Willow tree energy and 2 More Doom Sonnets! May 29, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Capital Region Notions, Civilization Anonymous, doom sonnets.Tags: Albany New York, doom sonnets, Iron Pentacle, poetry, Riverfront Park Albany, willow apprenticeship
add a comment
On my lunch hour today, I went across the bridge over 787 and skittered over to my willow-tree teacher. Again, the lessons are very subtle, but I am so glad I ventured out to Riverfront Park. I really needed what she had to offer.
The energy of summer unfolded as I traversed the bridge. Verano’s verdant sentinels, the trees of Rensselaer presented themselves across the river as I strode above the freeway, and I really started to get excited.
(This reminds me, that my Iron Pentacle work today was especially crisp. I’m only realizing it now–I loved derferred understanding!)
Well, I stood under her branches and breathed up to my Godself there. I would normally sit on the ground–a tad too moist for that right now. Then I put my third eye to the bark of Ms. Willow, and I could only take in a little bit of her fecund energy. Gosh! I got a little bit dizzy.
Anyway, two more doom sonnets. Thanks Psychegram for the encouragement!
#27
All right. vEmpre’s coffin lid caves in
about our heads. All around us apocalypse
signals wreaking havoc as mute braves end
cuntic occupations, most grand eclipse!
Necronomy’s fall breathes new life for us
my future friends, we newly volunteer poor.
We come together and form structures more porous,
welcoming, flexible—an open door
for those with big hears and free-ranging thought.
No one is stronger or smarter than all
of us fearlessly speaking honest truths wrought
from fiery Experience’ cauldron. Call
me a doomer if you must. But my soul
Sings joyous, dances toward selves more whole.
#28
“United In Name Only States?” Truer
without those three added words does our nation’s
name ring as Fortune’s quick fall to sewer
slaps ’Merkkkan know-how to perturbations
resounding. The system of vEmpirous
energy-drain crashes hard its limits.
Before long, nation-state notions cirrus
will evaporate. They’ll try their gimmicks
to keep the cracked platters a jugglin’
but whose heart remains once leaves house empty?
Will my neighbors be shocked as these bunglin’
politicos pile on, try to tempt, plea
for mercy, for yet another fleecing?
Or come to our senses, this scheme ceasing?
Grumbly Insight & two more doom sonnets May 28, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.Tags: cubicle hell, doom, sonnets, vEmpire
1 comment so far
You know, in this puritanCunt vEmpire necronomical culture, it’s a difficult thing to admit: I really don’t like work. At least the kind of work I do for the extractive dollaz I’z iz makinz. Yesterday and the day before that, I really suffered a dazing comedown after a weekend where a cast of characters and I celebrated a delightful project coming to fruition.
In 12 step work, we are counseled not to get too Hungry Angry Lonely or Tired. In fact, the abbreviation “HALT” serves as a handy shorthand for particularly problematic situations. As the day wore on yesterday, I found myself getting more H, A and T. Loneliness for the most part has not been a factor the past few years.
The thing is the past two days were crazy-busy, and I just wanted to fall off a building through a blade that would slice my head off and then get shot and crushed for good measure. I was blisteringly and painfully enraged yesterday.
Well, anyway. I don’t really have a lot to say right now, other than it’s time for me to prepare for a convalescence. Next week, I take a much-needed vacation, starting on the 4th! Yippers for mih, yahhzz.
Two more doom sonnets
#24
“Let it begin with me.” Five simple words
that get lost in all the fingerpoint SPRAAAAWWWKS
desperately spinning distractions toward hordes
of people who have agency and talk
the talk, but . . .walk their lingo? Yeah? Really?
Though it might feel tsunamic to waken
to the present day collapse which freely
starts asserting itself–bailouts quicken
the FIRE economy fallapart, cheap
energy vacates earth each passing steam
of exhaust released from cars in slow creep
mid-rush-hour, seas rise, deserts croach and deep
shit starts sticking up the gears–glad truth hides
open: Small acts point us to ride with tides.
#25
Another oft-dispensed question over
glossed sometimes asks: “How important is it?”
The utility this tool can cover?
Cuts past the dross, focus thinkers’ visit
on the fabric of some intended path
the play of circumstance, best active course
to chart based on a spiritual math
arrived at disregarding the wars
for and against various selections.
The question asked acts as laser divine
and miracle! chain of events ensues
which often results in choices true, fine.
Clarity’s established. We refuse
both the trivial and mollycoddled.
Though naive observers b’lieve we dawdled.
Too busy to blog today May 27, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.add a comment
and I’m all grumbly about it…
Four more doom sonnets and a Prop H8 poem May 26, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.add a comment
#20
Ambivalence attends me: my dosage
of bipolar meds that “take the edge off.”
The true unspoken question, this gross age—
Should we not begin to value the soft
heart and its delicate desires over
profiting from mechanics-based suff’ring,
byproduct of choice banker to lover
accepting his jealousy sick, hovering
like an impotent fat bee with nothing
better to do than suck my life to husk?
Indeed, if I’ve no choice but mere frothing
to substance, no kindness to the brusque
zak-zak-zak of harvest CDS’s
give me anything to cease the stresses!
