I hope no one will mind if I re-post this action poem here. I will delete this post if it is a problem. The only reason I re-post it here is because I cannot find it on litkicks. I found it saved to one of my hard drives.The Post-Man
The post-man makes mountains of self;
a being of idolatry
edified by the id
The post-man is tired of both ballot and bazooka;
a being of poles, post-politics, triumphant,
gallant in his callousness
The post-man is a messenger in a maze;
a being who covets answers,
a silenced cacophany in coccoon
The post-man is post-history and has begun to forget;
A being emancipated from the past, dislocated and homeless, a god who is godless
The post-man stutters Fu-Fu-Fukuyama and shivers in dread;
A being belonging only to becoming
a purer idea
The post-man is the sandman;
A being who has been dreamed
for a million years
The post-man is the ghost-town;
A being of the old country blues
withered desolate clear canvas taboos
The post-man engineers transgressions on the periphery;
A being trapped on the outskirts
of identity
The post-man can't be seen among the insects;
A being who despises the yawns in the cosmos
Only subtle eyes will see text in his silence
The post-man immolates reason and enlightenment emancipation and the future;
A being perpetually laying waste to his seed in forever suicide
The post-man perpetuates still in the the unfolding
A being adept with all corners of the rubix truth
Post-man holds piety to the promise of eventual declension
The post-man goes by names of elements
A being between all things, an intermediary of experience,
The post-man has no shape
The post-man was promised death in the fall but continues the revolution of flesh failing form
A being who stands against angel masters
long since saints and corpses
The post-man is the big bang of simulation
Simulating godhood in the constant creation of life in the swirl
A being ascending to beyond-home and time, a fundamental heaven of elements
breathing designs of the nebula
and blowing breath forever
finding the formless diffusion
of Parmenidian sleep
outside of the sphere
and the coffin box
consciousness
of this brief disease.
Posted to board: Action Poetry
by junior fits on Apr 22, 2004 7:28 AM
The poem led me to search for Parmendian Sleep and I found this quote:
The Parmendian Prayer by Friedrick Nietzsche
"Merely a Certainty grant me, ye Gods, is the Prayer of Parmenides, and let there be over the sea of ignorance one small plank, just wide enough to lie on! Everything that becomes, that is voluptuous, damask, blossoming, deceiving, alluring and seductive, all that is full of life, all this you can have; only give me just one single, poor, empty certainty!"The Analogy of Being
