Plunder Wonder 2006 + post-11/7 postscript

Jolly Solstice (or whatever winter holiday floats your boat) to you each.

image
                         the google, paulaltobelli

Herein follow my tra la las, vintage + new, for your diversion:
 

Plunder Wonder 2006 + post-11/7 postscript
.

In a sugar plum-colored daze,
May the bounty of days amaze.
The sheep's plush fleece, the gossip of geese,
The cat purrs, licking her elegant whiskers.
Clowns somersault, salts clown around.
We're lucky to have towels and trowels and vowels.
Pluck luck from your pudding like plums.
Succumb to plums.  Steal style.
Flaunt jauntiness.  Hail heartiness.
Be tickled by pickles, relish fellowship.
Butter is better. More butter is best.

When you feel insane,

Butter your brain.
Pirate the treasure of pleasure.

Happiness happens.
Saddle up, pard, and rope them days,
A hot bath, forgiven wrath.
Club a sandwich, belly up to a sandbar,
Have a fine purple purpose,
Flout and rout pouting.
Ponder wonder.
Remember vermilion, the color of embers.
The gilt lilies frothing the field have no guilt.
Ponder only wonder.

.

Be harmless and warm, eschew other arms.
Praise the prize of days, the surprise of days.
'Frolic' means 'swift gladness':
May your gladness be quick and tricksy.
Be facile with docility,
Salacious for salad. Prefer tortes to torture.  Wreak wreaths, not havoc.
Have more siestas, more snoozes, more muses.
Be kind to your kind.

Under the grime of habit is the original shine,

Polish your time.
As you get old, pick courage, not rage.
The cartography of the heart
Is it a maze or a map?

Perhaps it's better to be polite than right?
Get stunned by fun.
With gusto and lusto, be happy, be sappy.
The solstice, the return of light,
The retreat of night
Shining on us all, the same sun
Makes us one;
Equal under the high and shining sky,
All our hearts are star bright.
The only task is to bask
In the holy glow of the fruited earth.
Linger, watch, admire. Remember.
Be a barnacle to your day.
There's lavender, provender, talent, gallantry,
There's silk, salt, and succotash
Be bold, be brash,
Plunder the days for wonder.
****

post-11/7 postscript

After the appalled derisions

With which we watched The Decider’s decisions,

At last this year we surface from the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Sea of Fear

Utterly playful again, like besotted otters;

image
                                            gastonlebrave

“Hoppy Holidays, as a frog might say,” I scribble daffily,

Drunk sans liquor with glee,

Ah, ahhh, we can tell stupid jokes again, verily.

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> 

At least

Mount Rushmore and dimes are safe

From George’s pipsquawk unsage image,

His flaws so fatal to so many who emptily died

For preemption, that rabid abstraction;

Heinous Cheney is deflated, if not checkmated.

 

Remember, friends, the useful nostrum,

‘Don’t let the Perfect

Become the enemy of the Good’:

Our dear Demos will lurch and blunder

But the massive hemorrhaging is ceased;

From the baleful rise of the 4th Reich,

That fathomless fright –

From their full frontal affront,

War as a codpiece,

We are released;

The Shadow, as Jung might have it,

Is revealed so it can be healed.

 

It is a scrumptious time,

Do savor it! 

 

Mirthfully yours,

pogblog

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Please forward this if you like; it’d be an honor.

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If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of pogblogian material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

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It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

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copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

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13 Rainstorm . Cauac . Redbird. West . tzol 39  12.12.06 tues

ffwofw 341§8941/24d17h28m25s31.98g5.1g/1525/770

..

the education-obsessed world begins today with you

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The Lapidary View

The Lapidary View

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> 

    My dear Colin Wilson, a brilliant surveyor of human possibility, often speaks of the exhilarating ‘hawk’s eye view’ which liberates us to our purposeful strengths. For myself, I have settled upon the Lapidary View. I like to treat everything as if it were a jewel. Or rather more shockedly, sudden, surprised – everything as geode.