#21
Having kissed three hundred pound mark, returned
from that inglorious edge, an honesty
surprising has graced my once-glazed adjourned
eyes, and while feeling nature’s bliss, trusty
and fecund, I observe the fragile state
of both mental and material spheres.
Awareness came first slowly, then as fate
would have it, I came face to face with fears—
some mine, most not. This one fake, that on real.
I discover even my own nightmares
hold no substance, but grasp on, and they feel
tigered, wolfed. I face harsh eyes from inside snares
designed to hold my animal self fast.
Acceptance disperses them into the Vast.
#22
Evil white powders thus departed, brought
me forth to understand the brittle state,
this loosely defined verbiage, so shot
through with irony, this inveterate
“American way of life” held so dear,
presidents declare negotiation
off the table. Yet “American” near
and dear to hearts untold, corporations
own and leverage with each passing buy-sell.
The stasis desired, where things remain same
offers no “way” to speak of. And as swell
as Cheap Chinese Tchotchkes are, they can claim
no “life” worth living that I can see. No!
Collapse must surely come. Then! Life will grow.
#23
Cubicle farms’ demise won’t cause me pain.
Forego the pleasures of consumption?
Moi? Of course! In war where nature’s a bane
in favor of mere comfort, assumption
of human dominion so virulent
our species-wide nerve receptors’ empathy
impulses deaden and most truculent
amongst us run roughshod o’er earth (grim wrath
spewed forth at every basted turn)
count me ‘mongst those who long for civilized’s
destruction. Yea, can’t come quick enough. Burn
the fire out. Psychopaths, heart-excised
automata zomb’ly Bethlehem
bound, Yeatsian slouch foretold to bedlam.
Prop H8 Upheld?
Well the Cunts won this case, and vEmpire wraiths
dressed up as Mormon-gorgon goons pious
can dance their Ire-Deus tarantel’
called “Grimzelly-grimzel-grim.” Not like last
time, when I felt incensed, this go around.
(Though I do grieve Reason’s death, as he lay
fresh-interred next to Hospitality
in the conceptual graveyard.) Just confirms
what I heart-knew twenty odd years ago:
Benjamin Franklin’s America died.
Was corpse long before my plain conception.
To some, the Divide and Conquer franchise
still carries trademarked sway in their frozen
viewpoints, permafrost having demolished
fourth chakra connections from childhoods harsh,
brutal, unforgiving. Blood-suck-drenched fangs
brandished, these projected-evil undead
refuse integration’s light, blind themselves
to their own complete sacredness, opting
instead to point fingers and SPRAAAAAAWK curses
on those who they have deemed other. And so,
satans predictable satanize
we gays and lesbians and other queers.
They remain Mordored to transformation,
to know the Work and the Joy of Their Own Gods.
Fwah! I suppose I should care. Sexual
impotence in others hurts all of us.
But I see the signs–this last-ditch Hail Mary
for a team most discredited. And State
of California perhaps first to implode.
My alchemical focus to prepare
my vehicle for upheavals rising
and planting seeds for local resurrection,
creation of new extended family
tribal groups loosely affiliated,
blissful vision from best and brightest
future Frostwolf lays its delicious claim,
urging me to bypass these concerns stale
with eye to the nourishing of spirit.
Instead, I choose to employ this God’s will
to call to me tribe to quench our souls’ fill.
Three More Doom Sonnets with Preface May 22, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.Tags: doom sonnets, poetry, vEmpire
add a comment
Even though I’ve named these poems “Doom Sonnets,” I really see them as a mix of “Raptured, Fractured Visions of Now–Yay!” and ”Post-Doom Celebration Poems (in Advance).” OK, OK, stuff is happening. I get it. I also get that we need to keep ourselves focused on simple and small acts. To try and find the Zwischenzuegen that will have the deepest and most eloquent and far-reaching impact in our lives. It is somewhat in that spirit that I write these “Doom Sonnets.”
It’s all falling apart. HOORAY! This is good news. We’re getting our feelings and our bodies back, even though some of us (most of us?) will kick and scream and throw temper tantrums (and die) along the way.
Anyway, here are three more for collective enjoyment.
#17
A simple pleasure, sitting in sunlight
on a joyous May afternoon. A feather
shimmering, deep aqua, hidden in plain sight
under Pearl and State Street bench. This breather
of mid-day repast I might have foresworn,
or have foregone buying water bottled
(for shame, the plastic!) which on seating, fell
off the wood and into street. I’d not dawdled
retrieving it. There blue-lightness lay. Spell
of Dian-y-Glas weaving his airy touch?
The dove in the chalice, spring’s friendly god
in eternal dance with red god, ye flush
Shaitan, serpent in the earth, wielding rod
#18
I feel so alive—grudgingly. Crises
pulls my skin awake, damn it! Serious
matter? In scheme of things this surprise is
no catastrophe. Double scheduled space
causing a radical altering
of itinerary does not appraise
higher than Dow Jones’ untethering
economic from the ecologic
and subsequent calamities’ cascade
toward dreaded slippery slope/slide tragic
off a deluded pinnacle betrayed
by positive feedback loop-da-loops.
