ALL SEEKS MERELY TO BE (Penned in early twenties)

Still,
choking upon the bittersweet juices
of this Life's fruit,

Yet what is to be savored,
of the delectably flavored
must first through all drought and frost take root.

Still,
are my soul's hands bled and sore
by the thorny stamens
of Love's ever receding rose,

Yet the aloe vera of its mollifying memories
and anointing amenitites, in plenitude still grows.

Still,
in the garden of all omniscience
the Seraph of Beauty is mauled and jaded,

Yet in nearest proximity too, lies the Beast,
irreconcilably invaded.

FOR JOHN FREDERICK NIMS (Accepted to be published in Nomad's Choir)

Early 20th century North American poets,
strange but poignantly familiar voices
preen my weary heart,
an unwanted child orphan of post-modern day,
out of its anachronistic agony
into a time where people resided
within the unadorned, earthen Church
of Tradition & Integrity,
a time where we walked and we talked
with such purity and simplicity,
a redeeming reflection of only the facts felt,
where we were more in touch with the reverent acknowledgement,
that all that was truly worth knowing,
was all that was truly worth saying.

A WAY WITH WORDS: THE POET'S ATONEMENT

Like the serpent was for forbidden fruit,
The devil's advocate I've become,
Bearing a countenance of lachrymose seduction,
Having taken a vow of infernal luxuriance,
The devil's advocate I've become,
Poor, poor dear...
much adherence here.

Like the Fall was for Mortalkind,
The Saviour's Cause I have shunned,
Bearing a soul of eternal pilgrimage,
Having taken a vow of apostasy,
The devil's advocate I've become,
Blind, blind seeker...
Ah! But what an eloquent speaker!

CLAUDIUS' HYMN

Heaven hath no fury like that of a devil born.
When I was born they say the Earth shook with pre-ordained doom,
And God wept with unfettered gloom,
Mortal eyes looked away in digust and shame,
As I reveled in my post-natal fame,
For a fate of Rage and a sickness of mind,
Had already put me in quite a bind,
I am the Eternal Child of Nature's Being, raw and wild,
Come to fruition in one lone soul-
Yet sooner or later, it must blow-
It must blow,
With the force of a wrath justified and true,
For where two rights make infinite wrongs,
Faith in Truth, one must renew,
This heart is deeper than you will ever know,
And if I die drowning within myself,
At least I will have earned, one less foe.

AND ALL THEY GIVE YOU IS THE DAMN ANSWER (Published in Art Times)

The lines of fragmented ardour pierce as crazy rays-
this way and that,
And I am left bereft of much to say,
But anything that will bring,
This geometrically inept mind,
To incalculate understanding.
Yet it all keeps coming to 360 degrees,
a full vicious circle of transience,
Quite moot in its points, configurations and convictions.
For the variables may alternate,
But the solution is always the same,
One which never ceases to elude your figuring as to how you got there.
So, you go to the back of The Book-any old book,
And all they give you,
Is the damn answer,
on yet another 'Why?' axis-
An elusive coordinate,
Survival vs. Thrivance,
this Life and the preserving of it vs. this Life and the Living of it.

A WINNING FILIBUSTER

A ravenous desire,
And a broken will,
Walking on barbed wire,
Another vetoed Bill,
In the House where Discretion caddy-corners the Senate of the Id,
Falling over the edge within a dream within a dream within a dream,
I awaken to the maniacal laughter of the spin-doctor to the Politician of Pain-
A winning filibuster.

I, ONTOLOGICAL

It's not the weight of the world so much, 6 sextillion tons of dead weight.
It's the weight of the self, black hole singularity, infinite live weight.
Even demi-gods eventually fell, gave into the weight of their own worlds.
But truly, the question is posed-
Which is a more reasonable & sound expectation?
An inquiry not altogether moot.
Yet still, both are unaswerable, given the lack of any empirical affirmative and/or negative to be found.
Thus, to which do we owe our devotion, the prostration of ourselves?
If it is said that the outer world is changed first from within the chrysalis of each self,
how has the world gotten off so easily?
How has anyone transcended anything?

We must be gods.

THE WELLSPRING OF LIFE

To not allow the evils that have been done unto you to become of you.

To acknowledge the darkness around you without allowing it into you.

Guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of Life.

To separate your true, god-given, virtuous essence from that "self" which the world and the tasks of survival oftentimes call you to be.

To gain your true strength from tender-heartedness and compassion.

To fight the inhumane with only the humane, always.

To fear most of all, becoming so hardened to the bad at the expense of the good and the just.

To defend yourself and others not with antagonistic posturing, but with protagonistic Surrender & quiet Dignity.

To fight unseen principalities of Destruction & Defeat with foreseen principalities of Resurrection & Victory.

All of this in God's name we pray. Amen.

A SYLLOGISM FOR THE SPIRIT

There is a God.
God is not ill.
God is not broken.
God is not empty.
God is not lost.
God is not imperfect or incomplete.
God is not disenfrachised.


You come from God.
Therefore are you well.
Therefore are you whole.
Therefore are you filled.
Therefore are you found.
Therefore are you perfect.
Therefore are you complete.
Therefore are you Home.

