Category Archives: Lyric

Threat of the New…

*

The man who has plotted the course of science

will have discovered in its development

the key which unlocks the doors to knowledge and understanding.

Both portals have fictitious hinges and hypothetical handles.

By stepping beyond their frame our senses become subtle.

The eye reacts to ‘the new’ by immediately reproducing ‘the familiar’ as if in counter-point…

In this way can that which is ‘alien’ move secretly amongst us.

…The novel sound initially causes so much pain to the ear

that we even seek to model a foreign tongue

on our own meanings…

“Wie spate ist es?”

for

“What is the time?”

As if time were a mere matter of counting.

Yet, how many hours have come and gone

since the ‘beginning’ of time?

Precisely none!

…To be involved in exceptional experiences, therefore,

is to become, in part, their inventor.

In this our art knows no bounds.

Game of Bones…

*

With what gusto the horizons of our world expand.

Our enthusiasm grasps at each new enigma like a child its toy.

Perhaps one day the most solemn problems of the past

will appear as mere playthings to us…

The plight of the poor.

Souless wealth.

Our treatment of animal species.

Man’s inhumanity to man.

Perhaps ‘Old Man’ will then look for new problems to amuse himself.

Distance…

 

*

If we want a yardstick,

for how far we have travelled from our Gods…

We need only consider the once widespread custom

of sacrificing a first-born child…

It hardly seems credible from this vantage,

irrespective of its counter productivity in an era of high infant-mortality.

What can these religions have been thinking?

That God was greater than mankind?

Heaven forbid!

A Simple Soul?…

*

Bright.

Free.

Easy…

*

Or superficial?

Blissful in ignorance rather than poised,

tight-rope like, upon the very lip of uncertainty…

*

We have no words for it,

this ‘traffic jam’ of artifice

which we seem content to pursue.

*

Our infinite regress of virtuosity

is no more than a virtual virus.

*

Our end?

Yet another blind-bumper away from the real.

Singular Mind…

*

Few are born to ascent.

Those few that are may lack the strength of character to attempt it.

Without recklessness it is almost inconceivable.

Our Minstrel, hazards the mountain path alone,

and asks none for advice, for who could tell him even of its existence?

If he falters, his limbs rot where they fall.

Torn from his torso by that pitiless Cave Bear who crouches,

ravenous, in the depths of our consciousness.

Amnesia…

*

A nameless shadow flits across the face of Science.

The Theory of Evolution has not been proven.

The ‘missing links’ for each species have not come forth from the fossil record.

The constituent parts of our DNA have proven far older than the Earth itself.

They can only have come from deep, deep-space.

Yet, in one sense, we have always been here.

Each catastrophic cataclysm endured has been but a pruning.

A clarion call to new growth.

The ushering in of the previously overlooked.

Those ekers out of existence.

The unassuming, unsung, survivors.

But if our very make-up forestalls the evolutionary leap, then who, or what, makes it?

We must turn to Memory for our answer.

We all know how she works.

She, too, is a gardener.

She cuts, and she prunes, and she grafts.

She contracts, or shrinks, both time and space.

And has a mind only for the outstanding.

The memorable is, precisely, in this sense, a cut above.

And where there are gaps in the narrative of her mind?

She fills them in…

She creates… new species.

This is how ‘our’ planet…

Forgets.