Mimimus Explains The Pluribus Unum Thing
And now come poets each century heavier than
before, heavier than the other few, this new one, too,
only bards, a real few, to bar, board up the big gaps,
O great light gaping torn, oft thee sung,
slung over shoulder, hauled, the burden,
o the load
it is now become.
poem by Warren Falcon
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Mimimus Creaks Oar
I pose you you're question:
shall you uncover honey / where maggots are?
- Charles Olson
myself
the intruder, as he was not - Creeley
1
I, Minimus, tongue in cheek, creak oar, row out, too,
into the Homeric sea, not old Greek singer, long of breath,
but as Winslow, local seer, his paints, straw hat consigned
to mistook heroics, pure accident, radio maritime, ask
captain if row boat worthy of even an American sea,
projected too, to go a-row row rowing,
claw oar into wave tipped whitecap safe perimeters,
smell of earth nasal-yet to keep oriented to dirt.
Have, instead, reaped I redundant whirlwind
play America the Fool again, naively trusting my,
and country's, destiny are one, always good in spite
of Melville's long eloquent discantus supra librum -
above the book - more truing than any, to spoil it,
the projected pluribus unum thing, for Mayflower
folks tripping lightly between the hawthorns,
their imported gardens, 'irritant tomahawks
can only turn out swell, ' they think like waves
gathering in sea full of themselves individually,
Destined they then and do think to break just
for,
O America, thee.
And now come poets
each century heavier than
before, heavier than the other few,
this new one, too, only bards,
a real few, to bar,
board up the big gaps,
O great light gaping torn,
oft thee sung,
slung over shoulder,
hauled, the burden,
o the load
it is now become.
poem by Warren Falcon
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Mimimus Lectures Himself - Pluribus Not Unus, Culpas Minor - Upon American Bards
.
I pose you you're question:
shall you uncover honey / where maggots are?
- Charles Olson
myself
the intruder, as he was not - Robert Creeley
1
O great light inward,
which cannot (what can)
be said of America obsessed with manners
no matter the carnage stretched to dry
in a land where, Vonnegut clear here,
'love may fail but politeness shall prevail.'
Blind, yes. As yet can't, perhaps refused,
reconcile the projected landscape, the leaking vessel,
landlocked, of State, Vespucius Vestibulis, Topeka grasping
still, scratching at collective far flung coastal doors
for the 'in between' is no place to be.
All things gray there, politely,
plus visionaries, artists, hog-tied,
flee though are, ironically, there born.
And have not been gripped, me,
'cept by proxy, as were these
'just' poets - justified - trying to true
variant visions into One, no matter
imprecision of facts, imposed muddles they be,
O Topeka ongoingly o're and o're, ore of meanings
which are all spelt 'MESSIAH' - always this begins
and ends such messes entire.
Still we call it a country.
2
Reading two still continentally
shifting greats, Olson, Pound,
of late full of their breath,
'Of thee I sing' America's over-long exhalation
in Whitman's overlong beard and o're shadowing.
Rest of us in their vacuum
remain, wander, poems
strapped to faces like respirators,
every out breath labored,
ponderous, poised, has their
stench but is a good one what
keeps on giving though ship be
foundered from the start
(see ahead to Odysseus
cyclopean trickstering) .
These,
others,
seek for -
all mining after,
pining amongst
the pinons,
insisting on -
O absolution,
that 'it is only that
the light, o great light,
of the land projected,
was in our eyes and we
could only see our way
to slash, kill toward said projected.'
Blindly now,
still, we seek looking back, vision,
darker inhabitants
diseased off,
killed, or shipped
on good Christian ships,
borders now paced of 'good citizens'
hungry for even more darker blood,
'enough' not a democratic word,
but 'more' (to Boesky asked
how much is enough? He, 'A little more') .
O blinding light.
Odysseus to Polyphemus
the real issue here, entitled marauder,
the unspoken, disavowing thief.
Every shipwrecked citizen located in
Odysseus's answer he to Polyphemus,
one-eyed, mono-visioned shepherd
mourning his lost ones
(lost to Kingly entitled hand) ,
safe-keeper,
none too bright
but constant,
faith-keeping,
Odysseus-blinded,
who calls out,
Who are you who unsights me,
scatters my sheep?
Odysseus, wily -
cleverness, not faith,
is rewarded, the valued
in this projected land -
calls back,
not afflicted of conscience,
'I am No Man! '
This the dilemma of all these
our projected land's inhabitants,
Citizens No Man, willfully ignorant
(the greatest sin) or wide-eyed
pretending. Odysseus
in sheep skin more the predator,
'No One' lobbing rocks,
pretending to shepherd.
Let's name it true, Empire.
3
Monet might have seen,
giving darkness in Giverny,
defiant to the last optics fired out inevitably,
nerve light made the more dipped, smeared
on clutched pallet bent to his gaping will.
