Paldet et quaia ton noltoc (my 2nd & final sound poem)

I am only posting this because I feel that I must. But, it will be the only other artifact I put here in this genre, which I, most likely, do not really understand.  Take it as an ornament, a bauble, a bagatelle, a trifle.


Paldet et quaia ton noltoc
poito te demma kenaq ti
duis eth enta nalha
plenka dishent

Nalqa shet belo zu ota
croy esh ed zelbid dekahk di
xuid en belfa nackto
xeqqa kadidt

Ornos indavo pi qleshtah
tues ed natta dohn eth id
Naiva yn sowto cheltis
kli dinnah quif



4.2018 


*

Wow. Google detected some Catalan:



Paldet, which way you do not
Maybe it hurts you kenaq you
two of them
plenka dishent

Nalqa shet belo zu ota
croy esh ed zelbid dekahk di
xuid in belfa nackto
I got a kadidt

Ornos indavo pi qleshtah
t ed ed natta dohn eth id
Naiva yn sowto cheltis
kli dinnah quif

***

More notes, breaking words up, sending them through singly, going by sound, with more phonetic spellings, etc.:

paldet: Danish, paddle
kenaq: Albanian, pleases
kena: Malay, to be hit

plenka: film, Russian - film
dishent: Chinese, low permeability

Nalqa - Bulgarian - pressed (nalgas: Mexican slang for buttocks)
shet - Albanian - sells
bela -  Portuguese - beautiful
zu - German - to

ash - Albanian - ash
zelbid denak - Basque all of them
di - Italian - of
xuid - Hmong - break
belfa - Arabic - thousand
nackto - German - nackt - naked
xeqqa - Kurdish - wrong
kadidt - Hindi - crazy
kadid - Eastonian - what
kadi -  Swahili - card
kad - Lithuanian - when

or nos e nd avo pi klesh ta - Hindi - And on the question of abuse
tues ed natta - tu es et nada - you are nothing
Naiva yn sowto cheltis
kli dinnah quif
last 2 lines are a jumble of sow, child, naive, Naifa, - Arabic and other languages

Kouros 2

3 for this work. But what. wait.
No, I dint hear    you
back of the mind
back door man

but that's someone else.
Sancho? No. Led
Zeppelin. Hole oughta
Love

That was Jean Paul
the Hole
(cunt)
mouth

in his. It must be nice
to occupy a chair
in a Paris cafe
& write

It must be nice. Eye
wood never
no.
Janet &

Christmas Snow
in a Santa Monica
apt. Not bungalow, where
they

go down slow. Jim,
have you? Probly knot—
witch
knotty pine

who sang of those poor men drownd
in the Edmund Fits
Gerald & Gerald fitz
Michael who

hears a hoo
elephant  
o (Spanish: or) oliphaunt by the weigh
me down

under
please Father call me
home Abba O
nevermore

no need, the
black byrd
Elizabeth & heavens ta      !
Betsy

William !  (william)  birds & imposters,
william
Jim—
           let's

8.19.17

Blue Red

                for Tad Rapid & Tirds McGee

Blood is blue inside and red

outside ∴  Blue good, red bad.

Red: Alarm. Red stands

for police & ambulance.

Blue: Mel's Passion: Think

Gesthemane, in blue: Good.

Blue link, good link;

Red link, no link ∴ 

Blue good, red bad: Red light:

Stop, but green light—

wait, no, yellow that— wait

Red cross good, right?

Yes, right, right ∴  red cross

should be blue cross? And?

Blue Cross Blue Shield !

Cross is Christ, yes, and

plus sign tilted becomes an X and

x means times, that's right, and yes,

t means Time, of course, of course

∴  plus/minus one/zero equals a little and

of course a horse

is a horse of course

and Paul saw Peter

and Peter saw Paul

and 42

means

at all

6.20.15

2 Poems About a Bird and a Fish

           For Heather

1.

There once was a bird who loved a fish.

He thought the fish was quite a dish,

but the fish was playing hard to get,

and the bird got nothing, except     wet.

2.

There once was a fish who loved a bird.

The bird thought that was quite absurd,

so she chirrupped out a reprimand.

But the little fish didn't understand.

about a month ago

En Route

We lay sidewise, to our left Mount Sholo loomed,

and beyond it, Nogun Peak. Walking Bear

a cloud ahead of Skyhorse. The wind screamed,

the fabric of the Cosmos felt a tear.

Above, below, the Ancients battled, bolts

of massive force collided in old war.

So we lay still, beneath our heavy pelts,

and spoke in whispers, glad for the sun's flight,

for the deep hours, like two newborn colts,

licked and awkward, squinting in the light.