   The first time I saw a geode, I fainted. The idea that in that apparently dreary rock gleamed this staggering dazzle of crystals like a cave a wizard must live in goaded my heart and brain to permanent agog. I knew at once that the geode was one of these ravishing runes the multiverse loves to spring on you. “Dja get it? Did you get it?” Well, it’d be tough to miss the delectable pagan message of the burning geode. “Everything is jeweled inside, dumbbell, if you crack it open and notice.”

    The second factor for sustainable surprise is the necessary separation of the dependable, the trustworthy, the adorable world from the traitorous tho (sometimes often occasionally) interesting realm of people. The world, grokked, cannot be boring – only people and their hideous and petty betrayals, the dread thereof or the breath-taken recovery from.

    I am happy to shapeshiftilly fling my perception into the dangerous brute beauty of a hawk, as <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Hopkins might have it, but the littler attention is essential for daily and constant surprise.

image
                flowerphotographer roth

The druid secret is to read all those darn oak leaves, a true unlieable text with their audio book of whispered gossip, zephyr-flung. We are immersed in the 3-D, 10-D runes of the great immersion language of the universe.

   I prefer to call the uni-verse, the multi-verse, the many-poem place.  This poetical existence, this living devotedly, deftly alert, tigerfirefierce within the daring, darling poem is untarnishable delight. Very merry. One herein lives on dappled glory – you have the companionship of the whole world.

    This deep sustenance allows forays into the treacherous Land of People as subjects. (People as objets are a whirl & blur, a fine ballet.) What protects you in this plutonium-fraught people environment is the animist strength of the very dust and the languor of the willow, ever faithful, thy sword obsidian humor, your armor the affection of all your utter pals, like Air who never entertains despair.

   The difference between people and the Radiant Daily is that the Radiant is always pure of intent. If it is a sabertooth tiger from the night forest, it may eat you, but it doesn’t deceive you. It is what it is and you can discern it, learn it. People, on the other hand, may pretend to be a lamb when they are really a sabertooth. You pat the soft fleece, sweet and trusting of heart, humming a lullaby, and, crunch, you are become lunch in the sabertooth jaws. You writhe in psychic agony from the slavered pain of unspeakable betrayal.

   You say a preserving detachment is unnatural, blasphemous to the normanrockwellian creed of sentimentality, that fraudulent charade we ought in hallmarkian duty parade. Nay, chivalry itself suggested a preserving distance which allowed an amusing artifice to overlay with pearl of poetry the gruesome cruelty that deceit, if  they even bother to bother, that the beloveds will otherwise wield. Homo &/or homa deceptiens.

     I must hasten to insist that I am the last to allow least of all laud the cynical view. I am daffily baffled at the torrential antics of the human. I am fond but wary.

    Being a poeticist takes some heat off the relationship melon. Like a scientist, a poeticist discovers, studies, researches.

    So we have the untarnishable searing little joys of the lapidary view and the courteous separation of persons and naïve trust. This existential combination makes for a wildly happy and hilarious life.

    The deft attention I refer to in the sustainable surprise part of your perception life is magical in the sense of how many fascinations can be writ on the head of a pin. When you pay deft attention, you are magnemagically drawn to what you see/touch etc.  Consider dear Blake’s ‘universe in a grain of sand.’ Consider Borges’ Funes’ stark and ennui-shattering dog named Spot, named Speck, named Spark. Consider the 25 different words for snow that the Eskimos discern. Consider Keats’ wild surmise.

    Let’s start with attention itself, this precious elixir that makes you an artist in your life. Attention is a substance. You can send it out to touch apparently external objects in the way that an amoeba sends out a pseudopod or false foot. Next time you are deftly intent in noticing something, observe how your attention caresses the tree trunk or flower petals or kitten or whatever. This zephyr attention or deft attention can be sustained all of your life lucidly waking or lucidly musing or lucidly dreaming. This attention is not quite effortless – it requires just the amount of energy that keeps a butterfly from crashing into the flower it’s landing on. When you know that you can be limitlessly devout to this artistry of appreciation of the non-people world, you can, using Beauty, the 8th sense, grokkedly gaze upon your life’s scene with “wild surmise” as Keats has Cortez and his men seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time – your heart becomes indigo, glistening, and oceanic.

