Flamed Treasure

FLAMED TREASURES

By

Ducksflymoon

-x-For Marques-xYou have inspired this collection with the poetry you create in your life.

It is a mere fraction of the poème we are creating

together and I am grateful for it yet.

You have evoked an

unspeakable journey for my soul that only my poetry can convey.

-x-Thank you-x-

PART

I

GLOSSARY Acedia:

Spiritual or mental sloth; apathy

Aporia:

The expression of a doubt

Ascesis:

The practice of severe self-discipline

Chimerical:

A thing that is hoped or wished for but is in fact illusory or impossible to achieve

Cogito:

The principle establishing the existence of a being from the fact of its thinking of awareness

Compendia:

A collection of things, gathered systematically

Desuetude:

A state of disuse

Ennui:

A feeling of listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of occupation or excitement

Eschaton:

The final event in the divine plan; the end of the world

Eucharist:

Christian ceremony representing the Last Supper

Eudaemonia:

Conducive to happiness

Iconoclasm:

The action of attacking or assertively rejecting cherished beliefs and institutions or established values and practices

Imago:

An unconscious, idealized mental image of someone, that influences a person’s behaviour

Mythopoetic:

The making of myth; story-telling and poetry reading as a means of selfunderstanding

Narcissism:

Self-centredness arising from failure to distinguish the self from external objects, either in very young babies or as a feature of mental disorder

Nomenclature:

The body or system of names for things in a particular field

Philtre:

A drink supposed to excite sexual love in the drinker

Protean:

Tending or able to change easily or frequently

Qualia:

A quality or property as perceived by a person

Sempiturnal:

Eternal and unchanging; everlasting

Specular:

Of, relating to, or having the properties of a mirror

Telos:

An ultimate object or aim

Theodicy:

The vindication of divine goodness and providence in view of the existence of evil

In toto:

As a whole; in all; overall

Valhalla:

A hall in which heroes killed in battle were believed to feast with Odin for eternity (Scandinavian Mythology)

W ithout you by my side

The Sun does not exist

D ays become a terrible consequence of my broken soul

W e belong together

M ended and anew

You are both necessary

A nd sufficient

To awaken my heart

Ever and for ever

In the sacred image of T wo

…getting used to myself, Realising the gains of the Past;

APPRECIATING the present; Anticipating

the gains of

the gains of the Future.

With my heart in my hands…

ForeverBeginning,

but

-

moving

-

closer -

to

-

you………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Growing into myself

------------------------------------ is a seasonal

accomplishment Sifting the pain of the Past;

AMELIORATING the pain of the

Present; Inviting with open arms

the pain of the Future.

Love – as the movement of The Sands

Sweeping Through The Intellect’s Domain – Your Music Is My Philtre.

Beauty promises happiness

Beat the air!

Remember and sense through the canals of your mind—

All that has ever been before

A DARK TRIAD

This is my Cogito – The principle establishing my existence; The fact of my thinking and awareness.

To reflect on ultimate objects, objects of telos, within a mythopoetic world, lost in a perpetual creation and recreation of meaning.

Then the brutish arrogance of the outside world comes thundering in, step-by-step, with no regard for our fragile constitutions.

What iconoclasm would one need to shatter their narcissism?

How to silence the ‘ever-heard’ crowd?

Excavate the Archeology of my dying spirit – study the ascesis of my burdened soul.

Strive effusively toward Life with the gratitude and pleasure of an unrestrained heart.

Like The Warrior with the genuine heart Of sadness.

Man – immanent to theodicy: the arcane & painful realization of the evil within us.

In toto you are ambivalent to Providence; no sempiternal eucharist moves you; no battle of Hesiod, nor the fall of Orphic arts undoes that primal guilt – our exile from ourselves, the eschaton of lost archaism: the lack inherent in desire; our endless need for re-interpretation; The finite emptiness and openness of our memory.

An ascending dialectic of affect and phantasy – carried by the primal birth of symbolic language Thus to create meaning: To imagine mythopoetically; to become conscious and then sculpt, paint and write testimony to the ‘art of bearing hardship’ – without consolation.

