Category: Uncategorized

creep, you silen wonderfurl

oh, creep, you sylken wunderfyrl,
oh, cry, you crympen monkeywrench
spinstrel out the best-lad plans,
crimp the ninny-hammers
this one’s got shivers for eyes
or that’s just the labrats talking
veering into gallimauphric rants

graven, that host steps past,
a dish of dappled horror
a pudding of mastered fear
unlike the best-of-times, we spoke
this one slinkeyed round the stair
til night just fell into the grave
the rose sunned outward from the fall
burnt crisp in radioactive hum

hymm to some dammed conqueror
fill that cup with all the cups of mirth
when dancing past the harbormaster
tight stalkings eye the lorn folk
lip-stains crease the lettered mulch
and all past reams rip the sigh
treating grains like steams of earth

origamally yours, that frog folds past
squatting like a loathesome heart
some babboon or turkey thing
fill these gracken maunderings
while word-heaps stack to sky
veering to and fro, to fall?
shall we cry timber! or wait too long?

inside that ventricle (the left one)
the bloodstuff keeps pumping through
all’s gowned, that’s the ticket
while cheap fingers flex their hold
watch those tattered digits fail
six and three and one
hope to heaven no soul’s gone

flashy tricks, flaming hats and doves
rotten fruit and battened hatches
derive sweet justice from a scamp
to traipse about the place, wearing glee
only to find, sans monkey,
the heapen crowd has eyes that watch,
that see the secret foldings of the hand

only this one sings the guilt of wonder
fallen into some great stare
jump, jack, and don’t look now
you’re not going to like this, mr.
the secret howl breaks out
shattering wineglasses and cryptic walls
bursting out the seams of air
(only in a dream…wake to silence)

record’s skipping tracks, cutting out
that same dammed place every time
who’s lifting the needle this time?
what shraven burst of feathers here?
and why’d that camera flickerflash?
you know: only a small courage gleams
it’s not worth the soup to spill

RU Sirius chats with Howard Bloom

A mind-blowing interview with Howard Bloom:

Right now, the jigsaw puzzle of human culture is so primitive that it defies belief. The clichés we use to try to discuss what we are and to understand our emotions are extraordinarily primitive. Until 1812, we did not have the word “unconscious” or “subconscious.” The guy who invented the word took it nowhere. He didn’t market it. He didn’t promote it. And consequently it did not enter the public mind. It didn’t become a tool in the cultural tool kit-a cliché — until somebody who had studied the art of promotion by studying Moses took it up. Specifically he tried to figure out how Moses had promoted, marketed and publicized, how Moses had created a chosen people from nothing. The guy who put the unconscious on the map — the man who gave the concept to you and me — traveled from Vienna to Rome every year to ponder Michelangelo’s statue of David so he could figure out exactly how you start a movement that spreads your ideas. This guy took up the idea of the unconscious and the subconscious and implanted it in our vocabulary. His name was Sigmund Freud. So it took roughly 88 years from the first mention of the conscious and the unconscious before it got into our common cultural toolkit. And it took the skills of a man with many curiosities, the skills of a man who was as fascinated by the science of the mind as he was with the science of idea-planting, the science of benevolent marketing.