    The aleph immensity and intensity of each ‘grain of geode sand’ ignites a tenderness and wonder that cannot be tarnished unless your inner hohum imbecile sets out perversely and deliberately to poison your experience with petty and putrid cynicism. Cry “Piffle” unto that lowlife thief and have the discipline to remind it that you have not yet begun to see the sea or whatever you’re perusing.

    It is very important to me to remind us that, with the slightest practice, this deft attention can be as constant as breathing and as given as breathing. Every darn thing which dwells in the many-poem place wants to preen for you. Masterpiece things like trash and topazes and all else are so used to being ignored by the semi-comatose herd that when someone notices in a lively way, it all wakes up and chatters at you like bright green parrots in the rain forest. Anyone who isn’t an animist just isn’t paying attention. It’s all chortling, clucking, caterwauling, whispering. Oh the sly gossip of the wall and of your dirty dishes.

   Certainly the great perception story of all time is Borges’ Funes the Memorious. Funes is shocked that the dog sleeping in the road at 2:15 in the sun-hot afternoon has only one name. It should have a new name at 2:14 pm and at 2:16 pm. It is this Spot Speck Spark dog that makes you sheepish that you thought you’d seen anything and could file it way as ‘seen.’

    Deft attention is the Celtic druid secret. Attention is the treasure. You always carry it with you. You are always rich beyond measure.

    We can name a few kinds of snow if  bestirred, but the Eskimos have twenty-five words for snow because they have seen it more intently and reverently.

    You learn to levitate by being besotted with the masterpiece of reality engineering in which you are immersed. You get so pleased and startled that you simply find yourself rising.

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If you know or are an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of pogblogian material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com. Please put ‘agent’ in the subject line.

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

…………….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005..2006 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:
http://pogblog.blogharbor.com   

12 Serpent . Chicchan . East . tzol 25  11.28.06 tues

784 days/2y1m23d left of the pipsqueak despotism/1511  

ffwofw1201§26d2h33m11s33.84g3.25g;

mozart..9.77g 

..

the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..

.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead

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Agog agog

Agogagog

   It’s very hard not to church up oneself, to stay astonished. Agog. Or at least startled. Perpetually startled.

   One’s own churchy silt and tarnish are as insidious and pernicious as the monolith <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />fatherlode Church. Re-new, re-feel, raw it up. Put your finger in the socket of the universe. Sluff off your own hidebound tedious kneejerk views. Nail outraged theses on your own thick oak doors. Kick your own cult figures in the rump. Kiss the alabaster cheek of Liberace (or whomever you automatically disdain). Love – Gulp! – Karl Rove. (Only for 5 minutes! For the sake of raw and ringing truth + fairness. Then you can despise him with cleansed hate, polished loathing.)

   Our own Us + Themism is aegean-stablely silted up and encrusted with personally ancient ordure. Any wrath you righteously hurl at them ought boomerang fiercely against your own self-satisfied complacencies.

   Unbesmirch your own black kettle, to be honest and fair. We be so damn cool and they be so damn tepid + tedious. Look at the temple of your ipod. When was the last time you heard a pet song and ran screaming in pierced pain from the room? Is beauty still an icepick to the center of your brain or is it all become audio wallpaper, background musak? Dare we disdain their annoying or poisonous codifications oblivious or, worse, proud of our own? How overweened are we? that is a question.

image
                                                             bluedonkey

..

Odd little proustian vignette from Vie de Moi. I have a little inner medicine pouch of  phrases and tidbits that have been leitmotifs along my life – little delights in the dedark. “Swear that life is good brother – it leaves more time to live” from Cary’s definitely icepick The Horse’s Mouth, a book every artist or desirer of the vivid ought read. “The benign indifference of the universe” from Camus’ The Stranger. “Unquenchable enthusiasm” from some story I read in high school. “Universe in a grain of sand” and “tyger tyger burning bright” from the divine Blake.  “[Properly perceived,] one leaf would suffice for eternity” from Camus. These dear fortune cookies are like Frodo’s vial of elf-light in the stenchy dark of Shelob’s den of dread.