There is my iconoclasm.

There is my doctrine.

Remembrance is to anticipation what archaism is to prophecy The Oneiric world of dreams lies beyond the reach of conscience Yet in the oneirism of man, we find The final destiny of the soul.

Why do all the fragments of me So betray my inner intricacies?

Stretching out into the wastelands of Eden Far away from the swamplands of soul

At a cross roads Only the blind path beckons my call A vortex of sensuous crimson design Embraces me

I choose this life for my poetry and for my prose.

I choose this life, that my spirit may suffer and grow

I choose this for as long as I choose this life

A nd no one can ever tell me that I did not live

For I live on the precipice always E very day is alive E very hour E very minute A lmost every second P asses T hrough the sobering humility O f my core

I Every cry has thy name on it Every tear is a reflection of thy face Every ounce of inner turmoil Is my physical response To our visceral separation All other objects fade from significance In my mind – wholly dedicated to thee Thou art my family now We are bound to one another By this love The most mountainous commitment I ever pledged to trek Surely it will be the source Of comfort yet unfed To represent our honesty Symbolize our lives (now) spent entwined Until our cycles come to a close & our bodies depart But our souls— Our souls will remain forever entwined I vacate mySelf when I am with thee & enter a space of mutual creation Where we forget ourselves & this world & for a moment we feel complete But the exhaustion is getting the better of me now

II Our paths were crossed by Destiny That day She drew the line of Infinity— Some say Across the palms of joy We play In the forever beginning Of Love I have climbed these mountains & swum these seas Upon and within which I have felt thy breeze Your sweet, sweet caress Has brought me to my knees Perpetually at your mercy My soul has been seized

III Severed Like an umbilical wound From my nuptial ecstasy Fled from the scene Like a babe in red Groping For the mythical union Of souls been riven Spying remedy or cure Inwardly I bled Strength I find in my inner being When past offences Resume their place— Impervious to their dread.

All there is is nothingness The only relationship possible is my relationship to my self And in my self, float the selves of every Other that there is Our separateness IS our unity Our diversity is our common factor, for we all represent The small physical fact; The infinitesimally unimportant truth That at existence

the

root

of

our

Of the existence of everything and nothing is The explosion of a Star

Where you dwell It burns

Where you play It penetrates

Deeply, where you stand Is impenetrable

Where you love Is without words

Where you move I breathe

Where you are I am

Pray deem the myth of the Garden Behold but two trees Of the same yet different natures Espy the Olive

Tree of life Sacred to the Sun Solaris the intellectual The principle of lucidity

The world of the day The mind – knowledge Liberty, will and purpose: The ferocious tension

Between reason & human fatality.

Descry thereupon the Fig Dulcet crimson

Deadly seeds— Of Desire?

Of night & the lunar gods The world of the soul

Cherishing Nurturing The unconscious.

Thus our hearts are split asunder

I have nothing for you Mallard As you sift the dirt for food.

For I am also sifting Through the dirt and disgrace of Academia.

Yet we reside here together— You in search for sustenance, I in search of serendipity.

Both of us alone.

Out from the crowd, Perhaps our comportment to all this Is somehow similar -Your ambivalent wandering… …my ambivalent wonderment.

Who are they? Who frolic with the flock So comfortably, so recurrently?

I am not of their nature.

But of my own, I can be sure – No frolicking serves my purpose Of finding meaning in meaninglessness.

I WISH I HAD 10, 000 HANDS TO CARESS THE 10,000 POINTS ON YOUR DIVINE SKIN. 10,000 WORDS TO SAY ‘I LOVE YOU’, 10, 000 MOMENTS OF COURAGE I STAND IN AWE BEFORE YOU SACRED OTHER THOU ART A REFLECTION OF THE UNNAMABLE MYSTERY SHARING THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY HAS INVITED US TO GROW DO YOU FEAR THE SAME FEARS AS I? OR DO OTHER DEMONS HAUNT YOUR SHOW? FLOW WITH ME INTO THE COSMOS FLOAT A WHILE BESIDE ME

Working towards myself I dream and live in phantasy That I may somehow divert Or control my cosmic drama I am yet confused As to the meaning & wherefrom it shall spring Does it exist without?

