22 To Giulia!

To   Julia  Dear!

Aaaahhhh......revelation......!   

Ooooooohhhhhhh..................Giulietta   mine....................................

your    Romeo    that   so    far   but   a   mere   bud    has   been,

the   trembling   larva    contained   like  a   chrysalis   in   its  coddling, 

of   a    flower,      

uncertain    as  to   wether    sprout  or   not,

for   fear  of   a  denial   from   Thee,     

soon    a   fool   blossomed   flower   shall   indeed  become   for   Thee    my   sweet    

the   radiance  and    warmth  of   Thy    countenance 

that   from   the  sun  like  all  the  Cosmos   does,

including   I, 

sustenance   drawing,

for  all  that  we   mere  mortals

divine  love   we  dare  to call.   

20. Of Gaseous Clouds

Of   Gaseous  Clouds  

Floatingabout  the  Nullarbour  Never-Never   Wastes.

(  dedicated   to  sexually-arousing  Grotty-Yachty,  
David   the  Bard  of  Bloggers  
also   known  at  Bigpond/BigBlog  as   the  gaseous,  vaporous,   laced  poet,  
Timothy   the   doubter  about   and   finder of   pins  in  the   haystacks,   
Yamarka  the   eternal  winger  and  his  Ten  Canoe   people,  
and   the  'o'-so-loving  Anglicans ).

Sometimes  I  sit  and   wonder
in   analogies   drifting,  curling  and  twirling 

like  smoke  does,  randomly,

like  a  fat   gaseous   cloud,

patrician  looking,  all  white,
with  just  a   twinge   of   grey,

that   carbon  emissions   betray,
probably   emitted   in  far-away  Queensland,
by   those   big,  fast-copulating  and  breeding,  
mightily  and  loudly-farting   water  buffaloes,   
imported   from   Indonesia   by  some  Australian  dill,
buffaloe-loving,

Rudd  is  becoming  increasingly   worried   about,

yes,   as  I   the   cloud,    was  saying,  resting  awhile,
before  resuming   my  drifting, 

to  better   contrast  the   immensity 
of   the   bleu  sky  around,
in  contemplations  immersed
of   self-possessing  doubts
watching   the  red  vastness

  of  the Nullarbour  plain  below,

of  Yamarka  and  of  the  Ten  Canoes-people
   the  incomprehensible  delight,
   resulting   from   too   much   sunlight 

on   bare  headed   skulls
   when   still   young,
    for   the   want 
of a  good   bush  hat   I   guess.
........................................................................
Strangely   enough  
my   everlasting  obsessions  arise
of  how  the  Arabs  for  Salam  Cafe’s  
now    highly   noted  and  
in  even  greater repute  than   ever  before,
   could    have  had  the   brains   to  discover 
of  the  big   Zero,
   the   vast array  of  virtues  and  uses,  

without   which   zero

    neither   God,  

Who is  reputed   to  have   created   everything  

out  of  nothing (nihilo)  or   zero,  

nor   capitalism,  

which   would  have  been  limited  

to  a   jewish   abacus  to   count,

could  have   prospered.

Bill  Gate  himself  

would   not  have  had  a  PC  

to  play  around   with   and   

the  chance   to  invent  

Window   Microsoft  to  boot.

Especially  I,   the   gaseous   cloud 

which   aforesaid   I   talked   to  you  about,  

rememberst   thou? 

Even   I   wonder  of   why,

while  the  West   chose   the   Zero   

to   appear  as   a   big   ‘ O ',
    like  a   big   holy   halo
   or    to  be   more   earthly   bound,
even   like  onto  the  large,
   bovine,  arctic    blue    eyes   of    G.Y., 
now  probably   sunk  off   the   Queensland  coast
where  she   used   to  live  on  a  dilapidated   yacht
.............................................................................
yes  my  beloved  G.Y. who, like  the  Greek  ladies

 extolled  and  sung   about

  by   even   the   great   Homer   himself,
for  their  round,  large,  innocent    bovine-like   eyes,
which  looking  up   at   you
    as   if  in    eternal  and  innocent  wonder,  struck,   perhaps,   
who  is  to  know?, 

perhaps  this  having  been  the  result
  of   some  superhuman,  mythical,  orgasmic   feat  

her ancestral  DNA  may  have  indulged  in,

  in   times   memorable,   bygone   and   past, 

halas!

