[A seminal sutra as remembered from the oral tradition of the D’aar-nym]

You must understand perfectly well the argument:
That, knowledge>wisdom>truth>beauty>music, your art, all your high culture
arises out of a process of war.

This is a truism.

Development always accords to a pyramidic structure.
You will find this stucture throughout creation;
For instance, in the vibration of energy –
by the movements of Sound, in your Air.

This is another truism.

Physical beauty always derives from a progression, a striving;
Such a process is always informed by struggle.
Your development, your evolution, isn’t really a combination
of chance elements or random factors –

It might be a feature of design.

Remove the veil of existence and it might be seen,
that this existence, this “reality”, isn’t necessarily more than a play of light –
an Entertainment, a Diversion;
a game, played by a child to pass the time.

That we, in the greater scheme, are but dolls, playthings
A Great Mother has purchased to dote upon her darling girl child

That the implements of our very destruction are but the toys of her boy child,
Working out how to distinguish this from that, in the vastness of his nursery.

But that is surely not to say, that none of this has meaning.
That the day-to-day experience of all this can be undertaken lightly.
As actors upon a stage, we take pains to hone our craft.
Because this is what we are given to do.

May I impart to you, another truism:

When energy, force, as it moves toward a higher occurrence of itself,
it is seen to be in inverse ratio to the span of the field in which it acts
(Assuming of course that the speed of the wave, the measure of the field,
remains the same).

If you happened to be the light
Your journey is always constant, true, eternal, pure.
And nothing can touch you.

This, Light, is a perfect field, and is made up of the particular.
Note Well!

A field of energy, a force, is the self-same as the individual particles possessing the property of charge brought by that force.
Matter, which is to say a concentrate of Energy, will decay in any event.
No matter; it remains. It will revert to energy, to source.
Which can neither be destroyed nor created.

(pause)

The field.

The field, composed of waves
(visualize an ocean if you like),
continually exerts its force upon its particles –
that is to say, upon the very composition of itself –
and is in turn affected by the presence and motion of those particles.

(pause)

As I said to you earlier, structures according to a pyramid
permeate our entire nature, our very being.
This is true also here.

Let us look at the *thought* behind the light:

What is thought of, as “light”, is in actuality a propagation –
Much is in movement, acting, in a sort of play.
Once this play is set into motion, it continuously re-creates itself:
Action.
Its being is but a disturbance of the field in which it plays.

When – or should I say where – our Creator
(and know this: We Are Uncreated)
Lay outside of time
He was unperturbed.
(Neither this nor that! having no attributes!)
It was ever thus.

(pause)

Energy/Force,
which I spoke of a moment ago,
resides in unending embrace alongside all of its particular components,
its material…
in a dance, oscillating, a duo in opposition feeding one another.

In this continuous oscillation, the vibration…
(You can always hear it!
AAAAA-UUUUU-MMMMM…)

The vibration which must have been the beginning of everything –
but can it ever have begun? –
Because – who turned the light on?
For instance, who lit the candle? Who made that candle?
And who made the candlemaker, and so on and so on…
It never ends!

This Vibration -
Force, acting upon Matter –
Has been seen to have the following characteristic:
The frequency of the wave, in its oscillation, as it grows higher and higher
Will grow shorter and shorter in precisely the same measure.

(pause)

SO! Bigger is not always better, you know.

A: Muse-ings



Daily Prayer

I’m gazing at Mona Lisa
(though I do not know her name yet)
Only, this is the real deal
and far more beautiful than oil paint on a canvas…

Italianate
Almond-shaped eyes
Sly – she watches me watching;
checks from time-to-time, to see about this
Casual, maybe even devious…

The desk she sits behind
(in this gig she attends out of her compassion)
Is just high enough to conceal those eyes
when she dips her head so -

She helms the phone, and lends assistance
Her chestnut-brown hair covers her left eye completely
along with that whole side of her countenance
This is devastatingly beautiful, awesome

She is the only reason I am here -
Just like that Big Sur sunset after the thumbed ride
that evening in ‘88, perfectly timed
It’s a gift from God, from the Goddess,
(from all of These Aspects of Creation)

There are Angels in our midst,
I am Convinced of this much, certain
It must be so.

My heart starts to race, just a little bit
My eyes moistening, unconcealable
This is a particularly exquisite form of torment
Religious, Awesome, Sharp/Poignant

That girl on Telegraph, one Halloweenish night
who fetched me ganja ‘cross the street, with dread
Informed me summarily, “you must pay Homage
to your Local Goddesses”

So now I scribble this blankly on lined pages

In Thanks
In Devotion
Paying Homage
In some kind of Love:

Truth,
Beauty,
‘God’

Approaching noon, here
At the Church of the Trinity
I make the Sign of the Cross
Grateful and Alive this day



SHOCK-TEE

I feel the storm coming
Maybe not tomorrow
Or the next day, even
But it’s not long in coming
She is not happy, you see
The beat is not fit for dancing

