Canto II

[8]

This was explained

away quite easily

at the time as just

another kind of schism.

Inside his mind a ribbon

of time unfurled,

An underlying truth

incomprehensible in words

yet overwhelmingly

existent, broke him

through the boundaries

of infinite awareness;

However being observed

those who would observe

him read this with skepticism

and, ironically superstition;

Primed to interpret such

behavior signified madness;

Lumps of matter others

lay claim to know better

than spirit knows itself,

Acting no longer like a

personality constructed

by society but in its

cosmic incarnation, well—

that is simply a sick mind

disassociated from reality—

 

[9]

And, that way we are

conditioned towards

fanaticism on one hand,

rationality on the other—

each glares over its reflection

Obscuring incomplete images,

Clouding everything’s

interdependence;

Each feeds into the other’s

negative energies

And sustains this perception

of duality,

This deterministic, binary

war universe

all of us are conned

into inhabiting,

under full compliance

with its laws

Convinced they are

unchangeable;

Kept vigilant in crusades

against

other people. As such

the awakened youth,

viewed darkly through

the lens

our systematic programing

colors with its delusional

sanity,

Appeared possessed

by spooks;

Mad with mental illness—

the unfortunate path one

leads to unprofitable

servitude.

 

[10]

As he grew out of the past

way of correct thinking,

“Correct” being whatever serves

the status-quo;

Following in the footsteps of those

likewise to be ruined

By what they had seen—

So too this young man

began to understand the history

of the coup;

Questioning his war-obsessed

nation’s dominion over the land;

Its revolution betrayed by secret

pacts with Power and Wealth

that erect under the nose,

on the backs

Of its people an Empire

of world control,

Completed under Liberty’s banner.

 

[11]

Daily norms include

perpetual war—

Standing armies around the globe—

Covert alliance with dictatorship—

Revival of the nuclear fallout

underway—

Cutting edge weaponry

burning for usage,

Designed especially

for sowing annihilation—

Everyday conflict heating up,

Keeping a media-possessed

people

Prepared to accept the

next invasion;

Brought to you in part

by Capitalism,

False-Christianity and other

Dominant ideologies

that structured our minds,

All covered under

the blanket term:

Democracy. We loved her

more than kin and kindred,

this hideous and tyrannical

Hydra—cloaking itself

in the clothes of an Ideal—

Adorned in Athena’s crown

a slimy beast, which

stood for precisely the

Opposite of equality and peace.

 

[12]

The new Awakened, confronted with

A choice between violent uprising

And non-violent protest, nonetheless

Remained certain of the need

for revolution;

One uniting its ends with its means,

Destroying only what it

alternatively creates

Out of the old world’s corpse;

Emerging like from a rotten chrysalis

New societies founded

on leaderless leadership.

Voluntary associations would form

The basis for our organization,

An idea met with ridicule

From this era’s most vehement

Masters and slaves; whose freedom

Depends on dollar signs

& signatures

On officiating forms, through which

Tyranny always meets with approval;

Wealth to power, always power to wealth,

Crushing the people—grinded through

This cycle of oppression;

forced into

Conditions no sentient being

would have ever consented to—

 

[13]

Though tantamount to

treason in our time

Not only to say as much,

but simply

Acknowledging the

possibility was enough

To cause many a mind—

shackled by

Self-correcting thought editing—

To reject the idea outright,

without even

Knowing. Our minds have

been enslaved.

Rather truth became the illusion,

And therein lies the real beauty

of this deception, which turns

its own loathsome perversion

into the norm—

Critics of it into traitors,

degenerates.

 

[14]

There had been such a one

among you, an old friend, who

I will call, for purposes of this

work, Valonté. I consider Val

a visionary although before

his traumatic transformation,

he was largely unfamiliar with

the scholarship of mysticism;

the fundamentals of this realm

into which he was ‘reborn,’

Yet, even that most simplistic

tenet of the metaphysical,

Clouded with codified confusion

Perplexed the rationally minded,

Stuck in assuming either one

or another fixed set of theorems

about life and death. Many believe

that random nothingness is what

has propagated things throughout

the expanse of space and time;

life is but a brief, meaningless

flash of ecstatic sufferings;

a mostly bleak, yet seemingly

verifiable fact, from which,

dogmatic religions, of course,

offer an escape: But only for

those willing to close off from

other possibilities of both

the spiritual and scientific.

