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The children of Tibet (Obscure Reference)

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And so it begins dastardly deeds rolling up the desiderata to light fire to weeds.

Ego’s firing a shot from a lonely dark room to injure the innocent children not born God looks down on you in disarray wondering what happened. That was not the heat he released into your heart, throwing dirt in hopes of burying red hot words of fire, shaming the white robes of the Dali Lama, for what? A few steps inside a bottle stained green.  A dishonorable discharge from a gun with two clicks left in hopes of making it right, all because some gave lifting to this heavy burden we all together must carry. Oh how heavy must be your weight, come the next morning as beautiful bounties lay sprawled at your feet, those earlier giving praise, now mourning the carcasses of their comrades. What must have beseeched the upsetting deserving the chocking of razor across the throats?

 What causes your curving of the darkness into a pointed weapon of words more powerful than a heart bullet?  All over again this sin against your brother Kane? A pox way into your easing soul as darkness befalls so many, but again I must still forgive thee. Because you are my brother Kane, and I will again and again lift up the hearts in the window relying that the great Dali Lama saw truth in light not darkness. I shall not scold these children or brothers and sisters reprimanding them for soaring high with their paper wings. This is our calling, and we are soldiers of peace in the field of battle with only our words to protect us from the old.  Perhaps your truth is right in words of guidance, like a critical care ward poking around at the wound, but for each of us we must venture into all the worlds and die for ourselves, without help, having time too praise the living. As for me, I’ve seen monsters lurk outside my window before. I will invite you in like I did them, into my warm room that took decades to build with blistering hot hands, in hopes you will sit with me in front of the warm fireplace that soon will sit in front of you. Please come in and have some cookies and hot chocolate, Mr. Monster.

“If you can, help others, if you cannot do that, at least do not harm them” My Dali Lama

                                                 

Comments (6)

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Interesting metaphors, it seems like a stream of consciousness. I enjoyed it.

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yeah, you got it.

Soi-Disant, The Blue Roof

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Joshua, Arzas last poem has me thinking, same chemicals poured into same human molds. Why do some want to volunteer to help one another, and some seek to destroy one another? It's not a simple environmental result, so what? Can it be as simple as...

Joshua, Arzas last poem has me thinking, same chemicals poured into same human molds. Why do some want to volunteer to help one another, and some seek to destroy one another? It's not a simple environmental result, so what? Can it be as simple as the wiring in each of us decide that someone will take the path of the Dali Lama or the Monster inside us. That was what the metaphor is about. Or are some of us strong enough to be weak? What do you think?

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If you are refering to "Vivisecting," I'd like to make the point that the poem addresses what in one person's opinion is a drive among some poetry critics to condescend postmodernism. Along side that idea I have noticed a tendency to say that...

If you are refering to "Vivisecting," I'd like to make the point that the poem addresses what in one person's opinion is a drive among some poetry critics to condescend postmodernism. Along side that idea I have noticed a tendency to say that populist poetry is by definition bad poetry. Having Paul Muldoon's work described as unsophisticated postmodernism is beyond me, but it smacks of elitism. -re: Andrew Duncan legends 5: http://www.pinko.org/106.html
I take issue in that postmodernism is simply defined as "life is meaningless, there is no point trying at anything, and we can all just sit in the bar, drinking and telling anecdotes." As compelling as that idea is for me it doesn't define postmodern thinking, in my view.
Oh, and if you weren't referring to "Vivisecting," then never mind...:-)

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I don't concern myself with the knobby heads... they're devolving into a smaller and smaller cadre of self referencing elites that are becoming less relevant by the moment. The fact is that poetry of every "movement" is good if it's well done and...

I don't concern myself with the knobby heads... they're devolving into a smaller and smaller cadre of self referencing elites that are becoming less relevant by the moment. The fact is that poetry of every "movement" is good if it's well done and reflective. For me, I think that postmodernism is a creature of the existentialist philosophy which thinkers from Kierkegaard onward have been developing. But for some people, existentialism has come to them through life experience, not a university or a school of philosophy. And its that last fact that so perplexes the old guard.

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Postmodernism whew, is it a can of worms or a can of caviar we open? Since it's inception into mainstream it seems no one is capable of determining what does it REALLY mean. However it is my opion never to squash anything trying to succeed as an...

Postmodernism whew, is it a can of worms or a can of caviar we open? Since it's inception into mainstream it seems no one is capable of determining what does it REALLY mean. However it is my opion never to squash anything trying to succeed as an art form. Habermas, Lyotard, hell even freud could not agree on this subject only that it is an extention of modernism. However I think Joshua makes a valid point in that if it's well constructed and has the "bells and whistles" then the quality of the work is the mainstay. But as stated previously I disagree that anyone should condemn Postmodernism. Yes Alberto I was referring to "Vivisecting" but only as a launching pad for the emotions it evoked in me as I read it. Also just to claify "Whats wrong with sitting in a bar and solving the worlds problems. (Ha, he, ha)

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