Tempo Alla Marcia
Fine, as far as it goes
But it will not tickle her fancy
It cannot move her toes
To the requisite distraction
The subtle rhythmic contraction

To balance a world on an axis
Knocked out of proper alignment
By actions of Stern Fathers
Little Boys Blue, blowing horns
Sporting cartoon prongs

Unimpressed
She lies in patient anticipation
To make Her move;
She times Her movements
She likes a Perfect Storm



Vagues Anciennes

Coming in from the cold, gradually
Drinking Mayan Chocolate
*The Food of The Gods*
A magic girl shows in my mirror, she’s
Finally come home to me

Cape Verde, Brazil, on the motel Tee-Vee
Melody & Rhythm, in abundance
Arising from shantytowns

Innocente, Beautiful, coming-of-age Girl
Swinging/Swaying, Dancing/Making
Heaven-on-earth in spite of it all

Portuguese Angel, same name as a latter-day saint
The answer to a silent prayer
Brings heaven to me
In ceremony & in waves
On wings so light you barely know her breeze

Fanning
Spanning time & showing how
We might be gods, goddesses, even
In moments, in movement

Clarifying
Like tones passing between solid consonances
Illuminating the colors
Imprismed within static mundial

In state-us,
In specific gravity
She allows this
Lightness of being, by simply ignoring
The rules, which no longer even apply to her

Illegal
Alien
Butterfly
Moonbeam

Dancing in Tides, gently under, towing…
Foaming evanescence, effervescent, over
The pull of an Axis
That Constant, Reminder

She spins and keeps me on a course
That must be true, if only because
I hear her music as if my very own

If all else fails, this one true thing remains:
My muse,
My everyday a-muse-ment
Home-from-home
Here I stay
& She remains.



Drone Strings

I am in tune with her -
and her -
In sympathetic vibration
I understand just how she feels

Infinite sadness, knowing
The warmth mainly by its absence
Yin, and no one bringing any Yang

Her dancer is nowhere to be found
I might be all your dance partners
If I were infinitely divisible that way

“All the Way”
Take me all the way down
She goes
I stay
She comes
I remain



While I Waited/Jan. 13

skinny girl

a bundle of nervous energy
nail-biting, in dread,
locked in concentration

in wry amusement, slyly typing
spider-like, wiccan
movements over keys

witchy black is her preference
in half-toned riding gloves
in balletic unconsciousness

her critical mass vibrates intensely
her uncertain rebellion’s barely mitigated
by rare spasms of dangerous passion

in time with traditional musics
to focus those jittery legs
in opaque black leggings

to contrast radically
with olive draped, fuchsia covered
physicality



* * *

B: Investigations



1) The Dialectical Imperative

[Dialectics: The art of discovering what it is
by finding out about what it - more or less precisely - isn’t]

is a very useful tool
for looking into things
or not-things
for investigations
into things like nothingness
or stuff like eternity

or concepts such as being
(or not)

2) time

look at time
or listen to it
can you try and get a feel for it

where gravity is concerned
- VERY concerned -
the weight, the density of nature
can change the nature of time

*tucks and joins along time itself*
rhythm does not tick tock/tick tock;
constantly, ever onwards, like that

we measure time like that
out of a need to cope
in the so-called here and now

there is no here
there ‘is’ definitely now
insofar as there can be anything

there is everywhere
same as there ever was
just the same as nowhere, as never
all the time

infinity reaching:
NO beginning
NO end
simply *tucks and joins along time itself*

you can look into a thing
[in to a thing]
and find out how far out it can go

time-wise:
‘in an instant’
goes so far IN,
you’re outta there

‘in an instant’
equals along eternity…

when you can divide
an instant
into parts
EVER SMALLER PARTS -
‘infinitely’

you can go outside yourself
outside the whole damn ballgame
get some perspective
you might find out about reality, ultimately

see *God*

3)
God – GOD
*I see God*

(Clapton said it on a record
by The Mothers of Invention
called We’re Only In It For the Money

this was during an era
where the motto
Clapton Is God
was graffiti’d throughout sections of Great Britain)

I hear God – only
God don’t got nothing to say
God is an Action Painter
with a marked tendency towards inactivity

lights.camera.action
can we get to where we want to go
by acting the part?
is that lacking in authenticity
or is ‘authenticity’ just a real good job of acting – ?

what happens when you cast God -
(as is done in most organized religions)
in your play, your version of reality
what do you get?
is it any more better
than George Burns with a cigar?
or is it merely a lot less amusing…

stoned sunsets at Big Sur
sounds of oceans
*In Love*, that whole rhythm
in throes of orgasm – la petite morte
birth pangs, death rattles

there’s your God
your God-dess

there is no dichotomy
between transcendence and mundanity
between heaven and hell
between dirty and clean
there is no dichotomy
it’s all-of-a-piece:

one big-assed show tune
the grand finale,
a prelude to an overture
pianissi-issimo/fortissi-issimo and all of it in between
rolled into one

there is always the One
don’t matter how complex your time -
your kala -
your tala -
your time signature
or how pissed-off your Kali gets
She’ll always come back to the One

the big, the little
the infinite, the infinitesimal
the heavy, the lite
your gravity, your anti-gravity
earth, ether…
are all separated only by time

divided by rhythm
*measured out in coffee spoons*
split apart at the seams
and joined together again

