Gaia

Eros…… what is it ?? my goddess…. The goddess with the earthenware locks
I smell chestnuts… and their ephemeral brown colour… .silky brown locks… as the silk worms weave….. your locks weave themselves into
My soul… my spirit…
The sweet hazel eyes……. That guide me into your inner being….. that convey
A mystery of life…. Only your eyes are able to unlock Pandora’s scented box…
And suspend my suffering, my pain,
My existential angst…
Oh, oh… the Sweet… sweet …Nightingale. … who evokes the sweet… sweet… Lillies of the valley…the peonies… and the manna ash trees…
To love you…
wholly…
completely…
Without reservations… to unravel the mysteries of
Time…
Space…
Ontology…
…
space…
Space… I wish to be in your sweet..
Ash brown… chestnut … chestnut space…
The space you inhabit makes me whole…
One…the Tao… that I need… that I solicit…

How do I break the silence…??? How do I weave through this chestnut labyrinth…
The earthenware maze weighs on me… on us…

It is everything about you that magnetises me to you:
Sea
Lakes
Sky…
Mountains
All hold a mystery…
Eyes that pierce my soul…
Your valleys…. That plunge me in a whirlwind of melodic flower beds…
O your waters so sweet.., the pinkish-reddish hue… so perfect… so goddess-like
Cliffs… chestnut-brown rocks… they make me shiver..
Peaks…delicate but strong…
Meadows… I have not witnessd as sweet as yours… that make me long to embrace them… to caress them…
Your scents…. So hold me.. so entice me… so envelop me…..
And the inner chambers which speak intangible axioms…
Time… reason…. How can I continue… without you… ???
Time… how do i measure your essence??? Existence???
How do I manage time… how will time manage us… how will time treat us…?? …


How does time permit me to break this burden of silence????

Black… more black… black weighs its arms upon us… the abyss of time and space…
A distant time… space… a time that will destroy us both… before we can revel in the warmth of our bodies… black release me… release us…. Before we drown in the depths
Of the winter… seasons that will destroy us… love that will destroy us… the truth…
Love is suicide… love is suicide… love will drown us… love will entomb us…. This love will only be tragic…. Silence must remain… the silence must free us… Silence must
Bury us…. Silence… one truism… one axiom… love can only enslave us….
We must engage in something good.. we must free ourselves… we must engage the world…in a revolution…. We must revolt… falluja, rawalpindi, darfur kandahar….
We must rebel… and engage in a world praxis…is it love…??? We are only ephemeral spirits in a material world… how can we engage the world in a revolution…????
The ice holds us… it calls out to us… but no one beckons its toll…it is alive
Alive… alas Alive…
It has a message…. Yet it is clouded in arcane arcane…(Dante’s second sphere- his phantasmic realm -awaits us… Minos I solicit truths…)
“Arcanum…” is his response, Mortals do not understand…..
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We are immersed in a new world Order… China, the EU, India, the –Stans… a multicultural
Order… multi-power
Order
How does this Order affect our atomistic lives…???
I would like answers form the barbaric yawps of this
Order…
An order which has engulfed us…
I need you to liberate me form this order…. Gaia… O Terra….!!!
Offer me chaos…
Destruction… the Dionysian rhapsody….
Babel…
Babylon… Falluja… Karbala… Kisumu… Naivasha.. Rawalpindi… Dakota…
Oh, my sweet chariot… can you help me transcend this Order….
I no longer have bullets… ammunition… ICBMs to change… challenge… this World Order
Oh,my Chestnut Sweet Chariot…. Can you solicit the Gods… Goddesses- oh, how I have
Foundered… fragmented… fractioned… my self…- oh how I need a
Fragrance to usurp my soul..spirit…
The Rift Valley implores… craves the burden of the light.. beseeches my fragmented self..
Oh, how I wish I had a modicum of truth… the Cartesian rift – between body and mind-only enlarges the gulf among McWorld and Jihad…
Sartre… Camus… Merleau-Ponty … Marx…Where is my revolutionary praxis….???
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All of you… all of you… have
Only offered Cold… Dry flowers
Flowers… flowers… scents… blues… for the damned…
NOT the sweet …
YET
It iis the SWEET Uranium that you have all bequeathed
Isotopes 232… 282 are for the saved… THE CHOSEN ONES …

The disenfranchised….
Ophelia affirms , “There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance..” but did she also assume an antic disposition…???
A new pedagogy is required for the oppressed and… the oppressors…
If I only had a pen… a few scraps of paper… I would compose the verse.. the prose
For this new revolutionary pedagogy… A Pax Americana… is solicited by Dante’s Spheres

Gaia… Terra..
The Rift Valley waits us… the soil absorbs red… the ink is ready
I begin to mark the spheres of this inferno…
I have no need of Virgil… the red stained scroll is my mentor… and I await
The Nightingale’s sweet melody
In order to summons us…

Body… flesh… carnal desires engulf us…
All dissolves… all fragments… all…- hazel eyes… chesttnut locks… even the
Dionysian Rhapsody will fade…-
There are no axioms… no dialectical method…
Only…
Prometheus and his boulder…
Bonne chance mon ami…
The triumph of life awaits us all… -I believe Beckett’s omnipresent Godot is dispossessed….
Hazel chestnuts release their red amber .glow…. sweet inferno… as you jig…jig… jig..
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The Dionysian rapture beneath the merkin ball awaits us… jig… jig…jig.. and more jig..jig… jig… jig baby… -(my) carnal ball- jig…
I can only observe you and
Your wonderful gyrations…
as i am entranced by your entire body… I wish I could be with you… and articulate the intangibles…. the unutterables… jig… jig baby… jig baby… until dawn… jig… dance… my nymph… dance Nymph… lead us into the other realm… where light awaits us… dance nymph…
Continue… continue… your spirit of rapture… let us meet in the next realm….