Now, believe in what you are not.

Now, be what you are.

THE UNHOLY TRINITY

Me, myself & I-
The unholy trinity,
An existential vacuum echoing on into Infinity,
Unless both the "I" and the "We",
Can Coexist,
In the unparalleled bliss,
of true Unity.

THE VOID OF A VOID

My well has run dry and I cannot even describe the sheer Terror & Anguish this brings. My whole life is in the balance upon the tip of the pen. I never even imagined that I would lose my desire to create. A part of me that has always been so essential to my well-being is seemingly lost, gone. And I would suffer even the most unimaginable horrors just to get it back-my chi-my life force. Although this horror is, in and of itself near the mark of unimaginability and Despair. There is something in the human soul which clamors for elucidation & expression. It is a need next to none. Does this reside only within the soul of the Artiste or in everyone? Everything is at a standstill as long as the heart remains unstirred. It is a nothingness and existential sense of nullity which even Sartre or Nietszche never touched upon. For between Being & Nothingness lies an even deeper abyss. Perhaps its name is Apathy. Or perhaps it is Mother to Apathy-Ambivalence. We can never escape non-being, but can we ever embrace being? Yet we must, if the Void is ever to have any meaning. Every force produces its equal and opposite reaction and not strictly in the Newtonian and phenomenological sense. Meaning itself derives from the union of opposites. And perhaps this is a gift, for nothing-not even nihility itself-is ever truly meaningless. Although this does not lessen our pain in the face of it. But the presence of the pain, parthenogenically born from our sense of barrenness, futility and emptiness nevertheless suggests a fullness & abundance of Being which is always there, even but if only as images within the ever-envisaging human psyche. Hence, even Nothingness is always, quite Something. And oftentimes, our pain is, in itself, the salve for our pain. For as long as one is feeling, or as long as one is conscious of something-one is Being, one exists, is alive, has substantiality. This is often why we cling to our pain at the fear of never finding relief, or perhaps that we will?  We must have something to hold onto, even if this thing which we cling to is, in actuality, a losing of our grip. To lose always includes a gain and a gain, an equally commensurate loss. This is why the ability to hold onto Joy should be regarded as nothing less than the miraculous display of an inner fortitude and Virtue of Sysyphean task. For it is indeed, a superhuman feat, belonging to the leagues of all ontological argument, where the Idea always presupposes the Actuality. For truly, there is no evidence that Joy is a more valid and noteworthy emotion than that of Sorrow, especially in a world of such fleeting felicity. The doctrines of Nihilism are very seductive, yet still, when we must inhabit a mind and heart which often cannot choose between Equanimity or Struggle. To choose between one Truth or the other which is just as much of a verity-is at the heart of the human condition and the various configuration of trilemma and seemingly endlessly regressive doctrines and Byzantium architecture we must decipher and navigate. The attendant Fear is often so great, that neither nor is secure. For just as soon as we wholly embrace one Truth, its equal yet antimonous opposite becomes all too manifest. And then we are ravaged and lost once again. But this truth is exactly what makes all forms of bigotry thrive. Thus must we learn to embrace it all, although no one person can even know or see it all. This is the true act of Faith, where Ambiguity must become the God we worship daily before the indestructible Shrine Of Exigency. And learning how to persist in this cruel task without becoming totally adrift is a lesson that only the blessed can fully assimilate. For not unlike our love, belief and conviction must be spread just thin enough that it can maintain its clarity of purpose and efficacy, without losing its viscosity. For we can become One only when we embrace it all with equal measures of awe and expectancy. Then we are secure and left with the Ultimate and most essential task of all: Becoming all that we are. Between Being & Nothingness lies a Perfection already operant behind it all. We are complete. We are whole. We are meaning. We are the Universe. Life is in love with us. Will we marry it? Oh, we already have-even in our hours of Despair. Nihility is an illusion. It is all full beyond measure. The only Void which exists is the Void of a Void.

THE DETHRONEMENT (Penned in twenties)

You sit, a false god on your crumbling throne,
Wreaking chaos,
To rival what peace lost-
Oh, at what cost,
Will I continue my prostration before you?

The divinity in me must replace,
What profligacy is riled by your face,
You want me weak,
So you can be strong,
You craftily turn right into wrong,
But now I must sing, my song,
At the altar of my true Lord & Master,
For as my earthly Mother & Father have continually forsaken me-
Only He hath reigned ever after.

And oh, at what infinite and exponential profit,
Will continue, my prostration before Him.

ODE TO AYN RAND: ALL HAIL TO THE INDIVIDUAL!

A certain form of self-centrism is the prerequisite towards reaching an authentic state of altruism. My relation to the whole has no true meaning without first establishing my individuation apart from that whole, as much as my individuality possesses no substantiality outside of the parameters of the collective whole. The purpose of our existence is to discover our individuality whilst synthesizing that very uniqueness of self peaceably with our coexistence with the collective whole outside of the solipsistic microcosm of the individual self. But much like the Idea being the Mother Of All Invention, the Individual is the Mother, in actuality, of all Unity. It all begins at home, to put a different spin on the old adage. Hence, contrary to the traditional ways in which self-centrism is frowned upon in our society, it is, actually, a very virtuous endeavor. Thus, All Hail To The Individual!

