one deep thinking, complex man, and I love your work!

David Cranmer said...

Dave, How many volumes would it take to collect your work. Your daily output is staggering for a slouch like me.

Poetic Artist said...

Dave,
Your words and thoughts just amaze me. Have you published before?
You should...
Have heart filled 2011.
Katelen

Rachel Cotterill said...

Your poems always make me think... I did wonder where this one was going, but it made sense when we got there :)

Dave King said...

Ted
Welcome to you most warmly. Many thanks for the trouble you have gone to in commenting verse by verse. The only comment on which I would come back to you is the one on the third stanzaTed
Welcome . The point I was making is that accepting that god exists achieves very little. It is necessary to confront that existence in some way. I thin kyou may have put your finger on it in the next comment that it is in our ability to create that this can be achieved. I think that a point worthy of much further speculation. My only other reservation is that I ddid not say it is self-indulgent, only that it seems so. Otherwise I agree with you completely. Thanks again for a series of comments that made me think again.

TechnoBabe
Good point. Yes, I did imply that we hear each in our own way - maybe because of the god we have chosen? Well, I guess that's a two-way process. Thanks for the comment.

Adrian
Great to hear from you. Wonderful how a storm can be both exciting and relaxing though!

Helen
Many thanks for that. Obviously there is work still to do, though. It is not intended to be comlex, though the subject is, of course. Useful comment - as always. Thanks again.

Gerry
And thank you, so much. A lovvely comment to have.

Kass
I hope the jolt was not too fierce. Thanks for the comment.

Dave King said...

Weaver
Absolutely. In fact I'm in the same boat. I surprised myself with some of the things I wrote - but then again, that often happens! (As someone once said: How do I know what I think until I've written it down? Thanks for commenting.

Karen
I'm none too sure about the first two comments, but I do thank you for the third!

David
Oh, I think I'm still on the first volume. The stock is rising nicely at the moment, I suppose, but it hasn't always been like that. I used to be at the unproductive end of the scale. Taking on a web or challenge or two has made the difference. Having a deadline, I have to say at that point that it's fin ished - and move on to the next. I'm inclined to think that deadlines are the cure to writers' block.

Poetic Artist
A very warm welcome to you, good to have you aboard. No, I haven't published. I have tended to concentrate on com petitions. Some success locally, but not with any of the big ones. Thanks for your interest. You, too, have a grand 2011.

Rachell
Thank heaven for the last phrase! But yes, I understand what you are saying. In a sense it was written that way, so was bound to come out like it.

Dave King said...

Rachel
Apologies for the double l!

Peter Goulding said...

A poem that encapsulates perfectly the definition of art, in all its many forms. (though my own poetry fails to live up to the high ideals!)

JeannetteLS said...

"We are but leaves blown headlong in a squall,
but in that gust the whole of death, desire,
requital of desire, divinity
and beauty, ugliness and sin (each sworn
to silence) faces us with God and man -
the whole of man and that of God we've grown
to know. The confrontation makes us all
more truly man. In that we come of age."

That part there just grabbed me by the heart and won't let go. Thank you, David.