Or is it a prerogative of within?

Some days hardly seem substantial With only the memory of a touch To remind you that your Beloved is alive.

The memory itself lives in an eternal ether Of‌unmentionable greatness.

Should you forget this, your soul suffers.

Like a brutal shower of opium petals Resonating deep, deep, deeper below the surface Body, remember the He that is All. That eternal grace, upon whose wings Desirous contradiction doth fly Anchored between wisdom and ignorance Fatally indifferent to the perfect love My heart lusts after solitude only Where tears roll into a forever becoming

As if sweet intoxicating nectar cascaded soulwards Gently transforming my turbulent roots.

Nourishing the emptiness with void.

I would steal the thunder from the Gods To feel bliss like that again

Is my desire my own?

Or is it another’s insignia?

Do I find it in the gap?

Opened by an imago?

Desire goes beyond demand Demand prunes it of need Desire is excavated shy of The unconditional demand Of presence And absence Demand evokes the want-to-be In the three figures of nothing Demand for love Negates the Other’s being The unspeakableness Of what is not known in request Aporia incarnate Demand borrows its heavy soul From the offshoots Of the wounded tendency Its subtle body from death Desire asserts itself as absolute To this object That cannot be grasped To the mirror A specular image lends its clothes Caught in the net of shadow Its shadow-swelling volume—stolen The tired lure of the shadow As substance

It is with opacity

That we gleam upon ourselves

Knowing something Yet at the same time -- not knowing

This paradox That is at once irrational AND formulaic

Becomes the veil occluding Our search for truth

Thoughts EXPLODE... try to catch them,

It’s GENIUS – the way our brains work...

My consciousness of mySelf.

This feeling of terrifying agency Of my supposedly 'free' will What design I do not know Only delivery can reap what this mind sows

These words are not my own -i must admit They belong to an archaic land of scarcely discernible vagueness Fantastically beautiful!

Faithfully preserved in obscurity Of feeble-minds, absurb and Positively crazy! ‘Transform every moment into poetry with pain, tears, anxiety, astonishment, delight!’ Dream of higher certainties!

Elegant deductions need go no further.

What nomenclature of the unconscious -Partly achieved, partly abandoned What wish to sleep Can find the Jewel -of flamed treasure Beneath the hearth

-of the cults of Antiquity?

Those citadels of femininity What vulgar or poetic joke Enfeebles me?

Inwardly restrained knowing without effect?

Am I but the epitome of compendia?

Or -- immoderation of critical effusion?

Nay! -- I am the Socratic malady (approaching insanity) How many minds -- systematically perverted Through toil in the factories of 'common utility' in the reflexivity of mental distanciation Inborn grayheadedness, if you will.

Would not Narcolepsy Better suit such 'teachers of purpose'?

Ponder this Fair man -- !Gone is the old psychology,! the old morality!!!

See not through the eyes of God !but Live for the eyes of your Beloved!

Where no goal remains!!

But sacred unity! the only grail worth living!: Unity of love -- the nectar of life

Oh sweet Mystery; allow me never to discover You.!

Let the wonder of You speak only through true poetry.!!

Reveal Yourself solely through the paints of our lives !As creators of ‘this-worldliness’-- the worshippers of Life!!!

Work exclusively in the qualia that inspires 'being'!

And wait not for the opportunistic ones,!!

But become the subject of prolongued immersion!

For those with pure vision and formidable hopes.!!

Commence my innocence in Angelic form!

That my Angel may promote eternal beginning-ness

The mild narcosis That is the qualia Of satisfaction through Enjoyment of art A source of pleasure & consolation In life.

Frees us Temporarily From the hardships Too sublime To make us forget Freud's misery!