This was the trade off.

Narrow your mind

so as not to fear death,

the infinite. Just one

of a great number

of keys securing

our mental slavery.

 

[15]

Raised up in formerly sacred lands

now possessed by an oppressive force,

Valonté came from

the heartland;

A community cut off,

closed in

Along strict lines of conformity

And the tributary of a once

Mighty river polluted

with

Consumerism’s residue;

Only several hundred years before

A wandering capital

of proud nations

That the brush-fire of civilization

Has razed to the ground;

erecting dead

Monuments to precious metal,

The exploitation of resource,

From a once vast pool

of replenishable

Life-force—Valonté only knew

Its mechanized skeleton—

this era;

which had grown out

of the former order

Like a cancerous structure,

penetrating through space

while draining the energy

of its host,

Shading its world from

the eternal white light;

Lost within the spindles

of a shadow play.

 

[16]

Faces of the multitude.

We were molded from birth

to fit cog and wheel,

appearing to be

Appearance

rather than of

the essential

Oneness underlying

all existence;

Role-playing without

realizing that

we follow the script;

Likewise is this

being rolled out:

Truth of a kind hidden

in verse

Fashioned with designs

On your perceptions

with which I intend

to deprogram your mind,

Subverting the dominant

narrative

With all of its pretensions

towards domination—

Countering Propaganda

with Art—

 

[17]

Creative sparks

catching fire

in your consciousness—

fanning flames of personal

transformation.

Moment to moment

from birth

our being conditioned to see

ourselves as distinctly isolated

from an origin; thought to come

into the universe

rather than out of it—Valonté

as a boy

wandered apart from his

mother—

through artificial wilderness

wondering at tamed vegetation

which grew around a neighbor’s

garden,

Dense quite often with

dandelion

blown cotton white,

yellow in

summertime,

his birth season;

But three at the time

when

On boyish adventures

of the imagination,

Warring with invisible

enemies—

Ghostly wisps fluttering

around in the wind—

Consciousness seemed

to enter him.

 

[18]

Between the vast trunks

of these trees

Only a small garden in reality

A tiny fly flew into

the young boy’s eye.

Abstractions coalesced.

The first thought being how

Such a creature might

build a house

And take a wife,

foster children.

He rubbed and rubbed,

Progressively more

worried

Yet sympathetic,

understanding of

Symbiosis and sacrifice;

One eye squinted

beyond which,

Orange-red mindscapes

morphed

From shape to shape;

Here being in a top hat

The fly walked with a cane,

Erected a two-story mansion

Inside the eye

of Valonté’s mind;

Still rubbing the raw

red socket,

His eyelid flipped

open to sunset.

 

[19]

Only significant in-itself;

otherwise an unremarkable

moment, Valonté described

this to me some night during

one of our heady discussions.

Oh, that’s right. I am called 白森.

Before his untimely passing

Valonté was a close friend of mine

about whom I’m compelled to write.

We had developed a coded phrase:

“The fireflies are out tonight,”

which implied the time had come

to create new fictions; radical verse

traditionally phrased; rebellious

philosophies; concepts of the

metaphysical that empowered

rather than enslaved. This world

within a world was just one of many

back in those days with awakening

beginning to spread like wildfire,

beaten though it was underground.

Both having experienced visions—

or psychotic episodes officials would

brand them—before being acquainted

we had already begun to question

what of vision possessed any worth.

Why else had we grown so anxious,

isolated and neurotic if having

truly glimpsed the beauty of

Oneness. The illusion of death?

 

[20]

Our experiences were indeed

so peculiarly similar so as

to cancel the magnitude of

each other’s out,

simultaneously confirming both

their bizarreness and mundanity.

All was catalyzed by a single

event which occurred chronologically

first to Valonté within our

collective narrative but only

later did I

understand that; for when

game changing occurrences

transpire in our life

we are often blind

to the resonances

interconnecting ours with another’s

outside of the all too human

understanding of linear time.

I am lucky to have been given

the opportunity to come full circle

in one attempt, interpreting

the enigmatic past through the wisdom

of future eyes.

Such opportunity was

taken from Val.

How he would have interpreted

these things nowadays that

would have been interesting to know.

Instead we can only relive

the experience again through what

he expressed in his writings

that do after all survive and which

I shall make available to you here: