THE ‘SHUNS’

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The day started with my morning ablutions,

and then ‘moved’ to my regular constitutions,

which were followed by my daily resolutions,

to exercise and read more; such ingenuations!

 

I filled the coffee pot; to ensure percolations,

took all my vitamins and other medications,

selected an oatmeal; substance of variations,

“Raisin & Brown Sugar’; box top acclamations.

 

Donned my coat for my customary ambulations,

took an umbrella (due to weather considerations),

dodged a truck, a bike and other machinations,

saw a politician, a lawyer; are they variations?

 

Sat on a bench formed of wooden fragmentations,

watched the folks forming voluntary segregations,

here, the people in the midst of chess enthusiations,

there, folks enthralled with soap box exclamations.

 

Nearing noon, my stomach sounded such vibrations,

I knew it was time for lunch and potent potations,

a Manhattan I was craving (or any liquid libations),

and a friendly bar-keep offering jovial salutations.

 

The alcohol dulled my mind in major moderations,

‘Which way home?’; my immediate considerations,

‘No need to panic.’ said I between heart palpitations,

‘I’ll hail a taxi!’ were my thoughts and aspirations.

 

Arriving home I turned to TV with great expectations,

however, it was entirely political candidate falsifications,

no new ideas; my presentiments were all fulminations,

I knew we had no real choice; accept our destinations.

 

So I stayed home, not voting, nurturing my inclinations,

talking TV heads offering their brilliant miscalculations,

no a human could have foretold the resultant causations,

a winning write in vote; – – – “Eddie and the Temptations’

 

A DEVINE TRAGEDY: 23. THE GREAT LEAP

Why did we abandon the concept of apprenticeship?

waldotomosky

Limbo: by Jan Mandijn

“Brothers and Sisters in learning, serve your masters well, for they freely yield their lives and secrets to you. This for nothing more than their wish to become eternal.”

Thus spoke Fred

 

Three years with three masters and a fourth year with many masters.

That is what Fred pledged himself to. And so he made the leap,

towards eternal creativity and the chasm was very wide.

His fingers grasped the palisade on the other side,

where he hung in pain for forty-eight moons.

Yea, oh yea, there were periods of joy,

and periods of discouragement.

Disciples, there were none;

although false ones,

appeared at times.

 

Creations of iron were the goals set for him by the masters.

Competency in enumeration and calculation was required.

Recognition and scribing of straightness, angularity and

curvature were abilities required. For these skills,

were the means of communications,

with…

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HOPE

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Little Miss Hope,

aren’t you just an adorable little thing?

You sit there in the bottom of Pandora’s box,

waiting for one of us to pick you up,

admire you, and give you a big hug,

possibly a little peck on the cheek also.

 

 

Yes, I have to admit it, you are promise,

but is it real or just a false promise?

Surely, at times, you give us courage,

often laced with confidence and optimism,

even anticipation of your possibilities.

 

So why did the Greeks close the lid,

no, – – – they slammed the lid – – – shut! – – – ;

on Pandora’s box, or rather she did,

so said Hesiod, when he spoke of her,

and the gift that the Gods had given her.

 

And there it sits, that despicable box,

completely empty, except for you Miss Hope.

You have little playmates with you,

don’t you Little Miss Hope? Like desire,

and potential, and good prospects.

 

Are they real or are they transparent,

like dream, want,  wish, and yearning?

But you didn’t answer me Little Miss Hope,

why did Hesiod have Pandora imprison you?

Oh, come now, you know, don’t be shy.

 

Yes, that is correct, you are the only evil,

that has remained in the box, oh yes you are,

you are evil, you certainly are.

You cloud men’s minds, especially when,

you are with your companion, Change.

 

What a cute couple you make,

Little Miss Hope and Lord Change,

Once again you have fooled us Miss Hope.

Do you and Lord Change have progeny?

Are there little Hopes and Changes,

in this bright future of ours?

 

Or have you worn out your welcome?

Are we now wise to you Miss Hope?

Have we opened our eyes to you?

You saw all the evils that escaped,

when Pandora lifted the lid,

are you Little Miss Evil in disguise?

Are you a counterfeit emotion?

 

Yes, I believe you are, Miss Hope.

I think you let us believe,

only what we want to believe,

I think you let us hear,

only what we want to hear.

 

It is a good thing that the Greeks,

saw all those evils that escaped,

from Pandora’s box, before you escaped.

Otherwise, we would not have a clue.

what you do to us Little Miss Hope.

 

It is just so sad, that those Greeks,

left your name laying around,

we may never have known you exist,

Little Miss Hope; we never would know,

That there are two sides to you,

an encouraging one,

and an evil one.

 

And we thought that only the Romans,

had Gods that were two-faced.