This path to happiness In the spirit of desperate rebellion Triumphs not over reality Madmen will find no souls To help realize their delusions Paranoid wishful thinking Corrects the unendurable aspects.

The art of living Seeks independence from Fate Libidinally displaced mentality Psychological hedonism (Love is at the centre) Passionate striving The quest for happiness Beauty Attractiveness Substitutive satisfactions Neurosis Frustration Chronic intoxication Rebellion Psychosis Love Religion Infantilism

What was formerly known only unto the Olympian Gods --has now been shown to me The Lowly Poet My palaces of divine creation sit atop the Clouds on heavenly rods Made of alchemists Gold though ‘they’ know it not Who was the friendly Archer who struck with his Bowe?

Piercing twice these hearts that flow and flow Eternally into one another Like Song and Singer As if destiny t’wer made solely for winners How must it be that two paths cross When each was made For the others' loss Or that one's music seemed almost written --to become two's favourite musician And how uncanny to meet The lyricist of one's own heart To be able to wander freely In the cities and parks In letters, in dreams, in soul with the one you love?

T his is my poetry I am the green in all the leaves sprouting from trees M y roots, submerged in the earth A ll the world’s ocean, falling in rain every day It is the sky in permanent motion P rotean clouds I am everything and nothing: D ark and L ight T he tension of polarities & the quest for unity.

M y words are but molecular reflections O f a great C haos of meaning; A remembering, R e-membering.

M uscle memory for body E udaemonia for the mind.

Setting sail on the high seas of the soul E ast of my E denic cage.

It's as if I was unravelled Wrestling in the uncertainty Of opposites

The tension brought much Suffering and pain But from it I grew

Neurotic complex Or authentic soulessness I may never know

I asked the darkness What Angel has befallen me?

Then I was revealed to myself

Deeper understanding Reality enlarged The lived transforming the banal

Questions that penetrate My entire being Dreams to search the answers

My myth is mine alone what is demanded Awaits me, opus, apotheosis

Thus I come my Beloved & in all abasement

Beseech you – put to your hand The imposition – a curb To those flatterers Who are the enemies of our love.

For our Blessedness is driven & tossed by the waves So that the depths of the sea Press on us with infinite perils.

The living fountain Springing up into Eternal life & love by its natureDutiful and obedient to its object.

PART

II

Loosen off your grip Dis-enchanted New York!

You steal them away You conceal and Reveal in the dark twisted rays: moonlit insanities Profanities of soul Circumnavigate poles Of ego’s despair Not caring a piece The price to be paid In myths of old.

Release of your hold Disillusioned New York!

You fool and you fray You steal them away Those beautiful creatures of night Who tragedy plays Theatre as life Life qua theatrics Performers are dazed By those bright lights Of yours friend So lurid; so gay Come hither You say Like moths to flame They come So many we have lost So many we will lose To the labyrinthe Of your mind Sour tasting New York Save me just one Your majesty New York Just one for this poet Save me this one & I will love you this once Fair dweller of fates Keeper of dreams Stewardess of the flooded gates Womb of New York You will find him there As all poets do Skirting the brims of the stars

Like searching for a forgotten tomorrow In the lacunae of today And yesterday What might Have been lost Was all illusion Anyway And why not Illusion now?

Is love not Illusion par excellence?

Sleepless nights As petals of shadow Peel their way From off thy breast Upon the foolishness Of one heart The great beast Of prey in the nocturne Consumes love’s nest: Penetrating castles Of inner sanctuary There is no defense No strength Or mentation Can soften The blow Of hundreds Of villains Propagating Their spawn In the vortex of Ambivalent Disintegration Befalling Eros’ kingdom Yet no defence nor disintegration Need be necessary Where the barricades Are already fallen

Trying to hold on To Monotonous Disintegration

As if punished

By Nemesis For my hubris

Am I? ‘Le sujet suppose savoir’

These fragments --my liminal poesy

The un-mentalised Flows into Affective black holes

‘Sunyata’ – the pregnant void The hollow of my pregnant womb

I love you as my own Not as you are As my own

You are in flux As you are

Flux is your being But there is constancy yet:

--constancy of your self-continuity

-- constancy of your self-negation!