( don’t  you   be  fooled   by   these,  oh   stranger ),  

gently  stirring  your   innards 

like  a    gallon  of  olive oil;

how  the  Arabs   decided   that,

perhaps   more   wisely and  fittingly  than the  West,

that  the   zero   should  rather  be   shown 

as  a    fig-shaped,   twisted,   squashed,

long   suffering  smallish   ‘o’, 

an   ‘o '  that   appears  as  if  traumatized  

by   some   sodomitic   experience, 

or  perhaps   just  piles,   or  even   both, 

God   may   forbid,   halas!

all   contracted,   twisted  and  anorexic-like, 

perhaps   to  improve  the  picture  slightly,

perhaps  as  it   being   too   dry,

even  like  the   little 'o' 

a  de  Laurents-model   

would   probably   sport,

as  if  just   out  of   a  sodomitic,  spasmodic   and  spastic 

orgasmic  gasping,

or,  just  after  an   aggravating  cracking

induced   by   vigorous  farting,  in  turn

induced  by  loud  laughing  brought  about  

by Salem  Cafe’s  poor   antics,  

not   to  mention

    the  more  subdued  and   discreet antics

   resulting  from  effeminate 

oxfordian  and  cambridgean,  

pseudo-Gregorian

Anglican  chantings.

Honny   Soit   Quy   Mal  Ye   Pense.       

19. Of Passion and Action.........................

This  Poem   I   dedicate   to   all  the   girls   I   know,  in  particular    G.Y   who   has   always   provided   moral   support   to  my   blogging  activities. 

David   I  must   also    mention  as  our    official   bloggers'  Bard

who    triggered   my    efforts   at   " listening  to  the  inner  Voice ".

Of Passion and Action,

or,  Vice  and   Virtue,

and

of Ludwige and Luthien

norwegian twinned nymphs.

Of Passions and Actions which Motion inform

I shall here sing oh divine Muses,

Muses not Muse since mighty the task is

of all celestial deities and nymphs terrestrial

the approval and smile requiring.

Of Passions and Actions then,

of which,

in human and godly Deeds alike

wise Aristotle the stagirite

did measure the range and heights

defining these as Virtue

when from amidst their span,

in not exactly middling proportions

between  the  extremes,

which   Passion  and  Action  are 

the Motions of which  arise to those godly heights

that both Olympians and Hyperboreal

Artic and Antartic,

nordic and australic

godly abodes are.

Abodes  of  those whom Sir Laurence Gardner’s Anunnaki calls,

who  mightily  inhabit  such  heights

to which, from our Beings

Motions they cause continuously to ascend

as the reaction to the Motions by which

the gods keep on

either blessing or harassing us,

and that they cause descendingly

and condescendingly to reach us,

in order to laboriously amuse the One Who,

Alone,

Unity is also called and Jehovah,

Whose boredom they relieve

to avoid a return to the eternal and

a-sensual bliss

in which mortals and Creation alike

are just that a-sensual Nihilo,

that  Nothingness, that Void

in which God,  

IT( He/She)Who  is,

 is but an invisible, self-subsisting,

etc. etc. etc. 

Dot.

Vast as the subject and the mystery of it all is,

I shall it analogically to you virtually  esplain

oh dear cottonwhool-brained fellows of mine,

although always partially and in an incomplete fashion,

since of the gods to us the similarity

is not given to fully expose, to  us

who are to earth bound and find it hard to rise

to the ethereal and thought-thinning heights,

where it all can, always analogically and as  if   through  a  veil,

in a human fashion clear become.

I shall then call upon this task to accomplish,

Ludwige and Luthien, sisters, nymphs to my aid

who semi-divinely reside and courtly rule

in those hyperboreal arctic heights

which to the mighty grecian Olympus are twinned,

sisters who aptly can represent to us poor mortals,

Action and Passion in an erotically-amorous paradigmatic fashion

which more accessible is to our lusty and carnal attractions,

however intended by the Almighty

to be perfectible and meant to rise,

levitated as we supposedly are when sublimated

through the ordeals that Scarcity,  Entropy and Necessity

through the Motions, purifyingly placed on our earthly paths,

in order for these Motions, Virtues to become
through  practice  and  use.