   Over the years I wanted to find the exact place of  the quote from Camus. I knew it was when the protag was in his cell the dawn before his execution looking out the high small barred prison window at the last sere leaf hanging on a bare tree limb. As he is to die shortly, he realizes that properly perceived, “one leaf would suffice for eternity.” This was a secret hub of my whole electric perception wheel, the center of my life’s work to see and re-see and love it all unbearably. It was my mantra and my motto. I described to someone that scene of the prisoner looking out the window and realizing that “[properly perceived], one leaf would suffice for eternity” if not daily surely weekly for forty years.

   I rooted through the book in a few used bookstores along the way and even eventually did a Google book search for 'leaf.' Nada. Finally last weekend, I bought the familiar Gilbert translation of L’Etranger for two dollars & fifty cents and set out to read every word. I did. My “one leaf would suffice for eternity” isn’t there. To the very last page, it could have been there. Mais il n'était pas là. But it was not there.

   How did I latch on to something that wasn’t there? How did it drive my days for a lifetime? Why was I so sure of the whole scene, the whole meaning? The scene isn’t there either. The meaning of dawning coal-to-diamond intensity was lurking there, but not this one sere precious leaf igniting and accompanying a lonely eternity. The marrow devotion, the doggéd daily optimism, were not there. The knight for light under all circumstance wasn’t there.

   How much of the rest of my life didn’t happen?

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Note: There are a number of cultures who don't do plurals or superlatives by adding an 's.' or an 'est.' They do the word twice — therefore agogagog. 

…………<^>…………

If you know or are an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of pogblogian material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com. Please put ‘agent’ in the subject line.

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

…………….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005..2006 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.blogharbor.com  

7 Alligator . Imix . Turtle . East . tzol 241  10.15.06 sun

828 days/2y3m06d left/1467  

ffwofw652.§26d2h33m11s33.84g3.25g;

mozart..9.77g 

..

the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..

.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead

………….<^>…………….          

Plunder Wonder

Jolly Solstice (or whatever winter holiday floats your boat) to you each.

Herein follow my tra la las for your amusement:
 

Plunder Wonder
.

In a sugar plum-colored daze,
May the bounty of days amaze.
The sheep's plush fleece, the gossip of geese,
The cat purrs, licking her elegant whiskers.
Clowns somersault, salts clown around.
We're lucky to have towels and trowels and vowels.
Pluck luck from your pudding like plums.
Succumb to plums.  Steal style.
Flaunt jauntiness.  Hail heartiness.
Be tickled by pickles, relish fellowship.
Butter is better. More butter is best.

When you feel insane,

Butter your brain.
Pirate the treasure of pleasure.

Happiness happens.
Saddle up, pard, and rope them days,
A hot bath, forgiven wrath.
Club a sandwich, belly up to a sandbar,
Have a fine purple purpose,
Flout and rout pouting.
Ponder wonder.
Remember vermilion, the color of embers.
The gilt lilies frothing the field have no guilt.
Ponder only wonder.

.

Be harmless and warm, eschew other arms.
Praise the prize of days, the surprise of days.
'Frolic' means 'swift gladness':
May your gladness be quick and tricksy.
Be facile with docility,
Salacious for salad. Prefer tortes to torture.  Wreak wreaths, not havoc.
Have more siestas, more snoozes, more muses.
Be kind to your kind.

Under the grime of habit is the original shine,

Polish your time.
As you get old, pick courage, not rage.
The cartography of the heart
Is it a maze or a map?

Perhaps it's better to be polite than right?
Get stunned by fun.
With gusto and lusto, be happy, be sappy.
The solstice, the return of light,
The retreat of night
Shining on us all, the same sun
Makes us one;
Equal under the high and shining sky,
All our hearts are star bright.
The only task is to bask
In the holy glow of the fruited earth.
Linger, watch, admire. Remember.
Be a barnacle to your day.
There's lavender, provender, talent, gallantry,
There's silk, salt, and succotash
Be bold, be brash,
Plunder the days for wonder.
****

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> 

Mirthfully yours,

pogblog

…………<^>…………

……..……<^>………..…..

If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of pogblogian material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

…………….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.blogharbor.com

7 Water . Muluc . The River . East . tzol 189  12.07.05 wed

ffwofw 341§8941/24d17h28m25s31.98g5.1g/1151

..

the education-obsessed world begins today with you

………….<^>…………….