Nicean Barks

 
 

Such transports as true poetry provides

In raptures of the soul, and lyric rides,

May carry one beyond the lofty heights

In chariots of sun on drunken nights.

Whether true odyssey or shorter trip,

Homeric craft or humbler sort of ship,

The poet’s chosen stowaway rides free;

The ticket paid for literarily.

And afterward, the traveler comes home

Enriched by distant sights and worlds unknown.


PROMPT #2: write a poem about a specific place . . .

Deleuzional

In 1984 I sat in on a philosophy class at the University of St. Denis in Paris.
Gilles Deleuze was quite a figure, hunched at a desk in the center of the crowded room with his shaggy mane of hair and his long uncut scary-looking fingernails. He was surrounded by a multitude of disciples and mini-cassette recorders spread out on the desk in front of him. I did not realize until recently that he exited this terrestrial globe by throwing himself off of a building. I decided to compose a belated elegy to this grand philosopher which you may read below. There is also mention of Guy Debord (whose philosophy inspired Malcolm McLaren among others).

 
 
A schiz-flow elegy for Gilles Deleuze

Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit,
according to the tradition of men,
according to the basic principles of the world,
and not according to Christ

Colossians 2:4-8 (NKJV)

His Nietzschean trip moved from Comic toward Tragic:
Deleuze’s delusions flew out the fenêtre
Airborne and stoned on philosophy’s magic
(the nihilist suicide’s raison d’être…)
Propelled from the window, transcending the Ontic,
his organless body in textual flight,
a schiz-flow beyond on a voyage turned frantic.
His thought – a nomadic adornment for speed,
multiplicitly viewing a thousand plateaux
was a force for unhinging the doorways of light
and a plea for postmodern decoding indeed.
His frame soon encountered pure striated space
in the form of the pavement caressing his face.

He joins other smokers of Gallic tabac,
other esotericians of cognitive frenzy
(those mullahs of madness, those sultans of Whack)
Sorely missed by his victims, disciples and friends
he is mourned, misinterpreted, copied, dismissed . . .
(but for semioticians he heads up the list).

Another brave Frenchman, some guy named Debord
a bespectacled Marxist who missed all the marks
made the medium’s message a radical bore
dialectically fading the lights into darks.
Indirectly disrupting pop-culture with Punk
and other anarchic phenomena-junk,
he too chose to leave with a nihilist bang—
while we whimper and suffer down here with the gang.
The old situationist’s last situation:
an agit-prop funeral short on elation.

So to French de-constructor-philosopher-ravers
and all who rejoice while society wavers
I offer these lines, like a quick coup-de-grace
and be warned—they’re now viewing the Good Lord en face.

IMAGE CREDIT: webdeleuze.com

Deleuzional

In 1984 I sat in on a philosophy class at the University of St. Denis in Paris.
Gilles Deleuze was quite a figure, hunched at a desk in the center of the crowded room with his shaggy mane of hair and his long uncut scary-looking fingernails. He was surrounded by a multitude of disciples and mini-cassette recorders spread out on the desk in front of him. I did not realize until recently that he exited this terrestrial globe by throwing himself off of a building. I decided to compose a belated elegy to this grand philosopher which you may read below. There is also mention of Guy Debord (whose philosophy inspired Malcolm McLaren among others).
I still have a place in my heart for the Sex Pistols, Bow Wow Wow, and especially that great and groovy global mix Duck Rock .
Debord shot himself.  McLaren passed away in 2010.

Do you think any of them will be in heaven?

 
 
A schiz-flow elegy for Gilles Deleuze

Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit,
according to the tradition of men,
according to the basic principles of the world,
and not according to Christ

Colossians 2:4-8 (NKJV)

His Nietzschean trip moved from Comic toward Tragic:
Deleuze’s delusions flew out the fenêtre
Airborne and stoned on philosophy’s magic
(the nihilist suicide’s raison d’être…)
Propelled from the window, transcending the Ontic,
his organless body in textual flight,
a schiz-flow beyond on a voyage turned frantic.
His thought – a nomadic adornment for speed,
multiplicitly viewing a thousand plateaux
was a force for unhinging the doorways of light
and a plea for postmodern decoding indeed.
His frame soon encountered pure striated space
in the form of the pavement caressing his face.

He joins other smokers of Gallic tabac,
other esotericians of cognitive frenzy
(those mullahs of madness, those sultans of Whack…)
Sorely missed by his victims, disciples and friends
he is mourned, misinterpreted, copied, dismissed
– but for semioticians he heads up the list.

Another brave Frenchman, some guy named Debord
a bespectacled Marxist (who missed all the marks)
made the medium’s message a radical bore
dialectically fading the lights into darks.
Indirectly disrupting pop-culture with Punk
and other anarchic phenomena-junk,
he too chose to leave with a nihilist bang –
while we whimper and suffer down here with the gang.
The old situationist’s last situation:
an agit-prop funeral short on elation…

So to French de-constructor-philosopher-ravers
and all who rejoice while society wavers
I offer these lines, like a quick coup-de-grace
and be warned – they’re now viewing the Good Lord en face.

IMAGE CREDIT: webdeleuze.com

Islands of Intensity

I am learning to put more visuals in with the poems, obsessing over dumb little details that no one but me will ever notice. Why am I doing this blog? It is definitely a need I have had for a long time – to fashion a repository for what I cherish most: poetry, images, thoughts, lines of flight [anyone out there ever read Deleuze/Guattari’s  Anti Oedipus? Remember all that cool crazy stuff about smooth vs. striated space, nomadic lines of flight and adornment for speed?]

Howard Storm working on his island of intensity

I had a philosophy professor in college who talked about creating “islands of intensity” in order to break out of the ontic dimension into the transcendental [meaning a higher dimension that reflects upon and is critical of ontic structures] and on through the window of virtuality to  the nomadic realm.  He was a great teacher – made it really fun and meaningful to take a philosophy class. He inspired me to go to Université de Saint Denis in Paris to sit in on one of Deleuze’s classes.  It was that semiotext(e) stuff that was circulating in the late 70’s – 80’s. Fun and fascinating – but way out there.  It’s still around and it is still looks to me like it is impenetrable.

I miss that wonderful philosophy professor, H. Rabbin. I still ruminate on the things he taught in his classes and I’m working on my own island of intensity here at ConnectHook.