I said analogically, meaning partially and imperfectly

since it is not fit and just to exactly aim

at a knowledge of things which

while gross and objectionable in us mortals

yet still divine and endearing are

when suffered and annunakely-wise performed.

Remember in fact oh cottonwhool-brained mortals

that in this song the judgment is from them

and not from us directed,

not relatively to our perfectibility

but to their hyperboreal and olympic loftiness  that  is  perfect.
And  this  is  the  stage  at  which  Charity  or  Agape'
make  their   presence  felt  as  absolute  peaks  
that  cannot  extremes  conceed.    

My joy bounds does not know, ecstatic becoming and mystic

when upon the sisters I finally can call,

having exhausted the unsavory and hard task

of clearing the way to them

that cottonwhooled human brains

must trod in order to their heights to rise.

Remember oh reader of mine, that the issue is not simple,  
but  paradoxical  indeed-:

Although to Eros, so  popular with us,  

the unavoidable first rung   belongs  

on  the   ladder of   analogical realities

that finally reaches  even  upo  to  God
from  God   down  to  us,  Agape'   flows,
Eros  to  redeem  and   lift,  and  this  Grace  is  called.  

 To human poles  of  Passion  and   Action

on the earthly line

there also correspond ones which are semi-divine on high,

and these are the ones which cause the rise on high
along  the   middling   term  between   both  extremes
in  accord   to   another  of  the   absolutes    
like  Agape'   above,  that   Justice  is  called.

Ludwige and Luthien, sisters, nymphs semi-divine,

are   semi-divine  Poles

who so differ  in  loftiness 
from poles of the same  and one Motion,
which   sublimated  must  be,

 human  and  mortal  ceasing to be,

by the subterfuge of   humans   rising  out

of the level, low line

that both of these connects  at 

of  human knowledge's  horizon's  the circle,

humans enslaving down-to-earth to their humanity  that  is  born  mortal,
however  paradoxically   also  immortal
if   the  soul  is   the  portal  that  to  the   divine   aspires.

The moving Force that from the middling part of such a line

such feat encompasses of human motion rising divinely,

powered through its lofty Poles,
those   below  and   above  alike,
in  a   conspiracy  allied,

by the Almighty Divine,

Virtue by Aristotle is called,

and is a link between Ludwige, Luthien and I,

in a blessed triangle that is semi-divine,

which all who strive and graced are, similarly entwines,

so that by rising they might fulfill that destiny

that to humanity was since the Beginning potentially assigned,

to become through Faith, Hope and Charity,

virtuous   Motion  and   Act.

...............................................................................

I shall now endeavour to tell imperfectly
and   sportingly   for   some   glee  to   realize    

of Ludwige and Luthien the arcane semblances,

so that you also oh cottonwhool-brained mortals

may recognise them when your turn may come

to rise even such as I may,  
when  so   graced,  
blissfully   do.

..................................................................................

Ludwige is Nibelungian and a Walkiria,

of Wagner’s and Goethe’s the filia,

of rotundities full,

both of the concave and convex sorts,

abundanttly endowed

such that even a constipated, anorexic little greek geometrician, 
who deprived of epic motions

by its elocutions and bickerings,

in the Agora’ continuously measuring and arguing

of abstract theorems,

artificially complicating everything and

insisting in only using letters instead of numbers

until the arrival of Mohammed

who blessed by the Moors is called,

who such nonsense exorcised.

The Greek only an unmarked ruler and a compass

to draw the geometrical figures allowed,

in order to demonstrate of Euclide’s,   the master,

the divine but wasted brightness.

Even such a geometrician of common sense so deprived

could appreciate  of  Ludwige's

the osculating and aloft-rising potentialities,

which extended from the line’s and proportionalities’ the science

to the  one  of  the circle and its circularities and irregularities,

even becoming tri-dimensional,

from conic sections giving rise

to parabolic, hyperbolic and ellypsoidic notions

with their asymptotic motions

which gave rise to trigonometry with all its sexual notions,

which the astronomers inspired revolutions various to observe

of the celestial bodies which also began to have Motions

whereas before had possessed

centrality, impassivity, staticity and eternity.

