Greater love has no poet

This is Constantine's artlog. He posted his poems in his own artlog forum for several years. He named the forum "Constantinople" and described it as "A byzantine journey through life's labyrinth."
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still.trucking
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Location: Oz or someplace like Kansas

Greater love has no poet

Post by still.trucking » July 18th, 2012, 11:34 am

That was a crazy thing to say, I storted to try and it explain but something stopped me, said let it be,


I was just writing about Plath's diaglogue between priest and ghost in a church graveyard when I read it and I was using another sock puppet and I thought it was a good thing to say because I wanted to say jesus h christ thank you for the poetry I need poetry bad but I don't want you to be a martyr to your art, or maybe I do. I am prettys selfish.

I am grateful for the poets who walk the edge to keep us safe in our mundane lives, protected by poems.

Thee poem scared me.
but that's my problem not yours.
I am a coward, that is why I never used the needle but maybe it is not as sexy as the needle but a fucking jelly donut is a hard drug for me. The sky is the limit here, Kerouac used booze I am using food. My second day of starvation diet, I feel a little inkling of disicipline coming on.
My brain is turning to jello to many IED's
"Natural selection, as it has operated in human history, favors not only the clever but the murderous." Barbara Ehrenreich

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constantine
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Re: Greater love has no poet

Post by constantine » July 18th, 2012, 11:54 am

i don't miss it that much. i loved the pain suppression, but when the bill came on an everyday basis, it became the struggle of my life.

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stilltrucking
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Re: Greater love has no poet

Post by stilltrucking » July 18th, 2012, 11:59 am

You are in good company this morning, I been reading you along side Billy Collins and Sylvia Plath.

I think I have read the poem at least six times, boom, boom, boom real fast in a row and every time I read it again it was a gem.

Is this a gem too

Sylvia Plath - Dialogue Between Ghost And Priest





In the rectory garden on his evening walk
Paced brisk Father Shawn. A cold day, a sodden one it was
In black November. After a sliding rain
Dew stood in chill sweat on each stalk,
Each thorn; spiring from wet earth, a blue haze
Hung caught in dark-webbed branches like a fabulous heron.

Hauled sudden from solitude,
Hair prickling on his head,
Father Shawn perceived a ghost
Shaping itself from that mist.

'How now,' Father Shawn crisply addressed the ghost
Wavering there, gauze-edged, smelling of woodsmoke,
'What manner of business are you on?
From your blue pallor, I'd say you inhabited the frozen waste
Of hell, and not the fiery part. Yet to judge by that dazzled look,
That noble mien, perhaps you've late quitted heaven?'

In voice furred with frost,
Ghost said to priest:
'Neither of those countries do I frequent:
Earth is my haunt.'

'Come, come,' Father Shawn gave an impatient shrug,
'I don't ask you to spin some ridiculous fable
Of gilded harps or gnawing fire: simply tell
After your life's end, what just epilogue
God ordained to follow up your days. Is it such trouble
To satisfy the questions of a curious old fool?'

'In life, love gnawed my skin
To this white bone;
What love did then, love does now:
Gnaws me through.'

'What love,' asked Father Shawn, 'but too great love
Of flawed earth-flesh could cause this sorry pass?
Some damned condition you are in:
Thinking never to have left the world, you grieve
As though alive, shriveling in torment thus
To atone as shade for sin that lured blind man.'

'The day of doom
Is not yest come.
Until that time
A crock of dust is my dear hom.'

'Fond phantom,' cried shocked Father Shawn,
'Can there be such stubbornness--
A soul grown feverish, clutching its dead body-tree
Like a last storm-crossed leaf? Best get you gone
To judgment in a higher court of grace.
Repent, depart, before God's trump-crack splits the sky.'

From that pale mist
Ghost swore to priest:
'There sits no higher court
Than man's red heart.

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constantine
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Re: Greater love has no poet

Post by constantine » July 18th, 2012, 12:05 pm

she was a genius - elegant and sophisticated without being ruled by it - her honest pain saw to that.

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jackofnightmares
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Re: Greater love has no poet

Post by jackofnightmares » July 18th, 2012, 12:13 pm

psychic pain
I suppose it does not matter somatic or psychic we experience it almost the same.


poetry as a blood sport
how weird is that?
"Skepticism is the chastity of the intellect" Santayana The Idea of Christ in the Gospels

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still.trucking
Posts: 1967
Joined: May 9th, 2009, 12:56 am
Location: Oz or someplace like Kansas

Re: Greater love has no poet

Post by still.trucking » July 18th, 2012, 12:35 pm

shit there I go again

honest pain

"I am not cruel only honest
the eye of a little god"

hard not for me to ramble when I think about her thirty fucking years I carried her around with me in the form of a novel I read the bell jar ten twelve fifteen times? No idea obsessed with her death, haunted by thoughts of suicide, I finally stopped about six years ago when I realized I was never going to get Menstrual cramps, read of her fatal biology, her pms was straight from her father's hell

It is her life's work that learned me not her death.

sorry about the sock puppets sometimes I can not remember a password and I think oh good if I stroke out I mght forget them all. I used to have a reason for them something about hypertext but it is all vague, hypertext trash novel the but I don't want to rip nobody off, I could not do it with out these text boxes with other people here on studio eight.
Last edited by still.trucking on July 19th, 2012, 3:03 am, edited 1 time in total.
"Natural selection, as it has operated in human history, favors not only the clever but the murderous." Barbara Ehrenreich

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still.trucking
Posts: 1967
Joined: May 9th, 2009, 12:56 am
Location: Oz or someplace like Kansas

Re: Greater love has no poet

Post by still.trucking » July 19th, 2012, 2:33 am

dang me they ought to take a rope and hang me
I mangled the poem

I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.



I knew these jewels that you pearl before my eyes are work for you, I just want to be the best reader you got.
in gratitude

RE:
Menstrual cramps
I thought that bit was funny even though I did not realize it till after I wrote it.

Maybe I am working on a Spalding Gray kind of shitck, only instead of sitting at a desk, I will be seated on the crapper.
"Natural selection, as it has operated in human history, favors not only the clever but the murderous." Barbara Ehrenreich

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