An Attic of the Mind

Elevate form over function to get at less easily articulable truths.

An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Fri Nov 20, 2015 3:26 pm

There is an attic
In the mind
Where what you were
Is kept intact--
Do not go there
Alone.
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
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Satisfied Living

Postby Aussenseite » Fri Nov 20, 2015 9:05 pm

The cricket box
With it’s broken hinge
Closed at the wrong angle
Stood silently ajar
Clothed in brass and tacks
Misshapen un-oiled hardware
When opened curiously
Through layers of dust
Disturbed by an old man
Looking for something lost
Long years with clouded vision
Is happy in the discovery
The cricket is still inside
When the lid closes
“When the logician has resolved each demonstration into a host of elementary operations, all of them correct, he will not yet be in possession of the whole reality; that indefinable something that constitutes the unity of the demonstration will still escape him completely. What good is it to admire the masons work in the edifices erected by great architects, if we cannot understand the general plan of the master? Now pure logic cannot give us this view of the whole; it is to intuition we must look for it.”
~Henri Poincaré 'Science and Method'
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Sat Nov 21, 2015 1:35 pm

The Attic

"Today I will climb to the attic and raise the blind
Where narrowed heat lies thick and stale, confined
In that closed room; and I will jar the window loose
And pitch what is no use
Among those piles of yesterday's
Right clothes, knick knacks sold on highways
Claiming I was there,
Furniture forever spare,
And, hidden in that yellow haze,
That tiny box of letters stuffed so tight
With lovely lies to fill an empty night."

So saying she ascended with a sigh,
Breathed hard and deep, and then began to try
To sift and sort vast rummages of time;
But moving up there, wordless as a mime,
She felt a present chill of missing hands,
New urgency from packed away demands,
Stares from gone eyes, a silent moan.
She was alone.
She turned and went back down the stairs with sorrow--
"Perhaps. . tomorrow."
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Sat Nov 21, 2015 1:38 pm

Poetry tag! Your turn, Aussenseite.
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Sun Nov 22, 2015 2:49 pm

The Trunk
There comes a day when youth
Is put away, when truth
Becomes some latches and a lid,
When bright and eager eyes are softly hid,
When one quick heart is to be lain
Awhile, a lock and key away from pain.

Those years misunderstood
When everyone seemed good
And love worthy--they might have died
From all demanded of essential pride
Had not we put them up, air tight, away
From yellowing of slow decay.

We look with old surprise;
We call them happy lies
Of innocence survival wants
No more. But how an opened feeling taunts
With distance where a fastened hasp
Made obsolete our freshest grasp.
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Orbie » Sun Nov 22, 2015 5:44 pm

Assented , I will be the mark
Which you so far alluded, or merely I am?

Hark! Not for want of polemic, nor of disdain for conforming
To those which have in past, seemed to go on for ever,
Ascending higher into the the consciousness of being
The attick where Dorian grey still hangs, but who'se visage now, the one before, or after, the crucified one, only a man , this man,
The plasticity of his decay, one immobilized and betwixt his posturing grimace , and admirable
Noble savage mask, ; both of which together overcame

In a rapid oscillation , so as now
The mix is real to posterity,
The atticks contain secrets in code,
Where you better decide to lock the door,
Or one fine day lead them upstairs and show,
As she really intended Venus to ascend out of the sea,
OR, just a woman , descending the stairs.
[size=50][/size]Allone's Obe issance



In answer to your prayer
sincere, the centre of
your circle here,
i stand ; and , without
taking thought,-
i know nothing. But i can

Full well your need-as
you be men
This: Re-Creation. With a
bow,
Then, your obedient

servant now.
One gift is all i find in me,
And that is faithful
memory
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Mon Nov 23, 2015 1:28 pm

Thanks, Orbie for your good response! Welcome aboard.

A Leaf Among Leaves

Entombed between the pages
Of a tome,
A touch of leaf once green
Went flat and brown;
It bled its image onto other leaves;
And time, which sheds all tales
Of pressing needs,
Still kept its secret of a distant touch.
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Autumnal Dispersion

Postby Aussenseite » Mon Nov 23, 2015 5:51 pm

Breath of season nudges colours to change
Trees bend and quiver to natures coercion
Leaves drain languidly, green to ochre then dry
Bustled by winds, that make each an orphan

The leaf dances wild vacillating on the gale
Beige with passing, his skin whisper thin
Across the tall rows of dusty corn stalks
Rustling their arms skyward to catch him