Yet you are lost to me Forever

To love you as you are

Would imply some prior knowledge The ‘truth’

Of your existence Such truths

Do not exist In my mind

Or your own Yet we occupy this space Of mutual authorship The meaning we carry

Transcends the laws of intersubjectivity Only in dreams

May we know – and not know Of the blind sight And the seeing eye

I write You call We fight And we fall Time flies Space crawls My sight Your wall Dark nights Of winter; fall New bright lights On shiny malls In pretty tights No room for balls; Balloons and kites In shadows halls We expedite Beauty’s brawls And bite The lips of lover’s all The hand of sleight Becomes a scrawl Tangled kites Like fish in trawl Do we cite Before we stall?

Or will the fright Forestall us all?

Alright, not quite We’re not all so tall!

What could I say to thee Not already known

My love bespeaks a soul that’s free What once was sorely torn

Distance, distance, distance parts Hearts adrift; asunder

In dreams I ride the thunder

Where lightening lands a plunder Upon my trove of what I have For you, my love, to give

Life returns the way decrees: All I have to live The image of you

Aerates my womb Chrysalis state Latent wounds Yet to dance

This metamorphosis Fires caress my nascent doom Where violins sing Sad songs to

Love’s cocoon

Oh fair desuetude Why do you creep At the door to my soul?

I am not what happened to me I am What I chose to become The necessary collision occurred My cobbled reaction to the vagaries of the first cocoon And my natural self – wishing to be expressed I am yet dispirited Traversing ‘This’ wasteland Oh blessed acedia Refusing to acquiesce in my own being You make my soul arid There is no ennui here!

My uniqueness is my joy My joy is my sorrow I am a prisoner Of constantly escalating Obligation and expectation?

Who misses those Vast colonnades of moments Whose corners spoke to antiquity?

In this Collusion with soullessness The task of consciousness vibrates Annihilation Turns to dignity At my soul’s ingress to Valhalla The tragic sensibility That is opposed to pathos Like Sisyphus Who chose to struggle Uphill even though he was bound Forever to see the boulder drop

Minds discrete and distant to my own Alas! But that we are always alone With our thoughts and spores Wounded befores Blocs of becoming Sees what, sees whom?

What of risk – If not the brisk farewell of love Then the listlessness of a Chimerical togetherness Or neither yet Bear well, this soul that fell

Speak not of whence it came or Thither it flew For it is one and the same Paradox will shew The forever ambivalence Of all ‘tis true!

Forgive me my beauty For it hides sorer eyes Forgive me my seductions They speak not of my love for you They deny and deceive Like leaves on a tree That is dead For I am dead In parts Without you here Forgive me my hypocrisy It is my shame alone My guilt My bad conscience My reparations My reality Is split into These excessively good Excessively terrible Objects of my devotion Forgive me my emotions They overwhelm too easily Forgive me my Temporary weakness These vaguely discernible Betrayals Forgive me for I have slain All that remains In bits, disrepaired Forgive me – I am scared Darling I am scared Of the darkness at times Hold me and forgive me My love

Upon this bed of sweet beatitude -- sits the lonely man

Softest pinks & lovers’ rose -- beneath his lonely hands

‘Greenesse’ flows below -- the breath of earthe’s fire tan

These spring-fall days --Beseech the core of this fair bland

Inwardly felt joy -- & rebirth in times that can

Befall and forestall --poets in the shadows of quicksand

PART

III

Release me from this wounded vision Into ‘Cirrus’ clouds of superstition

For that it all it is This sorrow & woe

False belief In things unknown

Merely hinted at Like the wind when blown

Between those clouds & this trying place called home

Woe betide the setting sun She has risen and fallen in the eyes of some

And in my bitter loneliness weep Sad songs of distance, n’er to sleep