Chanting The Square Deific
by Walt Whitman
as read by Lightning Rod
http://www.studioeight.tv/musicpost/LR/square.mp3
Here is one of my favorite poems
It postulates god as a four-sided entity
Jehovah, the law-giving god
Christ, the forgiving god
Satan, the resentful god, and
Santa Spirita, the breath, the all
here is the text:
1
CHANTING the square deific, out of the One advancing, out of the
sides,
Out of the old and new, out of the square entirely divine,
Solid, four-sided, (all the sides needed,) from this side Jehovah am
I,
Old Brahm I, and I Saturnius am;
Not Time affects me - I am Time, old, modern as any,
Unpersuadable, relentless, executing righteous judgments,
As the Earth, the Father, the brown old Kronos, with laws,
Aged beyond computation, yet never new, ever with those mighty laws
rolling,
Relentless I forgive no man - whoever sins dies - I will have that
man's life;
Therefore let none expect mercy-have the seasons, gravitation, the
appointed days, mercy? no more have I,
But as the seasons and gravitation, and as all the appointed days
that forgive not,
I dispense from this side judgments inexorable without the least
remorse.
2
Consolator most mild, the promis'd one advancing,
With gentle hand extended, the mightier God am I,
Foretold by prophets and poets in their most rapt prophecies and
poems,
From this side, lo! the Lord Christ gazes - lo! Hermes I - lo! mine is
Hercules' face,
All sorrow, labor, suffering, I, tallying it, absorb in myself,
Many times have I been rejected, taunted, put in prison, and
crucified, and many times shall be again,
All the world have I given up for my dear brothers' and sisters'
sake, for the soul's sake,
Wanding my way through the homes of men, rich or poor, with the kiss
of affection,
For I am affection, I am the cheer-bringing God, with hope and
all-enclosing charity,
With indulgent words as to children, with fresh and sane words, mine
only,
Young and strong I pass knowing well I am destin'd myself to an
early death;
But my charity has no death - my wisdom dies not, neither early nor
late,
And my sweet love bequeath'd here and elsewhere never dies.
3
Aloof, dissatisfied, plotting revolt,
Comrade of criminals, brother of slaves,
Crafty, despised, a drudge, ignorant,
With sudra face and worn brow, black, but in the depths of my heart,
proud as any,
Lifted now and always against whoever scorning assumes to rule me,
Morose, full of guile, full of reminiscences, brooding, with many
wiles,
(Though it was thought I was baffled, and dispel'd, and my wiles
done, but that will never be,)
Defiant, I, Satan, still live, still utter words, in new lands duly
appearing, (and old ones also,)
Permanent here from my side, warlike, equal with any, real as any,
Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words.
4
Santa Spirita, breather, life,
Beyond the light, lighter than light,
Beyond the flames of hell, joyous, leaping easily above hell,
Beyond Paradise, perfumed solely with mine own perfume,
Including all life on earth, touching, including God, including
Saviour and Satan,
Ethereal, pervading all, (for without me what were all? what were
God?)
Essence of forms, life of the real identities, permanent, positive,
(namely the unseen,)
Life of the great round world, the sun and stars, and of man, I, the
general soul,
Here the square finishing, the solid, I the most solid,
Breathe my breath also through these songs.
This Goes Out to Joel--Whitman Sermon
- Lightning Rod
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Re: This Goes Out to Joel--Whitman Sermon
Thanks, Lrod. I needed that today--and God bless Whitman for shucking the dualistic crap that passes off Satan as a paperthin concepted demigod. If God is almighty and if God is forgiving, then God can handle the "bad stuff" and will (hopefully) forgive me if I'm wrong.Lightning Rod wrote:3
Aloof, dissatisfied, plotting revolt,
Comrade of criminals, brother of slaves,
Crafty, despised, a drudge, ignorant,
With sudra face and worn brow, black, but in the depths of my heart,
proud as any,
Lifted now and always against whoever scorning assumes to rule me,
Morose, full of guile, full of reminiscences, brooding, with many
wiles,
(Though it was thought I was baffled, and dispel'd, and my wiles
done, but that will never be,)
Defiant, I, Satan, still live, still utter words, in new lands duly
appearing, (and old ones also,)
Permanent here from my side, warlike, equal with any, real as any,
Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words.
I’ve never known the devil—Satan, though,
I’ve twice encountered, not as evil, but
as angel—lovely, soft and beautiful
and gentle in appearance; quiet, calm
and terribly offensive nonetheless;
and undeniably a messenger—
I’ve never walked away from Satan, since
I deeply trust in deepest dread the Prince
of consequential peace, Deliverer
of fearfulness’ release, may sometimes bless
an angel of temptation, like a balm
in Gilead, to salve (not solve) my full
extent of questioned, doubted faith—and what
I’ve known of such I trust, I pray, is true.
And way to go, Whitman, for preaching in art. Makes me think of a great book (with a dated title): James Weldon Johnson's God's Trombones: Seven Negro Sermons in Verse (1927).
"Every genuinely religious person is a heretic, and therefore a revolutionary" -- GBShaw
- hester_prynne
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