Which notions provided the spring

to Descartes, Leibnitz and Newton, etc.

to ponder and weigh the infinitesimally small,

that calculus became called, 
that  opened  the  way   to  the    invisible  motions   
of  the  elementary  particles 
   among   which   God    ITSELf   
used  to  hide   and  rest  sometime,  
awakened  by  the   rude,  petulant,   arrogant  
 Shabbath-chanting   
of   the    confounded,    self-deluded,   self-chosen
all-others   excluding   Abirus,   
the  Prophets  destroying
trouble-arousing   masters.

Philosophy in turn further seduced was

which thus left Theology behind,

who the Queen of Science had been called

without her maid to be served by.

However one must gratefully assent to the truth that

before the maid seduced was,

thanks to Aristotle’s distinctions between Potentiality and Act,

common sense had already begun to awake

in greek theoretical semi-platonic minds,

which the Ideas believed to be living celestial realities,

which through knowledge alone could humanity of Virtue instruct,

rather than to ascend  to  the  possibility  that a human could only be able to do so 

through Grace, experience and praxis,

that knowledge should inform rationally,discriminatingly and judgementally, until willingly

right Motion could become Virtue in right Act.

In fact, analogically speaking of her as Passion,

that  at  its  human  extreme   even  Vice   could   be,

in dear, opulently-built Ludwige,

all this had paradoxically a  beginning  had.

(   to  be   continued )

18. An Ode to David,

An   Ode  to  David,  

our    blogging   Minstrel.

Oh gentle and sweet-tongued troubadour

who like a gentle and soothing breeze

from western shores of distant seas

tides brings,

it is of time rather than of distance cruel

that thy well fitting and eclectic words

here and now memories bring

like ghosts of ages past-gone.

I welcome you therefore to these parched shores

that dreaded Global Warming shall make even more so,

that monster which, evolution that never resting stays

shall bend to ever more increase the layers of cottonwool

that the Good Lord above decreed  by

undeserved kindness moved, to give

for the protection of the halas already tiny brains

of us poor dwellers on these god-forsaken shores.

Thy gentle voice that like the harp

of that ancestor of yours,

whom ancient myths from Greece tell us arose,

whose songs lions and beasts tamed untold,

shall likewise my pain and anguish soothe,

that cottonwooled, poor, tiny, unreasoning brains

to rage and anger move untold,

and Ferrerix Australix, who

"the gentle-hearted" is called,

make a gentle, barbuto-Templar

again become. 

"Non   nobis,   non   nobis, 

sed   ad   Nomini   Tui,

das   Gloriam,   Domine."
 

17. To Luthien a Norwegian Nymph.

To Luthien a Norwegian Nymph.

Oh elusive and mysterious nymph

from hyperboreal artic rings

with the sad and apologetic smile that

MonaLisa-like, of Sartre’s the existential wit

complainingly craving that divine essence

that elusively turns -out

miserable human existence to be

whether one of a religious or non-religious

frame of mind structured-with is,

thy smile shows frozen through your

thinly-parted, cheekely-promising, turgid lips

the pearly white of your tiny predatory teeth.

I dream of the desire of thee

when sleep deserts of longings-full

my lonely, tormented bachelor-nights

that vigilantly and expectantly,

always in vain, wait for you.

" Halas!"

I tell myself at times as these

which an eternity to me appear to be,

" What would I do if instead of here

where nights are just

the sevenhundredthirtieth of a year's  fraction

were I to be there where

my Luthien abides

a night there lasting half a year?

What would I do

if during the protracted hyperboreal artic nights

had I to pine disconsolately and sigh

for her elusive and evanescent

presence and sight?

I surely would then wish

during such an eternal night

that, thus deprived of her sight

from the lack of her

I should surely die".

16. Oh Woman from Islam.

To   G.Y.  and  David   the  bloggers'  Bard. 

To   all  the   Women  in  my  Life.