Now when we turn we see the colored tents

on Trone, where we are pegged down for a night

of Everwinter, where the violence

of bitter winds and frantic, whipping snow

whistle and rip at rugged tarpaulins

that keep us safe and sound. Too soon the glow

of dawn leaks through the kinks that lay us bare

to God, the world. And so we rise, and go.

Tannhauser Gate shines dim and winks afar.

12.24.14 —2.22.15

Cecily's Fingers

She broke the icecream sammiches in two

and set them caddywampus in a monkey

bowl: a dish in institutional slang or jargon,

can hold oh say three quarters of a pear

or peach, with juice a brimming nigh the brim,

because this juice is corn starch mostly, strikes

and sates the sweet-tooth smartly and the tongue

alarms with viscous goodness cuz, cuz that's

like that synthetic interlude that Jonesy

plays in All my Love, that syrupy beauty

Frank wld detest no doubt, pray we avoid it,

but Frank frankly, there was a dryness there,

an absence, no titshaped saline drip dribbles

as cometh say from some solo piano

of Chopin, Beethoven, when to Frank we hearken.

Still, skies brighten, not darken.

Devotional ii

It is concluded. Exuent.

    He there alone,
    His finest Son

in that intolerable restraint.

Still in the mind the flags of pain

    flap red, and beat.
    It is complete.

Now comes the thunder, and the rain.

12.24.14

The Fat Lady Sings

When compasses are all aligned

    and needles point to truest north

    we'll celebrate the coming forth

of man's recalibrated mind

and hold our hands and dance with glee

    upon the grave that is the world

    and see the flags of peace unfurled

across the heavens' canopy

in melted colour, vivid, flapping,

    thwicking thwacking in the wind

    and cry with faces drawn and thinned

from lack of sleep and endless clapping—

and when the bells ring in the new

    and ring the old convictions out

    we'll beat the square pegs in a rout

to clear the field for me and you

to build our global village up

    and raise our kids to think like us,

    without the politics and fuss,

and with our overrunning cup

of happiness and health we'll raise

    a toast for uniformity

    and comfortable conformity,

all clean and pressed for salad days,

like tender fishes in a tin,

    we'll thank the godless heavens for

    the loss of poverty and war

and for the blissful state we're in

until the twinkling stars above

    the cattletrucks have waned away

    and all the cows are home to stay

stuffed full of joy and peace and love.

12.16.14 

In Response to a Thread at the Sphere

              w apologies to Christ & RLS


Good and godless:
Both have spoken.
No-one's spotless.
Man is broken.

Dr Jeckyll
Mr Hyde
Who is outside?
Who's inside?

I have never
read the book.
I should really
take a look.

I am weak
and Christ is strong.
Turn your cheek
and sing along.

7.4.14

Wish of a Kitchen Maid

Is that my loved one coming
    through the mart,
to start the leaden drumming
    of my heart?

Is that him on his Shire's
    back so high?
The spark of my desire's
    flame-blue eye?

Are those the corded thews
    of his arms,
and that the lady who's
    won his charms

with plumpness in the bodice
    laced up tight,
which drew his blue eye's notice
    yesternight?

Indeed, it is the bitch.
    See there, he
dismounts and salves his itch
    with very

indiscreet and copious
    long kisses,
and gestures that make obvious
    who is his

lucky and young lover.
    Now, heart, ease.
The dream we had is over,
    so stop, please.



10.10.13

Glad Piper

For Ian Anderson, a lifelong inspiration and hero

 Piping gay through glade and glen
 with stag and hare he leaps,
 lifting his knee while bird and bee
 their company he keeps.

 The moon his lady and his love,
 the sun his golden king;
 earth his garden, God his Warden,
 watching everything.

 White his hair and green his eye
 his beard long and silver;
 bright with glee his melody
 that ripples like a river.

 Mired with mud his leathern boot,
 his tunic caked with dust;
 Black his belt as a panther's pelt,
 his cap as red as rust.

 Old as a star, mad as the wind,
 with bounce and bound he hies;
 swift as a viper, the Glad Piper
 flips his flute as he flies.

10.4.2013

Singing Gardens

On the earth of jails and gallows
singing gardens will bloom - Menke Katz


On the earth of jails and gallows,
singing gardens will bloom;
the prison house, with rat and louse,
will be swallowed up in gloom.

On seas of scows and whalers
a silence will fall again,
gilt with sun's gold, as in days of old,
before the seafaring men.

In cities that once were prairies,
fields, and green woodlands vast,
big grids will fail, as sirens wail
in a darkness that will last.

In nations that once were empires,
where industry fattened on war,
banks will tumble, and want will humble
the rich man and the poor.

On the earth of jails and gallows
gardens will sing and grow wild;
and Christ the meek will teach and speak
in the breath of a sleeping child.