This space, thank Goddess, stands far from such swoops.
#19
’Tis true, I’m apprentice to a willow.
She stands regal near a pond, surrounded
by profuse verdance. Her branches billow
even as her roots seek waters deep grounded,
feed her thirsty tendrils mid fertile earth.
While I sit ’neath her generous fronds green—
seek to understand the ongoing birth
of Gaia, our relation as between
epochs tectonic indeed—in I breathe
delicious breeze, floral sex aromaed,
and my child-self Andú shares how wreathed
in glad connection this God is. Nomad
visions spring forth, bypassing Talker,
from when best, brightest Me shall walk here.
The Creative Process: Theater Directing May 21, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.Tags: creativity, theater directing
add a comment
I enjoy directing quite a bit, even though the week prior to opening is ALWAYS stressful. If a production is going to be worth anything, there does need to be some sort of struggle, imho. So in any case, I’m glad that tomorrow is the opening night, after which my job is pretty much done. It’s left to the actors and the crew after that. Tonight is my last hurrah and tomorrow we present the product as polished as we can make it to the public.
Theater directing has only about 5% art to it, though. I remember someone saying that it was 50% casting, 45% administration and the rest is the art of it. That sounds about right. One can get more artistic if the casting is a problem, but more likely it would become even more of an admin burden. The rehearsal process for this one has demanded a high level of flexibility that community theater groups have to have. We all have jobs, we all have lives outside the world we’re creating onstage. In casting the play, I offered a part to an actor who left for a paying gig. And good for him! I’m happy with his replacement.
I toyed with taking the part of the lead myself. I would have made a FAAAAAABulous Marguerite Gautier. I certainly have a definite sense of how the part needs to be played, and my lead does have that for the most part. He’s more understated and nuanced than I would be. I’d provide a very different spin, and as a director, I get to infuse my spin into his performance melding the energies into a delightful concoction.
It’s to be a most fun play. Hope people around the Hudson-Mohawk region can come see it.
Camille Flyer
I should have noted… May 21, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.add a comment
That I would not be posting much this week. The show opens tomorrow night. It’s a delightful piece of theater and the cast I’m working with “sells” the piece quite well. Charles Ludlam’s “Camille” is both sad and funny–a truly Feri sort of play.
They’ve been a joy to work with.
Gearing up for Tech Week! May 15, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.Tags: 440 Upstairs, Camille, Charles Ludlam, Mercury retrograde, Thalia
add a comment
Well, starting Sunday we move into the theater to do our grandiferous play, which I’ve been working on with a cast and crew since March. Planning for it since last May really, though only on the etheric plane at that point.
Funny to do a show like Charles Ludlam’s Camille during a Gemini Mercury retrograde. It SO fits. (Coupled with the fact that my lead is himself a Gemini, it’s totally hilarious to me.)
Life is really busy right now, and I’m preoccupied and exhausted. This show has been a true joy, though I have also had my worries. It will all come together. Thalia, muse of comedy, will ensure it be thus.
And, wrinkles occur. Even as I post this, there’s a snag. Guh! Gotta go.
Two new Doom Sonnets May 14, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.Tags: doom, doom sonnets, poetry, vEmpire
add a comment
#15
Truism, yes, as we grow wrinkles,
exquisite attention to green forests,
meadows, gardens and vales, as if sprinkles
fairy dust enchantments on these poorest
driest hearts, doth guide our eyes thence. Since we first
ground grain and crushed grapes, it’s ever been thus.
Locking up our food bore psychopaths’ curse—
Charge! Lead ourselves to burst out wrathful pus
from pent-up resentment, while their king laughs.
But accumulate moments we do! Grace
pushes us away from vampires’ blood drafts
into Mother Earth’s glad verdant embrace
providing us respite sorely needed
while senses gulp Her wisdom so entreated.
#16
Most times, I do abjure self-disclosure
on what I see true in these times, matters.
No publicity whore seeking ’sposure,
me! While I don’t see myself like hatters
mad with self-regard, I get it that most
people Western-acculturated tend
to look scathen on those who’d dare to post
thoughts similar to these so stated. They’d end
the dialogue. Denial’s precedence
preeminent. Mine’s voice f’wich to stick fingers
deep in ears, sing la-la-la, not make sense
of my playback of debris which lingers
on the edges of general awareness.
For those unready to embrace life’s bareness.
Had a half day! And Doom Sonnet! May 13, 2009
Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.add a comment
Well, I went on Schenectady Today this morning to talk up the play I’m directing.
Camille Flyer
Great fun had by all!
Also, here’s a new Doom Sonnet
#14
Unbeknownst to many, we stand in fortune’s
grand moment. Yes, these happy times demand
we release toxic mayhem. Opportune
this day, should we greet Gaia hat in hand
and vow to forego addictive clasping
after empty calories, fast food sex,
concrete boxes sheltering hard grasping
after debts upon debts upon bigger debts.
Yea, verily a jubilee awaits!
But only after graceful surrender
overcomes egoist, imperiled straits,
and causes us to face and care most tender
those soft and delicate parts held dear
which we mistakenly protect in fear.