Janus Roman God  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But you are not a goddess are you?

You are just a little wayward emotion,

running around inside of us,

fooling us, and playing with our minds.

And yet we think we love you.

 

 

 

 

FAILURE

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Fear of Failure

 

Hah!

 

So we met again, do we Sir Failure?

You show up most inconveniently.

Just when things are going good.

Is that the way you plan it?

 

You are continually interrupting my work.

And you make me look bad in other’s eyes.

However, even worse yet, in my own eyes.

It doesn’t seem to bother you Sir Failure.

I know I am not the only one you visit.

But I know something about you,

that the others may not know,

that is that you are a

charlatan.

 

Yes, I said it Sir Failure,

you are a pretender,

at times a cheat

a roll-player,

a phony,

a fraud,

a sham.

 

You ask “Why a cheat?”

because you do cheat,

you cheat those,

who are not,

wise to you,

the tricks,

you play,

on their,

minds.

 

You are the alter ego of success,

aren’t you Sir Failure?

You show up only to,

make us doubt,

doubt our self,

and then,

give up.

 

Well, I am wise to you Sir Failure,

You have saved me many times.

Oh!  You don’t wish to hear,

about this side of you,

but you must listen.

If you can make us,

doubt us, then we,

must make you,

doubt you.

 

It’s only fair Sir Failure.

You are the greatest,

teacher on earth.

You are a mentor,

among men.

 

For every time you show up,

humans learn something,

they learn to avoid you,

in like circumstances.

 

AND

 

We learn not to doubt,

ourselves because,

we have learned,

that you are,

success in

disguise.

 

How many times have you taught us,

not to do this or that again?

Yes, Sir Failure, you have.

You ride up on your,

black steed of,

self-doubt.

 

But you ride away on the white stallion,

of experience, pride and success.

Thank you Sir Failure,

for your valuable,

time and,

experience.

 

Thank you for being a blessing in disguise.

However, you wear many costumes,

and a variety of fearful masks.

You do Sir Failure, you do!

And we often do not,

recognize you,

for who you,

really are.

 

But eventually we accept your presence,

and put it in a place of indifference.

As we age you are indifferent to us.

We know who and what you are.

We have seen you before.

We put you next to,

the potted plants,

and at times,

water you,

to remind,

ourselves,

of what,

you are

— and —

are not.

 

And we thank you for that.

 

Failure copyright

 

 

 

 

 

a priori

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Well, well, well. Look who is here, I should have guessed.

Mr. “I wanna be first” ahead of everyone.

Are you always at the party before all,

or prefer the “Grand Entrance”

where you would be noticed?

 

Did you bring your friend to the party?

Don’t play dumb, you know who;

Emmanuel, your birth father.

He named you a priori,

or did you forget?

 

Your little brother didn’t fare so well, did he.

He is always playing second fiddle to you,

I think Mr. Kant loved you most.

Poor little Posteriori, lost soul,

never favored in EK’s books.

Little guy was “sensitive,”

a little too sensitive.

 

Why was Emmanuel so “critical for pure reason?”

Why did he belittle “observation by sense?”

Why did he ignore the simple fact that,

all this began before reason and sense,

even had names – – – either of them?

Who said “I take rock, it hard,”

followed up by “Tools hard,”

and “Rock make tool.”

 

Or was it more of an “I break nut with rock.”?

Or “Rock make good tool for fixing supper.”

Or was someone just hungry and ate a bug?

Or someone was tired and lay in the grass.

Did he reason “Me find nice soft bed.”

and a friend asked “What be bed?”

“Grass be bed, grass be soft,”

“grass = soft = bed = nice.”

I think not Mr. A. Priori.

 

Why did Mr. Kant fear your little brother?

Was observation and sensing wrong?

Posteriori had his eye on the facts,

the facts that could be seen, heard,

touched, facts that could be felt,

such as hot, cold, wet or dry.

And let’s not forget “fear.”

 

Fear cannot be seen, heard, or touched,

Neither can love, hate or disinterest,

Are they in your category A. Priori?

Or do they belong to little brother?

Who do these emotions belong to?

Do you sometimes share things,

with little sibling Posteriori?

Sharing things is good.

Especially when we

are not sure, who

really owns them.

 

Was Immanuel Kant your Geppetto?

Did he carve you out of an oak tree?

Did he give you any tactile arts?

No senses you say? No sight?

No hearing? No touch?

No smell? No taste?

No love? No hate?

or disinterest?

 

Oh my, Mr. A. Priori, you are so limited.

No sense of space? No sense of time?

No sense of gravity? Not any senses?

You don’t understand horizons,

beautiful sunsets, or the pain,

of others, even those close?

Can you sense storms,

by thunder and

lightening?