MOSAIC (A Poem I Penned In My Twenties)

The stunning mosaic of Fear
easled as higher Art
within the banquet halls of the esurient Heart-
the going price
a damning diminution
of Transcendence, Absolution.

The massive cloak of Apathy
modeled as finest wear
though shockingly bare, there underneath
within the Saturnine Soul
yet also holstering both Sword & Sheath.

The harmonically dissonant opus of Rage
rocking & rattling the glass cage
backed by the shattering soprano scream
of a mind all too in tune
to the cruelly evasive Cathartic Dream-
a refrain ending none too soon.

-added by Valerie Lynn Stephens on November 6, 2011

Welcome!

Hello! Glad you found my blogspot of various philosophical, existential, psychological, ofttimes paranormal, transcendental meditations and musings. But, for those of less saturnine, abstruse and subterranean leanings, an occassional post of eccentricity, Neo-Beatnik irreverence, wit and other assorted Glitterati Of The Absurd and the Demented will make their appearance;) This blog will perhaps not be suited for everyone, but: Let all who have the eyes to see, envisage, and all who have the ears and psyches to hear, revel in the subtle but profoundly resonant sonancies of their own solipsistic Intuition and powers of Metaphysical Exegesis... Hence, come on in, let us begin.


I oftentimes believe in the Devil more than I believe in God. But such a thing is so easy to fall prey to when the sentient organs of mortal human experience, by Truth's indiscriminate hand, are dealt the first blows of the Profane. Yet, without first recognition of Tragedy, even Comedy turns tragic and there is no immediate cause for ever redeeming ourselves. But perhaps we do not need tragedy of any form or kind? Perhaps the tragedy is in the absurd convictions with which we create something out of what is essentially, nothing other than what it just is. But the question is-How? How now, once the acknowledgement is made, do we let go to let it all go? For the very act of surrender requires an inscience of self-sense which we are not even capable of and which would not even be in our best interest to coddle. Must Time be so consumed and must Life be, so jeopardized by this existential juggling act? And this is where the metaphysical comes in. The matter behind 'mind vs. matter', 'evil vs. good', 'the temporal vs. the eternal', 'the material vs. the intangible', 'the intellectual vs. the intuitive' and last but not least, 'the self vs. others'. Many believe that this struggle is, in and of itself, the meaning and purpose of mortal human existence. And such a statement betrays not legitimacy, as more than half of our mundane daily lives are directly or indirectly concerned with and in pursuit of the best possible life lived. From what to eat or not eat for breakfast, to what vocation or calling to devote ourselves to, every moment of human consciousness is wrought with the weight of choice. Choices and decisions, some of which have to do with larger, broader philosophical and existential and even religious/spiritual issues and others, more mundane, and, not necessarily less important, yet still, always in conflict with the full actualization of the Higher Self. Yet, it cannot be denied but however much we attempt to attribute a factor of nihility to our own individual fates and existences, truly there is no such thing, for we all feel a pull towards something far from arbitrary or worthy of our feigned Apathy and Indifference. It is a seemingly undying, instinctual longing for Life over Death-even that Death Before Dying-a faint murmur of Exhultation and Life-Force felt within us, striving to be potentiated. Even in moments of suicidal ideation, there is never a true desire for Death, merely a fear of Life. There is never really a 'beyond the shadow of a doubt'. Things are far too complex and their totality incomprehensible to us on every level at all times for such labels to be justified. Whatever we choose to call this invisible yet dynamic force, somehow we know that this life does have a higher and much larger purpose and intent. It is as real to us as our very own breath and consciousness. And truly, Disbelief 'tis also a delusion, for even the most self-confessed and professed Faithless believe quite fervently and religiously in their Disbelief, do they not? Life is consciousness and consciousness in and of itself, is a profound miracle and act of great Faith. And whom and what are we and are we not to so arrogantly dictate the order of things? The classifications of what is 'real' and what is 'dismissable'. Reality vs. Fantasy and how our society so assigns them their place, but always at too great of a price. For is not Humankind's ability to Dream and to Imagine the very things upon which all is built? If only we could evolve to a plane where the two aspects-the Practical vs. the Metaphysical-the Platonian vs. the Aristotelian-could more peaceably coexist and even collude in what we call "the real world", there is no telling what we as a species could achieve. For, in the current cultural milieu, the idealists, the romantics, the artists, the metaphysicians and philosophers get short-shrift. And Life begins to feel more like a Gehenna, an affliction of unbearable existential asphyxiation and nullity. Yet, we are all orphans of that Lost Paradise and potentially prodigal children of this, our Earth Orphanage and its Head Master, Satan. Yet in closing, all I can think of to say is: If but only we could fully feel God our Father's sense of Grief, Loss & Sorrow wrought by all of this, would we have no doubt ever again, just how deeply and powerfully we are loved and valued.

-An essay composed about 7 years ago by Valerie Lynn Stephens-added to blog on Saturday, November 5, 2011