ECCLESIA and SYNAGOGUE
BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux -
Fountainhead of Cistercian Order,
A Wellspring of the Renaissance of the Twelvth Century,
The Formative Period of our Modern Rationalities -
Had a Vision concerning the Song of Solomon.
It was believed, following the great Ambrose,
That there were two Brides in the Song of Songs:
In Catholic Allegory these were Conceived as
Ecclesia, the Mystical Church, the Christian People;
Synagogue, the Mystical Temple, the Jewish People.
A rivalry between the two brides
Of Solomon/Christ leaves Synagogue
A woman broken, rejected, confused, and perhaps mad.
This rejection of Synagogue symbolised to Catholic Structural
of the Jews and their Law.
Ecclesia thus becomes the
Only True Bride,
Church as the New Jerusalem.
In Bernard's Sermon, however,
Rival Brides are
reconciled by their shared
for a Common, yet Royal, Bridegroom.
accepts Synagogue as an equal Partner
loving and constructing, as the Helpmate, a Solomon/Christ Structure made of us.
The overtones involve proleptic legendry on a Conversion of the Jews
Prior to the Judgement and the Parousia of the Restorer of
Justice instututing the Kingdom.
In 1994, I had a similar Constructing Vision:
A Man Sorrowed who was not a sorrower
Carried two candles through a rainstorm.
In his left hand was a many-coloured
Stained-glass lantern holding a white candle;
In his right hand was a red candle,
Exposed to the wind and rain
Yet unextinguished, giving a stronger light
Than the complimentary flame.
Man entered a concerthall.
thousands were milling about in absent thoughts.
had a green candle.
candle was lit.
Seeing him, they begged
With coin and jewels for his candles
Which they supposed fired expanding transcending magic.
A deal was concluded.
person dropped his donation into a
box and then lit his green candle from
the red candle or the white.
A record was kept of each
Miraculously or not, few cheated, obtaining for free
A neighbor's illuminating flame.
The common belief was that only the red and white candles
Of the Man Sorrowed himself
Contained the True Spark.
As it was believed, so it became:
The Theatre was well-lit.
The word of the miracle
as spread quickly as
of the Green, Red and White Candles.
As it was believed, so it
became, leaving him
of Light in his despite
Alas, both Brides are the same Entity in two hypostases,
A Queen with misplaced ambition who is also a Shadow Factionalist.
Such, it is peculiar to say and perhaps I transgress myself,
She is - a Sophia-in-the-works, our Favourite Mistake:
Beatrice, the complex Soul of Mary, birthgiver and wife.
Does El Elyon look in to leave?
As the would-be World Emperors dally with her for ill legitimacy,
She flourishes and suffers greatb travail, more a Gnostic Sophia.
The psycho-biographical revelations were registered publicly
As Published Visions, proleptic Judgements:
William Blake's THE FOUR ZOAS;
Ludwig van Beethoven's LATE QUARTETS.
As a Remediation we stand strong in THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN and HELL,
Deserves - as a gesture to Good Galaxy God - to know, as herself.
Combined in viewing her self-reifications Believers, Sceptics, Denialists,
Archons and Constructionists, Historians and Leader analysts,
Decide for furtherances.
Unified Earth delayed, a Dispensation ousted,
Buddha goes to bed: What ones to do?
The Prophets declare that she complies but to supply.
Need the Moderns ask why when the Ancients did not?
I opened up my door
in a glass on the writing desk
arrangement of three lilies
a noticing note:
Of whom these mean
I'll take you to me -
Accepted in my dreams."
The Red Lily lies.
says she Is what she Is not.
leads me on and on.
never gives cause she hasn't got.
The White Lily prays.
She shines inside with tested Light.
She leads me to the Dawn.
And she always lives a Fiery Might.
The Gold Lily tries.
History and Meaning and Blood.
comes when she is gone.
I never can know her Love-mood.
With every Woman you take what's given.
She might draw you to Hell.
She might draw you to Heaven.
Same-same, as the black crow flies.
You always remember how to forget
How Love cries.
Sunset Mountain: Red-orange blues.
Top o'the world to you, missus;
I'm here for you to use.
Mixing together seems to be our fate;
But I won't countenance falling on my face
I'll be happy to help, at the going rate --
But people round here learn at such a slow slow pace.
Can you understand why I hated the wait?
Sunset Mountain Blues.
Mountain: Devil-lake black.
hear you have a child now, missus;
hope there's nothing that you lack.
an interesting past,
heard you talking aloft
what will truly last
how I never got it off
For the record it's a confused
Sunset Mountain Blues.
It depends not on what you
kinda kinda had
It played on
sorry ripped-off had been had
honour the paths you choose to choose
I'd appreciate some help with these damned
I AM BOUND FOR THE WORLD
I know that I am bound for the world
Deaf, dumb, and blind to me
I know that mind-sound which I first one-day heard
is a context in which all do agree.
So let the fires of war burn low
While Trees of Life await, budding green.
Knock not on doors just so you know:
The River: the Giver: Needs: Likes: Muddied clean.
You take a little I've heard of you
Multiply it by who knows who
Spice it up with a convenient screw.
Got Jesus mean
And there's a lotta trouble roaring down.
Waken me, shaken me,
Mouth of the Tiber
Dread Form, Honour's Tyger.
In practice it doesn't work.
In practice, it goes berzerk.
It'll all dovetail peacefully.
The Thing I never
Building into this Humanity-Reality.
Across more coherent lines.
Peace be in your eyes:
Let that be one of your sighs.
The Someday, I can make it.
And I pray I can't fake it.
as the Stars.
A System of my
Mindful of the Wars;
Find me, a male
the records that fail
Go Elsewhere to
Stars are out in the break of the Clouds.
They seem to be egging me to shout aloud.
Like a Star suspected of a Spot in the Sky
That, when looked at directly, is gone from the Eye.
ON THE MIC
Back on the mic
I hope she's playing well tonight
The dynamics with the situations are controlled:
The harmonies pitched right
Synthesis out of sight.
Knocking on my door
Bringing me down:
Dread as my heart
See out again
Maybe she wants my
world to crash and burn
she wants to see and learn
I'm a blessing or a threat to them
I know what really happened
turned me towards
he was just green wood
sentenced to death
But the Judge did
I am more like dried
Burned, I respond with
Lighting up people
they don't have time to learn to see.
oo-ah, gonna shake this,
oo-ah, tip it to
replace the roots.
shake out the world
Got a life too strange for the compilation books.
Don't want to conquer nobody
Don't want to rope in souls in my own kinda way
Don't want to be a cosmic know-body
Don't want to force God to hurry the dawn's new day.
Don't want to be freak or a whore
Don't want to be fool no more
Don't want to do this out of lust for power.
Don't want to evade the time of the hour.
Don't awnt to climb to the upper echelon.
Don't want to brief an imminent eschaton.
Don't want to warlord, but don't tread on me,
Don't love into war: Truth, baby, you will see.
I am Loyal; I am loyal to the Flag
I am Loyal; that's my political philosophy
I am Loyal; regardless to who's in power,
Let alone they or we
That's all an expensive, frustration bag
I am a thinking man, loyal to my flag.
I am Loyal but only by destiny.
on a hot sharp roof.
for a moment in the cobwebs of truth.
vision of meaning,
in the Deeplife we cautiously choose:
Concepts are mere
STOPPING AT MY FRIENDS
Stopping at a friend's
saw it all
Walking by the garden fence
I saw the vine outside the wall
Stopping at a friend's.
Stopping at a friend's
saw I am
I saw it all
I saw the truth that is ever men's
When I saw the vine outside the wall
Stopping at a friend's.
Stopping at a friend's
saw I am I saw it all
ever never ends
When I saw
the vine outside the wall
at a friend's.
Stopping at a friend's
I saw it all
saw the realm that God intends
vine I saw breaking natural law
at a friend's.
all my years, young to now,
read of battles and histories of war;
yet my musical mind inclined to Peace.
conducted myself, as best I could, with Gentleness
yet I skirt Life, engaging No-one.
Detatched and Philosophical,
Favoured by ghostly friends arising from books and music
The thorn that nagged that I'd never served:
Peace does not become an Ordnanceman.
And Peace! is it no more than Tranquility in the shops and at the bar?
Peace, I'd say, is the Freedom of Imaginism;
Commerce, to my eyes, will give us Cultured Ideas,
But Imaginism IS the Child of Vision and Love.
Are you Listening, my Ordnanceman?
We defend we say, yet we see no army
Shelling our cities, burning our crops.
We secure we say, but know too much
Of who is with whom in leanings and lovings.
It is different? we say, and tiny paragraphs entangle us in
As we wander, dash,
or stride through our Way of Life,
rely on the Ordnanceman.
A man who will kill in order
To appreciate the
Secret concealed behind the Veil.
oblivious to that secret:
hint we have is called Day-one.
We are more
likely to bring Peace by upbraiding Josiah
the killer knows the power of Freedom
the Reach of the Ordnancemean.
I've never believed in Glory;
my patriotism is encultured,
and softened by Others in Places afar.
physicalities of war - the weapons, wounds, and suppliers
Are amassed into gestures - justified in the end.
The technology of warfare, intricate beyond contemplation,
Is a tribute to the possibilities of Mankind's Motivations.
I long to be trained in a Skill more pragmatic than Musical
But Peace does not
become an Ordnanceman.
SOLDIER DEEPMAN TWO
He's been in the fore of the line
Working to bring in the due
He'll be on the floor, swing the slip
Seeing to see, doing to do
The wide world shakes for this man's sake
His hand dashes lightnings from his grip
Soldier Deepman Two
given to maidens of the mildest moon
having been carefully worked on through
to be cleaning his stables soon
the corridors in open view
his skill, hewing his will
as a wreck, even on a loon
He's taught by high-hearted healers
Why the day is long, why the sea is blue
He's read textfulls of complex revealers
A threat hunter constructing from noticing clues
Running for desire, wielding his fire
His passion is his own, uprooting killers
Soldier Deepman Two
He's a beacon on a learning curve
Where 72 equals the seventy-two
He's a leader who knows meanings of unsure
A Cause when a fact is not always true.
Content if he's gone cause the judge knows he's tried
Using soft hands to catch the contentof the nerve
Soldier Deepman Two.
I go to get at the heart's mystery.
It's Nothing New, I know from history.
I want to explore what you meant to me.
My only symbols are the Things I can't see.
Our love was a Lightningrod, a budding Tree.
I can hear the love before it starts:
A flight of rock and roll to their interesting parts.
Oddly Same, with the raising arts.
I can put it together; let some tear it apart.
Strong medicine for broken hearts.
I sing it now - a love-known Well
Which I made two-edged like the night I fell.
Of the Time of the Unspeakable, no more can I tell
The Very lights in the sky burned down to hell
And could I only sing it outright, surely, as a surety it would
shatter that spell.
A young musician had let me through a door.
We say cross-legged, facing, on the floor.
She had some music playing on the air.
I drank in her Nearness, needing nothing more.
The mood shifted and my love lay all Before.
The Song ended. She went to the record:
Drumming, bassing, lyric straining to soar.
High flying Spirit-sound - we resonated in our Core.
I knew all at once what it meant to be Before.
She taught me this
With our Oneness Kiss.
Music is bliss
it pulls you near,
Forever I needed to
I love you just for who
You mustn't be a Star-child.
Just because you are.
And it is
And it is right now
Desert wastes behind, I stand here:
Two feet approach the well.
After my gifts of days
See into a woman's face;
Bored with herself,
She'd escape from daily living.
She gathers water for her husband,
Eyes tight, just looking me over.
A glance about and she turns to go.
me to a drink," I quietly asked.
all this time!
I still see
in the life of self-present woman.
in us was, and was not.
too tasted the incomprehensible.
looks at me for shrugs.
Water! Cool and envleoping;
Enlivening, sip in swallow.
Drops taste of words in poetry,
Can water fulfill this spirit?
Matter, enrich the aery fire of a soul?
If she knew those moments of love,
Eyes meeting for mingling,
Return space to this haunted man!
I yearned, and verse
Light will often haze,
become to fail.
I am not
prophet of man freed,
not a poet of liberation.
I am not; must I be as I
As the water of inspirings fills me again,
Touching older triumphant works,
I know mine own in vision.
Here, lost love of this woman, I see all:
To give for her enables to live.
Man's world, words unsensed;
Known with the imagined eye:
Tricks of words
All the world is
permeated by the Poetic Genius.
medium lived through to be rarely glimpsed;
to be understood behind the secret hearts.
And it is I who have this!
Poetry to eye forcing into the words.
Enraptured, I know!
Finest Jesus, I know.
Seducable by syllables and sentences
I step forward to enter.
Never before, for I've too seen
Never, like ever, is merely felt.
Climbing the awareness
To one taste.
I am ready
And on out.