Some yawping yank,
all sneeze and no hanky,
yelling, 'shut yer mouth ope'd, no manners, '
Claude struggling to 'ope' eyes,
wider see.
Was failing him the light.
Closing-in world reduced to all horizon.
Tints, brushes, memory
frames these final pieces
canvased, inwardly conformed,
recalled light more light than all raw day.
4
On the other hand I have only tried
to survive, swollen small, myself,
find ways to be in it at all, appalled
hero shrunk to size, compensation
for grandness, a player 'pon an acre
of God on yon Calvin's hill, ol' John
yawning counts his sins a school
boy his sums, insistent dirt
(because it's there) persistent
cleaning his nails;
but tilled I Bible,
King James,
preferred work that,
sounds therein
instilled instead
a-poem-ing then
off at last from
roller holy hill,
a love affair oracular, called,
the Word out-wrung, wrenched,
I always the winch and never the Bride.
Again poetic little feet tracing circles, little breaths that may make a one
entire
once expired.
5
I, Minimus, tongue in cheek, creak oar, row out too
into the Homeric sea, not old Greek singer, long of breath,
but as Winslow, local seer, his paints, straw hat consigned
to mistook heroics, pure accident, not to check radio
maritime, ask captain if row boat worthy of even an
American sea, projected too, can go a-row row rowing,
claw oar into wave tips' whitecaps safe perimeters,
smell of earth nasal-yet to keep oriented to dirt.
Have, instead, reaped I redundant whirlwind
play America the Fool again, naively trusting my,
and country's, destiny are one, always good in spite
of Melville's long eloquent 'discantus supra librum' -
above the book - more truing than any, to spoil it,
the projected 'pluribus unum' thing, for Mayflower
folks tripping lightly between the hawthorns,
their imported gardens and God, irritant tomahawks
'can only turn out swell, ' thought they like waves
gathering in sea full of themselves individually,
Destined, they then and do think, to break just for,
O America, thee.
And now come poets each century heavier than
before, heavier than the other few, this new one, too,
only bards, a real few, to bar, board up the big gaps,
O great light gaping torn off, oft thee sung,
slung over shoulder, hauled, the burden,
o the load
it is now become.
poem by Warren Falcon
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What is heavier than..........?
What is heavier than many a thing?
Heavier than tons
of load,
than earth and sky,
than stars and oceans,
than luxurious obsessions,
than persona and perfections
Tell me O, heart
I pine to know
My knowledge is
melting
like snow
But in a corner
of my heart
I hear a whisper
quite apart,
From the sound of
beating
and bubbling,
Words are heavier than
many a thing,
They make or
mar
the human life,
In the broad field
of
unending strife.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Windows
Windows are forbidden in this season,
The weather may be against, for the calamities;
Open your door to the wind of heroes,
My worst enemy is raised beyond doubt;
The volumes of work committed
Has combined and rested, forming happiness;
Their worlds were over-ridden without us,
You are gaping at my face that shines
Because the light is kind, and the world is one.
Look through the gaps in the wall
And adjust to scents of pleasure,
The wall is heavier than stone.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Journey
The dream hangs heavy in the air,
Heavier still is the burden on his back,
The child trudges along the dusty road
His mother in tow –
The sun rises and sets on him
A child, a boy, a man
The burden shifting between the back and the heart!
They try desperately to reach out to light,
Before the darkness wears them out.
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Savior! I've no one else to tell
217
Savior! I've no one else to tell—
And so I trouble thee.
I am the one forgot thee so—
Dost thou remember me?
Nor, for myself, I came so far—
That were the little load—
I brought thee the imperial Heart
I had not strength to hold—
The Heart I carried in my own—
Till mine too heavy grew—
Yet—strangest—heavier since it went—
Is it too large for you?
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Poverty is the only load which is the heavier the more loved ones there are to assist in bearing it.
The Lone Eye
Be steady
Haul the load
Heavier than the word
Till destiny greets you.
Don’t blink
For the load’s sake
Lest it strays away
Without a lone eye’s light.
Left to haul the load
All energetic eyes closed
Giving you the bitter chance?
Of hauling the blind lot
Till destiny greets you
Don’t blink.
Dedication: To all my kindred
Monday,21st October 1991.