 - 9.17.13

Owl on the Mere

Baleful his note of warning
repeats among cattail and reed,
in the murk of the deep morning
when he begins to feed.

Coneys from their safe warrens
and mice from their burrows creep;
but round these blighted barrens
the waterfowl are asleep.

Over the mere's still water
he scans with his weather-eye,
where skims the spindle-legg'd spider
and floats the green dragonfly.

Now with a swift, silent gliding
he swoops upon his prey;
scared creatures fly into hiding
to wait for the glimmer of day.

Baleful his note of warning,
to any who listen here.
Now, crowned in the gold light of morning,
sleeps the owl on the mere.



9.16.13

Harrowing River

The red Harrowing River,
under a moonlit night,
could make a mastiff shiver
and turn its master white.

Cold and wide, her waters
are rife with many a soul;
many men's sons and daughters
in her deep fathoms roll.

Her shores awash with evil,
her nadir heaped with death,
this sinuous, sliding devil
would stop an infant's breath;

would heave a crest at Yahweh,
had she that high a grasp,
and, were not Christ so far away,
on His hem she would clasp.

Should the Lord forgive her,
pray let us not forget
that baleful Harrowing River
that runs through man's heart yet.



 - 9.14.13

Little Davy

Little Davy
reached down
to the ground
put a pebble in a sling

then he took a swing
of the thing
and look, that boy
took that big muthafucker down

Goliath
go lieth in thy grave
for Little Davy
hath saved the day

and you are on your way
we pray
(maybe)
to the bosom of the Lord



first week plus one day 9.2013

The Red Slayer's Widow

The ivy creeps on the tower
in stealth to the highest window
where kept in a stony bower
waits the Red Slayer's widow.

Her silver hair
and dark eyes glare
and glimmer in cold
and shadow.

Far below in the dungeons
of the Keep of the White Prince,
the grind of terrible engines
makes the old woman wince.

Through withered years
the sounds she hears
unspeakable fears
evince.

In far gone days she gave
her tender heart
to darkness, and from darkness
shall not part.

Red Slayer's widow, lament.
The blue-silver moon
and the owl on the mere
your doleful accompaniment.

The love that she remembers
for her ill chosen one
still glows in her mind like embers,
and has turned her heart to stone.

Still she remains,
and hears the chains
in the cold dark depths,
alone.

Red Slayer's widow, lament.
The blue-silver moon
and the owl on the mere
your doleful accompaniment.


8.25.13

The Parson's Daughter

There at the window early
comes the rooster's crow,
and the maiden I love dearly
ambles along also.

She's come to the well for water,
a clay jug in each hand.
She is the parson's daughter,
and wears no golden band.

If I were the fair Queen's soldier,
I'd slay me many a foe,
Nor wish to be one day older,
I'd fight for her honor so.

Yet amid the strife and slaughter
my heart would keep a place
for the eyes of the parson's daughter,
that gleam with queenly grace.

If I were a temple-builder,
with naught but wood and stone,
I'd treat them as gold and silver,
and build as it were God's throne.

Near the stars I'd swing my hammer,
near Heaven my church would stand;
yet still would my fool's heart clamor
for my beloved's hand.

But I am a harness-maker,
an apprentice one at that,
far poorer than butcher or baker,
to whom I tip my hat;

and I've not the courage to query
around for hope nor hint
that the parson's daughter might tarry
to meet this workman's squint.

And so at the window tomorrow
I'll lean my mug at dawn,
and drink the day's draught of sorrow
when she steps over the lawn.



8.20.13

Over the Meadows

One day she will come walking
as stately as a queen,
in spite of the old hens' talking,
over the meadows green.

Her feet will lightly amble
straight to my cottage door,
and then my heart will gambol
and sorrow nevermore.

And naught will give me sadness,
and naught will give me rue;
my heart will be rife with gladness
should this one dream ring true.

One day she will come walking
as stately as a queen,
in spite of the old hens' talking,
over the meadows green.




8.20.2013

a-b-b-a

Abba O Father
a-b-b-a In Memoriam
rime scheme
I always favord

Veils
verses
Hymns
2 Him

left & right
on off
symmetry
opposites & relations

all equations
tripartite
triumverate
trio (Rush)

Dante's Divinia Commedia
in tercets
for a reason
not the caprice of man

3
Trinity
Father Son
Holy Ghost

subject. object. Whole
is
greater than the
sum of its parts

:triUnityUSA

William Wallace trans.
Hegel three-parted
system of philosophy
start with the preface

G0d is in the details
pay heed to translators, editors,
compilers, scribes, ink-
fingered

monks, friars, as Melville recommends
in the prologemena
to his masterpiece see you
learned a new word pat pat pat