ALWAYS
@ the same time

and (quoth the raven?)
‘nevermore’



4) 58 lines

Maha-Rishi posits the connexion of
the potential and the potentiated
as *the ultimate subjectivity*,
using the language of aesthetics

Maha-Vishnu, the Supreme Personality
may be described as the complement to that,
using similar language:
*the ultimate objectivity*

:stands aloof:
and is not disengaged from his pastime
lies on the ocean, creating universes
the embodiment of all subtle causes

is *not* material;
before the expansion into
unlimited forms, into his plenary parts
*with all potencies*

before the potentiation,
the substantiation
into the myriad component parts,
his Shakti:

[we can locate her in the margins;
in between, on cusps, on the verge
ever-ready
in fugitive vision -
‘I caught a fleeting glimpse
out of the corner of my eye’]

along the subtle membrane
the horizon breaks
the wave forms
time begins where it left off,
at the end of the cycle,
at zero crossing.

in that instant: instantiation
an electrical circuit was made
and a fundamental tone
began generating a series of harmonics
and time began to move

before this, the original Person -
before he contemplated the Self,
so as to begin the whole process -
resided outside of time…

outside of time – while being, always
the sum total of time:
pradhana/subtle/undifferentiated
energy-in-sum
limitless
boundless

in perpetuo moto, inexorable
still and constant, unmoved
simultaneous

boundlessly expanding
into infinite frontiers
individuating into soul
jiva fabric vastly unfolding into waves

The Dreamer lies back down (on oceans,
in rivers, ripples receding into timelessness)
and continues dreaming

{to be cont}…



* * *

C: 6 Brief Pieces



0) six stanzas

1. gangly tomboy porcelain sister
bangs out Robert Johnson licks in dobro time, squared
terraplane-ing rhythm by dressing-for-less corners
collecting offered alms in porkpie hat routine

2. dedicated, wired, sharply-honed delicate girl
self-conscious/ever-readied, in multi-hued arrays
displays warrior adornment in critique of en masse-driving
boots blackly combat evil-doers, locks-in-all-dread

3. she studies sung heroines and cherishes unsung heroes
attends to village councils and cruxes of all timely matters
wicked/wiccan, she thrives in tribal cafes of telescoped light
and second-tiered bookstores, true witness to tried recipes

4. holder of secrets, keeper of flames
Druidic, Ancient, Mayan, Sapphic
archaically she retunes flawed design via subtle science
to mitigate quick dissonances and manufactured counterpoint

5. her armies made ready for time of Kali Yuga
the wind-it-down, ratchet up, in total mass retained
she aims to transcend, to levitate from dug ditches,
to punctuate and penetrate thru quicksanding black holes

6. she aspires to handle dark matter
slipstream through margins, and touch time once more
to melt in timeless pools reflecting truth, light and all source
amniotically she awaits, anticipating birth by supernova



1) liquidic

Vishnu, the solar, the savior, the keeper
recounted in hymns, innumerable, mani-folded
measures a cosmos in those three strides
affirming your universes as liveable worlds

Goddesses and rivers, in ritual, in streams,
clarifying: in moments, moving, inexorable
in waves and by ceremony: purifying/cleansing
by divinity: manifest, wed to oceans in cause

Sarasvati – to the Absolute
Ganga – to the Dark Dancer;
while the Wide Strider, Vishnu: bold as love
kept Jumna as the One, his very own

Mothers and mountains:
ever fertile, made ever-ready
standing: ambivalent
beatifically divided by moons
:multifaceted:

into myriad ambrosias, in Soma
by through-composed waters of life
the rain god gets a belly full, somatically
and is ultimately drunk
in ecstatic immortality



2) ontology

*time exists*
it is
“this does occur”

be in light
go into the light
constancy is everything

entropy indicates an end;
everything must end, in the end -
“in the beginning” there was…

the light

what will there be, ‘in the end’?



3) geometry

Beginnings and Endings,
solid lines -

no such thing as solid lines,
it’s all points…



4) 4 cardinal points and a center, starring

The Resplendent One
buoyed by one Jewel-Born
and one Boundless Light
and supported by an Imperturbable
and one Perfect Accomplishment

make Five Celestial Buddhas
revolving, surrounding, & thus framing
the Attainment of Enlightenment:
where Wisdom and Means do join,
in Divine Embrace



5) untitled

Like a thunderbolt, a diamond vehicle,
A lightning shot straight through the center of my eye
She enters:

Sun to my Moon
Lila within my dormant worlds
Gold-clad empress of dreams
She ensures:

That this divine play does now unfold



* * *

[©2007 jcivil, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]