Falling slowly past the murmuring brush
Gently reminded of the commotion of élan
Missed on the treetop preeminent, observing
Touch is what makes the breadth of a man

Now resting the body on cold mother earth
Beneath bare blackened limbs, once seen grander
The insects devour, and return to the dirt
The concepts based on status and grandeur
“When the logician has resolved each demonstration into a host of elementary operations, all of them correct, he will not yet be in possession of the whole reality; that indefinable something that constitutes the unity of the demonstration will still escape him completely. What good is it to admire the masons work in the edifices erected by great architects, if we cannot understand the general plan of the master? Now pure logic cannot give us this view of the whole; it is to intuition we must look for it.”
~Henri Poincaré 'Science and Method'
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Tue Nov 24, 2015 1:46 pm

Food for a Dance

An eddy of drying leaves dancing in the wind--
I've seen this falling, Mr. Eliot,
And would say September
Is the cruelest month, preparing
Supper for Spring out of lives
That must give way
To future appetites.
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Internal Melodies

Postby Aussenseite » Mon Nov 30, 2015 6:35 pm

I sing a song of futures
Fill albums of possibilities
Vinyl filled with soul
CD’s of reflective pop mania
Cassette tapes of stories
The jukebox in my head
Hums constant and loud
Swaying imperceiveably
Shades of blues and gold
Echo off my ear canals
Never escaping their fate
A chorus of hope and promise
Just about drowns out the past
“When the logician has resolved each demonstration into a host of elementary operations, all of them correct, he will not yet be in possession of the whole reality; that indefinable something that constitutes the unity of the demonstration will still escape him completely. What good is it to admire the masons work in the edifices erected by great architects, if we cannot understand the general plan of the master? Now pure logic cannot give us this view of the whole; it is to intuition we must look for it.”
~Henri Poincaré 'Science and Method'
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Re: Internal Melodies

Postby Ierrellus » Tue Dec 01, 2015 2:02 pm

Aussenseite wrote:I sing a song of futures
Fill albums of possibilities
Vinyl filled with soul
CD’s of reflective pop mania
Cassette tapes of stories
The jukebox in my head
Hums constant and loud
Swaying imperceiveably
Shades of blues and gold
Echo off my ear canals
Never escaping their fate
A chorus of hope and promise
Just about drowns out the past

Good positive poem. I can identify with it. My mind does songs that often crowd out my negative thoughts.
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Location: state of evolving

Re: Internal Melodies

Postby Ierrellus » Tue Dec 01, 2015 2:02 pm

Paraphrase--As a Faulkner character said, "Why call it past when it has never passed?"
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Location: state of evolving

Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Wed Dec 02, 2015 3:00 pm

Rain on the tin roof sounded
Lullaby. I fell asleep
While the old victrola played
"Pharaoh's army got drownded;
O Mary, don't you weep"--
And I was no longer afraid.
Sweet sounds drowned out
My fear and doubt.

I was much older when I questioned why Mary should not weep. Should she not weep for the dead Egyptian soldiers? Or should she not weep because God saves his own? But I was a child when I heard that song. Some sounds just comfort one.
Last edited by Ierrellus on Thu Dec 03, 2015 1:57 pm, edited 3 times in total.
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Posts: 12737
Joined: Sat Jun 10, 2006 12:52 pm
Location: state of evolving

Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Wed Dec 02, 2015 3:00 pm

duplicate
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Posts: 12737
Joined: Sat Jun 10, 2006 12:52 pm
Location: state of evolving

Standing Against the Dawn

Postby Aussenseite » Wed Dec 02, 2015 7:58 pm

At night I find myself railing at the starry skies
Searching for the eyes I’ve never gazed upon
Dreaming of dancing in the bright moonlight
Cheek to cheek with nothing beneath my feet
Heartbeats, discordantly thrumming in harmony
I’ve watched a hundred million twinkling stars
Rise gallantly and fall, grow too bright and burn out
Even streaked the sky myself to end smashed aground
My sadness is covered with dissipated stardust
Of stars caught that ended fragmented meteorites
Hopelessly pulled down by my romantic notions
Each sleep it gets harder to close my eyes
I fear the evenings that the clouds hide the sky
Muffling my dreaming to less than a whisper
Or snuff out the night and my hope all together
And in the morning, the sun appears anew
I lose my lovers, fast asleep with their day
“When the logician has resolved each demonstration into a host of elementary operations, all of them correct, he will not yet be in possession of the whole reality; that indefinable something that constitutes the unity of the demonstration will still escape him completely. What good is it to admire the masons work in the edifices erected by great architects, if we cannot understand the general plan of the master? Now pure logic cannot give us this view of the whole; it is to intuition we must look for it.”
~Henri Poincaré 'Science and Method'
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Thu Dec 03, 2015 3:10 pm

Hungers

Virginia, where are you this morning?
I cannot prevent my own moving.
I dare not stop lonely for looking
In deserts of an old dream.

