inside the egg

[panta rhei]

we live inside the egg
we have scrawled
indecent doodlings
and the first names
of our enemies onto
the inside of the shell

we are hatched

whoever breeds us
also breeds our pen
and one day when
we're hatched out we
will immediately draw
an image of the breeder

we assume we are hatched
we imagine a good-natured fowl
and write essays
about our sitting hen's
race and colour

when will we hatch out?
our prophets inside the egg
argue about the breeding time
- they assume day x

out of boredom and genuine need we
have invented incubators
- we care a lot about
our offsprings inside the egg

how we would like to
recommend our patent
to the one who guards us!

we live sheltered
inside our shell
senile chicken
embryos with knowledge
of languages and speech
thinking and talking
and even discussing
our dreams

and if, if we are not hatched?
if this shell will never crack?
if our horizon is nothing
but the horizon of our scribblings
and never
never will become
more?

we hope we are hatched

and even though we talk about breeding
the fear remains that
someone outside the shell
will get a hungry feeling and
gives us a roasting
and sprinkles us
with salt -

what are we going
to do then
my brothers and sisters
inside the egg?

[Artguy]

"I am the egg man..."

The egg is indellible...both beginning and end even though neither exists in the great samsaric continuum...

[Doreen Peri]

Excellent extended metaphor!
Really fine poetry, panta!
It often awes me that English is your second language.
This is one of those times.
My jaw dropped when I read this!

(Kurt, your eggman painting really goes well with it, too!)

[tinkerjack]

what are we going
to do then
my brothers and sisters
inside the egg?

There is no exit from the egg here
Outide the egg is still inside the egg
Christ panta I got no idea
am I speaking in extended metaphors
Oh what an Enemy I have in German
I long for the precision of that language
I mean that there is always one egg in side the egg. Like those Russian toys that you open one egg and find a smaller egg, and another.
Our modern industrial chicken house we poke our weary little beeks into is Kulture.

eggman thank you, very beautiful and fitting,

[hester_prynne]

up the hatch,
cracked spiral
staircase,
feetholes
leaden
with cutting threats,
sharpened fears.
Go anyway,
my champion.
Break on through
to the
outer egg
door,
there,
where the shell
is made of
beveled
looking glass,
and narcissus
sees galaxies farther,
within himself.

Absolutely love this Panta. Bravo.
H

[tinkerjack]

Absolutely love this Panta. Bravo.

I forgot to say that sister

Reading it for threats Hester, paraphrase of my classics professor telling us in a fit of despair, "Oh what an Enemy we have in Greek." It was when he was tormented because he could not express the meaning of the words from ancient greek to english.

Those gallaxies we see filtered through a translation, Einstein wrote in German, Freud wrote in German, sometimes the meanings get pretty fuked up by bad translation.
Maybe I should have used this emoticon when I said German was my enemy

I got to do my homework, I pulled "Kulture" off the top of my head for the extro-biological womb we are born into. Of course there is an exit from that womb, that egg, closest thing I have found is to the east. Zen, our precious gift from japan, we gave them nuclear snap shots of people walking the strees now foreever shadows on a wall. Someday we going to go to a true world serries in Osaka,

sorry
just say Hi-Jack

[panta rhei]

kurt - what a great picture.
looking out from and into the always within.
i see the painting is numbered ... are there more of that series?

doreen - thank you.
such words, coming from you, are a true compliment!

jack - i am wondering whether this womb we're born into might be eternity.

hester - break on through to the other side.... from where even the same shell, the same horizon may look completely different. thanks!

[tinkerjack]

jack - i am wondering whether this womb we're born into might be eternity.

you betcha
and what we die into
what we were born out of
I am no theologican kind sister
I am just a poor excuse for a writer
( maybe I should have said a poor excuse for an existentialist. an exitestial strip tease artists)
I know that these words are wired in
Homo sapien monkey brains so eager find meaning
connecting word dots to express thought pictures
my fleshy fingers, my mortal fingers that type
they know that the word has become real
a western Hindu Holy man said
there are no accidents
but I wonder what?
"G-d does not play dice with the universe" means in German, I mean what it looks like. Is that really what Einstein meant? Did he say it in English? So what if it is an eternal crap game?

sorry panta I am pretty drunk right now but I can slur my words
in friendship
I have no duality about religion and science, it is all about mystery.

edited three times two aspirin recomended
jt