LIMITLESS LIGHT LEFT BEHIND
Limitless Light left behind
I drove for the bar to clear my mind
I appeared while time to catch the act.
Once inside I know just what things I'd lacked.
I felt then for I could do anything
As I asked forward if I could sing.
I plied them to play one slow, true, and blue
And I sang songs that before me I knew:
Now, perchance, I can play to you.
AM CALLED A PROMETHEUS
I am called a Prometheus.
The Title has resonances
Which strike terror into tyrants,
Which bring release to the captive.
Know, as I do, the stolen fire
Of spiritual light, stolen from the hearth
Of the uppermost levels of life.
The gods themselves fear this lightning,
This passioning flame of hope;
They entrust its dangerous heat
To priest and cleric, schooled and tested.
And I, I alone, have carried the torch
Beyond the wall of Heaven's confines.
I dared and I have received my reward:
Man-with-Woman has light to illumine,
Heat for the hovel on the wide heath.
I am called a Prometheus, and so I am.
I am tormented by the gods in my inmost heart,
Yet I travel on, bound by nothing itself.
Fear not Jove, O trembling Man;
The light now belongs to you,
And none can dim its glorious radiance
Save you yourselves, hated and feared
For sensing the secret wine of the Highest.
Torments of Jove, like stings of sleet,
Strike me, mock my open face.
Wrath I have left behind;
I have sublimest comfort:
I know, and Jove does not.
am called a Prometheus,
thus to the Eternals
emboldened by my act,
the fated futures of small man
changes courses momently,
longer following the plotted preordained;
banished, destiny now visibly evolves
each Emblem of Vision
no longer, rolling free,
by Eternity's swift Imagination.
I am called a Promethes
And I shall proclaim Liberty to the captive.
Together we shall assualt Olypmus and attain a differing victory.
This spark of mine shall kindle a cleansing blaze
Never, never extinguished; never, never, never, never, never.
Man-through-Woman shall tame the fury of Jove's deceitful world
And ride the engines of power unbounded,
Overthrowing the jealous gods of warring, wounding, and wearying.
Thus I, long gone, shall grasp my peace-part.
LIMITLESS LIGHT #02
Limitless light had left me behind
Though I'd known the words and touched their heart.
For the feeling of mine has become a part
Of long-forgotten poetry
More beautiful than they thought could be.
My thought reached into their far-future when
Something brought the song to her end.
I left for home, for you my friend
Sagely sensing a harmony to become again.
A FUTURE METAPHYSICS
Choose your metaphysics well
The fortuneseller said to me.
Many people uncover hell
In the fancies of eternity.
I saw you in a dream I blessed one afternoon.
I call it a dream though it was more of a vision.
You were standing naked in my ante-chambered room
Practicing your latest surruptitious ism.
I had to run when the wall came down
And my fellow soldiers found themselves fine-berzerk.;
Rock in my form had justly the sound
To keep me ensconsed in poetic works.
I fight to ascend, reawaken, renew;
To forge a language harmonious and true.
I study the verse of times gone dead
Thinking there is the key to the love that's been bred.
Art, in the past, was a virtuous calling
And not the debris of a culture that's falling.
I glory for my talent's responsibility;
I create with a new-found nobility.
When these words are polished and outside my control
Shall few perceive the poet's soul?
Is the way of your world to suppress, to despise
Those with the odd-light fixed in theior eyes?
Is so, then truly I don't give a damn.
I will grow to mature with my Muse a plan
And when I compose my script, to time
I'll lodge my visions of the world for the sign.
Don't be so scatterbrained
Don't be full drunk in the rain
Don't use as reasons what you can't explain.
Get your act together
I'll help it go down;
And I'll hang
a sign on the sound:
waiting up for you!
I'm not going to teach
What you want me to.
I got to be someone somewhere.
I swear I'll leave you blue.
Do what you're gone in
The nightmare goes on
And I'm not here to
Like a swell-girl
She sees clear
In this unsure world
This is no longer here
Enough to fear.
new flags unfurl
Let the continents move along
To a Type of Free-world
Where the Devil stays out
Of Children's songs
Are wise enough
To not blow up the Road.
There's a history to it
a mystery as well.
Believe me, she'll do it.
She's thought through to an orchestrated hell.
collection is built upon a work titled "Musical Poetics".
©(TX) Brian Timothy Backer.
All Rights Reserved.