Oh woman from Arabia,..................... 

you fill my sleep with wondering

the mystery of your uncomplayning

all-hiding,     of your stoic soul   all-shrouded

in an all encompassing black cowling

which like a funereal shroud

as if in an eternal mourning

that never respite nor reprieve showing,

condems you as if to an eternal oblivion lowing.

When in my youth along the asphalted road

of the North African shore on a two-wheeled steed

moved with the speed that envying camels and donkeys

with feigned silence, the aloof and disdeigning twisting

of their worried and parched lips alone their envy showed

shimmering in the rising heat-waves,

lines of these black-shrouded women of Arabia

as if an mirage I saw,

silently for miles untold,    trodding

like   beasts  of   burden  loaded

but I was young and shy  and  

by  my   very   youth's   longings  worried

and in my innocent deaf-like guilt, and   worry

I just   kept going

in dread of the ubiquitous unchanging and unrelenting

all-shrouding Sharia Law,

that even the sand  as witness   holds

Their silent screams of corresponding and mutual longing

now in my twilight years I hear

that to my speeding young soul,

then as if in escape engaged,

in my sleep my delayed new-being now reach

with silent questions as to the reasons why-:

Of all this jealous inhumane shrouding,

all deprivations in its blackness hiding,

of the inhumane limitations that for ages untold

the arabian Eve have kept frozen

as if in a dreaded criogenic morgue

all shrouded in black, hidden, removed, despoiled

of all the freedom that God by whichever name

one may wish to call gave to humankind

as the inalienable birthright of all.

Your silent screams oh desert-dwelling, poor arabian souls

in female forms to God born,

from your black-shrouded forms to me now reach

my sleep disturbing

through understandings and awarenesses that time took to know

and tell me of the chains that for times untold

your human souls have kept and held

in the oblivion that is the fruit

of the eternal limbo of your world which

to me rather seems like a hell on earth.

Is this the price that you must pay

for man’s predatory and uncontrolled

hubris and lust that limits does not heed

to his weak flesh and nature

which wishes to punish and destroy

the object lof his lusts?

that needs to put in chains and shrouds

the one whom God designed and assigned

for man to love and cherish thus in vain?

Where is the so vastly and ubiqously vaunted

of God the mercy and compassion,

that in the the  loving  Fatihah wondrously

these very godly words like in an ocean swim?

By thin, sharp, cruel lips,

the predatory teeth barely hiding,

the words professed are,

with soul uncommitted and hypocritical body gymnastics,

that of empty ritual reek.

An empty ritual that with vanely professing praying lips

the good, unknowing, well-meaning

women-loving, Mohammed gotten must have

from the Pharisees of old,

whom Jesus the Good Rabbi and the very Son of God

had already to Gehenna thrown

and condemned for their showy of piety-shows.

Oh  shrouded   woman of Arabia,

my heart goes,  crying-out to Thee!

15. Of Bloggers’ Divinisation.

 Note-:   The  blogger   is  looking   for     some    guitar-strumper   to    put   music   to   this   worthy   song  which,   when   sung  in  a  pub   would    result  in   long   sessions  of   mead   consumption,   mutual  edification    and     joy,   etc.   etc..

 Of Bloggers’ Divinisation.

Oh fellow-bloggers

from both genders called

and even thou oh Bimbo

thou sweet hybrid twit,

unlike great Shakespeare who

the Romans’ ears on loan asked for

on Antony’s behalf

of great Julius’ the tragic end

and  dramatic  eulogy

to posterity spin-off,

thus proving that concealed within him,

as true as an Englishman can be,

the Romans  he   thought nothing else

to hold between their ears but these

not even the cottowool that we,

from southern, parched and sunny lands

which from emerald Albion cool and fair much differ,

must hold in order to our tiny brains protect,

assigned for this purpose for our own comfort

not less than by Mighty God Himself/Herself/Itself.

Nay, more charitably than Shakspeare

shall I my dear fellow-bloggers

here act with thee

to show of you my high opinion

which I between my ears

loftyly indeed and in my very heart

I truly hold of you,

nay, of you my worthy bloggers fair

of your noble thoughts the loan

I shall here and now ask forthwith.