 

I think you should go back to implore Emmanuel,

ask him to make you human, like Pinocchio.

Tell him logic and reason are both good,

but they don’t compare to being human.

Tell him that epistemology is not equal,

to humanity, vanity, sanity, profanity;

or Judaism, Taoism or Christianity.

Tell him that five plus fifteen is not,

always twenty; someone, someday,

will disprove that fact just as we

now know that the sun – – – does

not revolve around the earth.

 

Or do we really know that?

 

 

Euclid, about 2,300 years ago, said a lot of things,

about straight lines and other logical “facts.”

and then a fellow, I believe a Mr. Einstein,

said if we could look long enough, and,

far enough, we could see the backs of,

our heads. So much for straight lines.

And so much for all hounds are dogs,

all bachelors are unmarried men,

and all is based on pure logic.

Do we really know “truth?”

Or do we continue to

simply live our lives

take the best guess

and continue on

with humanity?

 

That is my question, Mr. A. Priori.

 Fire

 

 

 

LUST

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Lust

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, there you are Miss Lust,

I missed you last night,

I went looking for you,

from bar to bar,

but no luck.

 

You fool me sometimes,

I think I want you,

when I find you,

I don’t.

 

You are a fickle young lady,

Miss Lust, very fickle,

You have powers,

greater than I.

 

And you disguise yourself,

as love, yes, you do, yes.

Even Eros has fallen,

for your beauty.

 

Is that what it is Miss Lust?

Is your beauty everything?

Or is it something else,

that clouds my mind?

 

You hold out promise,

you do, Miss Lust.

That’s it I bet,

“Promise.”

 

Why do you offer Promise?

I offered you naught,

in return for it.

Zilch, nada.

 

In fact I hate Promise,

and his son, Hope,

two imposters,

Pandora’s kin.

 

Do you masquerade as Succubus,

Miss Lust, do you, do you?

And you wish me to be,

your fallen Incubus?

 

It will be so if you would only ask,

I sacrifice my life for one night,

with you Miss Lust, just ask.

I will be prompt, I will!

 

My reasoning and prudence,

are not shields against you,

Miss Lust, oh no, never.

Only Papier-mâché.

 

I think it better to avoid looking,

at you, (or for you) Miss Lust.

Better that we never meet,

better to avoid memories.

 

Yes, – – we have good memories,

of those many aroused nights,

Miss Lust, deep imprints,

upon both our minds.

 

Why do I keep seeing them,

Miss Lust? I hope not to.

They and you should,

both disappear.

 

But you don’t, do you,

Miss Lust? Never.

So is it Love,

or Lust?

 

Oh, if we only knew,

those answers,

Miss Lust.

If only.

 

DEATH

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Why can’t you look into my eyes, Mr. Death?

Why do you hide around the corner,

and look at your feet when I pass by?

You seem to have no heart for this business.

 

Why did you enter into such a profession,

was it your fathers trade?

with your name over the door; “DEATH & SON”.

How long have you been  “ΔEÆTH & ΣØN?

Did you go to Zarathustra’s mountain,

and tempt him with your catalog of goods?

 

Did you lose faith in yourself

when the Vikings laughed at you?

As they became berserkers?

When they put their dead to sea,

allowing ravens to pick at their eyes?

 

You are an imposter, Mr. Death.

When you arrive, I will be gone,

it will be too late to shake chains,

or engage in Gregorian Chanting,

or throwing dirt in my face;

I will already be gone.

 

You are continually late Mr. Death,

you show up after my last breath,

after I have enjoyed this life to the fullest,

after I have left progeny to continue my work,

after I have smelled the Balsam trees,

and walked in the rivers and streams,

I have done it all before you arrived.

 

Not very punctual are you Mr. Death?

Always missing your appointed rounds,

trying to amend by showing up early,

never on time; who can depend on you?

Surely not I; nor anyone I hold dear.

Promptness is not in your vocabulary,

is it Mr. Death?

 

Why do you continue to hang around,

in our nightmares,

in our imaginations,

in our metaphysics,

in our constructs,

in our churches,

in our synagogues?

None of us really like you Mr. Death.

 

Are you really there Mr. Death?

None of us have ever seen you,

None of us have ever spoken to you,

None of us have ever touched you,

Are you a fabrication of our minds Mr. Death?

 

I think it is time for you to leave Mr. Death,

depart while there is still time,

leave us before we see you — for what you are not,

you had a good run at improving your lot,

if you leave now you can hold your head high,

leave while the band is still playing your song,

take your sheepskin and credentials with you,

don’t forget to put on that gold watch,

you have earned it after all the those years,

we know it was not easy to be consistently late,

or surprisingly early, for your appointed rounds.

and we thank you for your past services; if any.

 

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