The sun demands that I blossom,
Fulfilling myself with petals
Until the hunger of meadows
Finds its fulfillment in me,

You say you are empty with loss?
Do you know how it is, Virginia?
You are feeling the urge to be final--
Renewing that empties us all.

The rest is an old lie still screaming
Down from a Western madness--
A lie to stop flowers from blooming
By freezing them in a glass case.

I wither with seasons, Virginia.
Stems have been stunted by drying--
But the sun never ceases demanding--
I bend to his hunger with mine.
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Hungers, the Child

Postby Aussenseite » Mon Dec 07, 2015 2:26 pm

My hunger, it sits like a child conceiving
Playing with its toys in chaos and wills
To expose all my weakness for believing
Somehow my plate always will be filled
That romance and beauty can come from within
And all around me are free to partake
Engorging themselves 'til I'm just bones and skin
And nothing is left but my lonely heartbreak
Delighted is he, who lives deep in my gut
He twists and sours, 'til I can no longer bear
Shutter the house, throw all my windows shut
Knowing all of my dreams have become a nightmare

I crawl up inside, pull my bed sheets up tight
Listening for the child who goes bump in the night
“When the logician has resolved each demonstration into a host of elementary operations, all of them correct, he will not yet be in possession of the whole reality; that indefinable something that constitutes the unity of the demonstration will still escape him completely. What good is it to admire the masons work in the edifices erected by great architects, if we cannot understand the general plan of the master? Now pure logic cannot give us this view of the whole; it is to intuition we must look for it.”
~Henri Poincaré 'Science and Method'
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Wed Dec 09, 2015 4:12 pm

Slow Time

I lose awhile the harried world's hysteria,
Seeing you so winsome in Wisteria.
If I could only mend my mind with mystery,
Could balance on the double edge of history,
I would tell the world how time may linger
Lovely on a petal or a finger.
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Wed Dec 09, 2015 4:12 pm

Aussenseite,
Your poems are brilliant/beautiful. You inspire me to keep on trying. So many contemporary poems don't do that.
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Posts: 12737
Joined: Sat Jun 10, 2006 12:52 pm
Location: state of evolving

Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Fri Dec 11, 2015 2:14 pm

Poetry is deflation of the Ego.
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ultimate Philosophy 1001 » Fri Dec 11, 2015 6:00 pm

So, the Ego is masculine? And ego freeness, is feminine?
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Aussenseite » Sat Dec 12, 2015 5:28 am

Ierrellus wrote:Aussenseite,
Your poems are brilliant/beautiful. You inspire me to keep on trying. So many contemporary poems don't do that.

Thank you, Ierrellus. I feel the same of yours. In fact, I would have never joined the forums you pointed out or made it a practice to share my writings again if you hadn't challenged me to rise to the occasion, so it is I who should thank you.
“When the logician has resolved each demonstration into a host of elementary operations, all of them correct, he will not yet be in possession of the whole reality; that indefinable something that constitutes the unity of the demonstration will still escape him completely. What good is it to admire the masons work in the edifices erected by great architects, if we cannot understand the general plan of the master? Now pure logic cannot give us this view of the whole; it is to intuition we must look for it.”
~Henri Poincaré 'Science and Method'
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ierrellus » Sat Dec 12, 2015 1:11 pm

Trixie Z wrote:So, the Ego is masculine? And ego freeness, is feminine?

I don't think masculine and feminine have anything to do with it. I read that sentence about ego somewhere. It seemed profound, having been written by a poet. It reminds me of Blake's idea of seeing through the eye, not with the eye.
So does this mean that most Eastern religions are feminine for denouncing Ego?
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ultimate Philosophy 1001 » Sat Dec 12, 2015 2:27 pm

Im just going by the facts. According to common testimony, the state of ego freeness is associated with tranqulity, clarity, feelings of compassion, and emptiness, and shame. This the same as estrogenic activity. Thus, the mist, is de-mystified.
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Re: An Attic of the Mind

Postby Ultimate Philosophy 1001 » Sat Dec 12, 2015 2:28 pm

It reminds me of Blake's idea of seeing through the eye, not with the eye.


I really don't know what that means. It seems like meaning making to me.
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