Then lend me your thoughts oh bloggers mine

and loftily together we shall

to hyperborean hights rise there

where of frozen mist and ice

our frozen artic love, Luthien and I,

painfully yet passionately

do weave and spin,

which paradox does not at all mean

since the pain that love that truly is

passively must suffered be

and this is why ‘passionate ‘ called is.

Your thoughts than lift up mine to reach

and see how spiritual our bloggers’ bonds

really are that together us drive

through interminably, endless uploaded Posts

which share our very souls,

wits, likes and dislikes alike,

not to mention the vile moments when

like the vilest among us,

Ferrerix the Templar we fall in

when to his bad temper roused is

who also denominated Australix is

in order to honour give

to the new and mighty land

which he has been commissioned to fix,

flowing with wine and roast-beef,

food which although mightely

by all Templars enjoyed

halas his gout excites

thus converted must he be

to eternal vegeterian fare and watery drinks

which sufferingly must he be satified with

no passion indeed is he

assuredly I can assure you, finding in this

unlike the love that Luthien and I enjoy indeed

which very passionate is

in spite of the frozen ice and frosty mists

of hyperboreal Norway where my dear darling abides in.

Sometimes to battles drawn are we indeed

like Gentle-Hearted the Templar in which

vile and insulting verbiage mutually hurled

by pens which wielded are like swords

the storm of our temper vile

intended to mutual hurt inflict

when finally,

satiated and spent like a becalmed sea

that aforewith raging has been,

or rather like baboons

from dark Etiopia’s shaded highlands

which with their small button-like eyes

like bits of glass glittering in the sun

their cunning 
and aflame with sudden rage

which for no known cause

a fight suddenly begin

and suddenly illogically also end,

by some fluttering butterfly distracted perchance,

 we cease from fight some whily diplomatic ruse

 to mutually spin

in order for the folly to cease

and our loving purely platonic

relations to resume forthwith.

Through Comments which sorely tax our patient souls

interminably, forbearingly, forgivingly,

christian-like we labour to comment worthily

whenever Telstra’s BigPond’s BigBlog’s

crummy editing programs one has to deal with,

through sheer illogicality and nitwitry

of their programmers who

as if from some Neo-Nazy Den

originated who censor and

suspiciously analyse our messages

with automatically-run programs which

judgment are not endowed with.

These Comments when answered

by insiders and outsiders alike

are the ties which Online

the ethereal waves of Internet quasi-divine,

everyone together link

in a vast World-Net ubiquitous

that even to God on High Above can reach.

Please do your thoughts still keep rising with mine

and consider that generally, few among us

have ever gazed upon the living form

 of any one other of us

as if restrained by some arcane and unheard of Rule

especially if of an opposite gender be,

 the   idiosyncrasy  of  which, 

 typically australian-like   being,  

as  in  the  case  for   me   of 

G.Y.,  Shadow,  Diane  and  Cindy,   Dear  Cindy 

who,  of  my  Luthien,  painfully  reminds  me. 

 Spiritually, contentedly

if unawarely so of this,

except that I am here and now

pointing this out to you

as the mission and duty of a true Bard should be

with this of poetry an unworthy script,

which David of all Bards known and unknown

the worthy paradigm

would certainly condemn as unfit

we soar on  high  as if little of the Internet

the semi-gods  led by worthy

and subtilely-everything-analysing

pondering and all-doubting, challenging Tim,

a   Master  at  finding  in-the-haystack,  pins.

Dear    fellow   bloggers,

this Song has now reached

its twilight and end

and I feel moved to ask you

in  a   sad   yet   joyful  mood  

as   of  Luthien's   the  dream   I   behold  

which  never  far,   cloud and heavenly-like  

before   you  suspended   is, 

a democratically motivated inquest-:

" Are we perchance divine becoming

as worthy and dreaming

De Chardin the Jesuit

of  Ignatius  Loyola's  a   worthy  son

mightely dreamed that humanity,

nay,   the   cosmos  as  a   whole,  

not  just  us   bloggers,

would divine become

once reaching that final goal

that the Omega point he calls?"

Amen.

Note-: By the Omega point Chardin intended Jesus of Nazareth as the Christ, who represents for Christians the highest point in the History of Human Evolution.