Chapananga, Chikwawa, Malawi.
poem by Isaac Maliya
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A successful lie is doubly a lie; an error which has to be corrected is a heavier burden than the truth.
quote by Dag Hammarskjold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Get Out The Map
Im gonna clear my head
Im gonna drink that sun
The saddest sight my eyes can see
Is that big ball of orange sinking slyly down the trees
Sittin in a broken circle while you rest upon my knee
This perfect moment will soon be leaving me
Suzanne calls from boston the coffees hot the corn is high
And that same sun that warms your heart will suck the good earth dry
With everything its opposite enough to keep you crying
Or keep this old world spinning with a twinkle in its eye
Get out the map
Get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
Well leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Dont drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone
Im gonna clear my head
Im gonna drink that sun
Im gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young
Joni left for south africa a few years ago
And then beth took a job all the way over on the west coast
And me Im still trying to live half a life on the road
Seems Im heavier by the year
(heavier by the year)
And heavier by the load
(heavier by the load)
Why do we hurtle ourselves through every inch of time and space
I must say around some corner I can sense a resting place
With every lesson learned a line upon your beautiful face
Well amuse ourselves one day with these memories well trace
Get out the map
Get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
Well leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Dont drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone
Im gonna clear my head
(Im gonna clear my head)
Im gonna drink that sun
(Im gonna drink that sun)
Im gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young
Im gonna clear my head
Im gonna drink that sun
Im gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sadness Of Other People
when i see the sadness of other people
those that walk without aims and look beyond what they have
at the hold of their hands
something inside me says
all is fair in this world
to each his own now
each man carrying his own burden
his cross
and as i too carry mine, shall they too carry theirs
without asking when will this myth of suffering end?
when will this sadness last?
this misery that looks for company
their load that lightens mine
the feeling that
theirs is heavier somehow tell about the comfort
of this situation
everyday to each his own and in order to have hope
one says
mine is lighter and
i always have the reason
to move on with my life and just be silent
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If our religion only proclaims a high standard of ethics, then our religion is a burden heavier than we can bear.
quote by Rolland W. Schloerb
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Get Some Well Deserved Rest
Get some well deserved rest
My dear poet
Because you worked already 120 hours
So that you could stay on top of your work
Yes the stress come with your work load
And sometimes the work load is much heavier then you already know
Also I want to tell you that you shouldn't kill yourself over work
But sometimes it is ok to take a rest
And when you take a rest you will be able to work better
Also sometimes your mind gets overworked
And that is because your mind runs out of energy
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Moral Instransigence
Wide-gaping gaps
between moral intransigence that’s sterile
and intelligence, which good scholars abhor
but fanatics totally ignore,
can’t be bridged by bigots, causing peril
to everyone, perhaps.
Richard Bernstein reviews 'The Burden of responsibility: Blum, Camus, Aron and the French 20th Century, ' by Tony Judt (University of Chicago Press) in the the NYT, January 6,1999. Judt writes that to Aron the French revolutionary myth was to “bridge the gap between moral intransigence and intelligence”.
1/6/99,6/20/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Despair Is Heavy
DESPAIR IS HEAVY
Despair is heavy
And I am heavier than I have been in a long time-
The cold and the dark and the damp
Also weigh me down.
I still can move
But more slowly now
And with much more aching.
When will the minor pain become paralysis?
And when will the weight kill me?
Perhaps I am done forever
And will never move again
And the weight will take me all the way down
So low I will not even be aware anymore of my despair.
It is a heavy day now
And I am too heavy a person
And Heaviness is in the air
And rules the Universe
And everything is sinking down
And falling into its own meaninglessness.
Life is heavy
I am heavy
Everything is heavy now and getting heavier.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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With A Golden Necklace
THIS page a chain to bring thee burns,
That, train'd to suppleness of old,
On thy fair neck to nestle, yearns,
In many a hundred little fold.
To please the silly thing consent!
'Tis harmless, and from boldness free;
By day a trifling ornament,
At night 'tis cast aside by thee.
But if the chain they bring thee ever,
Heavier, more fraught with weal or woe,
I'd then, Lisette, reproach thee never
If thou shouldst greater scruples show.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The Burdensome Life
To attend my ailing parents
And conduct their funerals
To support my weak wife
And, perhaps, see off her
And to be at others’ mercy
And wait to face the death
At a time when I grew weak
Are the greatest burden
Heavier than the life led.
I wish I was not born.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The great thing about a computer notebook is that no matter how much you stuff into it, it doesn't get bigger or heavier.
quote by Bill Gates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Living Isnt Really Giving
Author unknown (sung by dewey bunnell)
Found on heard.
Oh, I wish that I could find the reason why
Living isnt really giving
Oh, I wish that I could find the reason why
Living isnt really giving
But I dont care how long it takes
For the days to get nice
cause me and my friends, you know were ready
And willing to pay the price
Oh, la la la ....
Way deep down inside
I know Im on a free ride
But when the green light turns to red
Who is living, who is dead
Theyve taken out the river
And theyve put in a cement road
Its made the going a whole lot lighter
But made a much heavier load
I dont know how long I can go on like this
Dont know how long I can go on like this
Dont know how long I can go on like this
I see the light switch on the wall
With no legs Im still tall
We might not make it at all
I can see the river and the little place where I would swim
Where did it all begin
I wish I knew
Oh, I wish that I could find the reason why
Living isnt really giving
Isnt really giving
Isnt really giving
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain.
Robert Jordan in The Great Hunt (The Wheel of Time, Book 2)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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