Who owns the future, when we can no longer base
the authority of our religious testaments on history
Our myths and our gods are refuted by scientific reality
We lose our absolutes and the sense
of certainty they afforded us
What do we do with words and thoughts full of this?
Old books, Collecting dust on the self
BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL
The 'good old days' are gone,
in the march past postmodernist,
from Dharma Bums of Big Sur
and the Oranges of Hieronymous Bosch
Supposing, then, that in the image
of the philosophers of the future
some trait provokes psychedelic reality
The great bridge between art and science that was supposedly built in
the 20th century hinged on “What is the imagination?”
is a different way of asking the same question
“What is the origin of consciousness?”
There is below the ordinary surface of space and time,
ruled by relativistic physics there is this strange domain of
instantaneous connectivity of all matter, of all phenomena.
It raises the possibility then that the imagination is, in fact,
a kind of, an organ of perception. Not an organ of creative, of unfoldment,
but actually an organ of perception. And what is perceived in the imagination
is that which is not local and never can be.
Who plays in the house of mirrors,
creating compositions and worldviews
out of bubble gum and dabs
Moving past the hollow culture of
inside jokes, cynicism, and detachment
This whole wasteland culture has run its course
We've grown sick of living in
a vacuum and struggling to remain detached
Scrolling your feed of memes, food porn and selfies
Trolling the echo chambers of the worst demons of our nature
We want to engage, meaningfully, in the stuff of life
In comes beauty,
the deep eternal beauty
with its infinite awe
Art is not the force that
corrupts our nature,
it is the open-minded wonder
that returns us to it.
Fear and trembling at the culture of narcissism
because we've finally grown tired
enough of ourselves to come
about something real
Once you label me
you negate me
Life is not a problem to be
solved, but a reality to be
experienced
Truth dies and its
rule is over,
Beauty dies and its
rule begins
We ache the letting go of
our postured pretentiousness
and surrender to that sensation
a kid gets at the Starry Sky
The jaws drop,
The eyes widen,
the mind opens.