Tag: the fifth of seasons

A Fifth of Seasons

A Fifth of Seasons
or
A Work in Progress

0.

A Poet sings of a tale once writ
Melodies of the Exiled One’s ways
Of water, wind, and a fire lit
Of the end of seasons, end of days
“Be it winter, summer, spring, autumn
Sung ‘twill be till the Fifth Season’s start
Whether pitch approach top or bottom
Let neither hinder a wishful heart”
Do Forest Dwellers only talk of night and day?
Do Grasshoppers learn a Mantis‘Turtle’s way?

I. Spring

*

*

*

*

Bells once again are rung
The song of seasons once again is sung
“Be it winter, summer, autumn or spring-ing
Be forgiving, be light, a soft April shower”
Finally, a journey’s motivations’ beginning
A Light is born even in Final Hour

II. Summer

*

*

*

*

III. Fall

*

*

*

*

IV. Winter

*

*

*

*

V.

The poet met a being after-life, after-death
“Are you the Bard of Time, the Writer of Worlds?”
The voice of the answer was as smooth and shiny as silvering silken
Threads:
“If I’m Death, then I’m Life-Bringer,
If I’m the Messiah I’m the AntiChrist,
If I’m in the past I’m in the future,
If I’m last then I’m first
If it’s spring then I’m Fallen
If I’m Light then I’m Lucifer
If it’s winter for me, it’s Summer for all, in
The mortal realm
I am not the Bard of Time, but
**I and We Contain Multitudes**
I’m Pros of Prose
I’m Gods of Godds
Fe-Male of Male
I-urn of Eye-rony
I yearn for year(n)s
For ages of Aegis
After rows of rows
Of lines and lines
I am what I am
I’m fine in fines
The fine in deFying
The Vine in diVining

I am a Spell-Caster,
Just as you cast spellings into poetry
I conduct magic into the universal orchestra
And today I decide that the Universe’s song
Needs you(re) instrument a little longer
For we’re not yet at the end of this mythology
Not yet at the conclusion of this chronology
At the apex of this anthology:

A Fifth of Seasons, aDrift of Reasons, a Mix of Lesions

The fifth season isn’t a piece of Time like the rest,
It’s a peace, it’s a rest, it’s a break
It’s a re-ordering of the Pasts,
So that better Futures might be written
It’s a Piece of the Present, It Lives in the moment
In this very moment…

So let me cast one final spell
Now Summer is spelled Fall
And Autumn spelled Winter
And Endless Winter will become Endless Summer

At Time’s beginning
Order was separated from Chaos
The fifth season is the power of re-Order-ing…
Spring then Fall then Winter’end Summer

At Time’s beginning
One became Two, and now SEven become One
The fifth season is the power of re-Fusion
The Man, Woman, Grasshopper,
The Poet, Warrior, Mantis-Turtle,
And Umer, a spellcaster, who echoes:
‘I cast magic out of language,
I cast spells out of spellings’

As what’s Even becomes odder
What’s strange, my Stranger of Death, is
The Alignment already showed the true order of seasons
The image of your writing already showed true Order
Thus we rewrite Pasts into one Past
And brighter futures can begin now,
For the fifth season was already upon you
Now return, Seven-as-One, to the past, to the present, to the future
For the Universal Orchestra needs to hear your voice a little longer

Let not one word define you,
Let not a single note bind you,
Let not your home confine you,
Let not a lone song redefine you,
Let all seasons intertwine with you,
As all colours are divine with you:
Be it winter, autumn, spring or summer,
Be it wind, fire, ice or water,
The Fifth Season’s unending shine is you”

The poet returned briefly to the world to finish his work:
“Be it sapphire or blueberry, ruby or lime
Be it metered or unmetered, rhyme or un-rhyme
Be it Winter, Fall, Summer or Spring-Time
When a line’s a circle, a circle’s a-ligns

At last, alas:

*Since there’s beauty left in pi squared by a sixth
Then time reorders itself again to be fixed*”

* Rewording the ending of In Glass and Ice and The Edge of Mathematics
** From the poem Song of Myself by Walt Whitman

Artists Are Spellcasters

Artists are,… spell-casters
For each spelling of a poem,
For each strike of a paintings’ brush,
Four Each soul enarmoured with their music
Is the proof
That souls are struck by/with their spells

Artists are wine-drinkers
For each cup is an obligation
Each scip a necessity
Each Calming intoxication
Is the result
Of souls calmly sipping cups of their artwork

Artists are chefs
They cook for their consumers
They taste for their tasters
And They live for their livelihood
Is the conclusion
That cooking is tasting, and living is poetry?

Artists are magicians
Now we have proof
So what’s the result?
What’s the conclusion?
Livering, Toxic, Armour?
Music, Artwork, Poetry?
The Beat of Time concludes
With this Magic:

Allow me, to cast one final spell
Let’s learn to give before we sell
Away, A Way
our Living-Hood

For Umer II

Nothing brings you home like a psychotic episode

Cartoon Bob from Palermo

Brought to you by mania.
PSychosis sold separately.

U A, M.

For Umer II

The time for rebirth was not a rumour
As even now the cycle resumes
His ugly presence’s like a tumour
And even now this cancer blooms

The darkened past remains in present
What began as hideous is still disgusting
Thus his influence is never pleasant
He’s never worthy of trusting

Yet still he’ll search for shred of evidence
And still he’ll search for just a prover
And still he’ll find not a precedence
And still he’ll find not one excuser

His touch has marred the Pattern’s glamour
What could excuse such rampant negligence?
Though might he try to trick and stammer
He only ruins fractal’s elegance

And yet his touch, and yet his manner,
Despite his ever-rising arrogance,
Might bear the mark of Heroes’ banner
O Masters, lend him this Inheritance:

The light in the dark is you
The guide in the star is you
The Hero and his arc are you
As noone’s on par with you

The end of the slog is you
The rift in the fog is you
The gift of the Gods is you
As despite all odds are you

The wine in the tavern is you
The design of the Pattern is you
The jewel in the cavern is you
As renewal of Saturn, are you

The fractal in chaos is you
The dazzle when day’s off is you
The envy of Aesop is you
As journey and payoff are you

The strength in the weak is you
As the shy and the meek are you
The mountain and peak are you
As the one that you seek is you

The destiny of glory is you
The serenity of the story is you
The melody in sorrow is you
As legacy of tomorrow, are you

The summit and tune are you
The Sun and the Moon are you
The mender of gloom are you
As splendour and Umer are you

Now I feel it’s finally time
To let the chains of rhyme go:

Those crooked foundations I was hell-bent on rebuilding
I know I now no longer need destroy
For just as mosaics are built with broken glass
That slope that Giza’s Pyramids still have today
Those diagonal dragons stand tall against the test of
Time
For in my rebuilding I’d focused too much on
Straightness
Yet the light I sought already was inside
Me
Iqbal, it seems you’d found your friend
For Our Mevlana was with us all along
Who is the Poet of the East and of the West?
Cuz now both Robin and Iqbal
Seem like R-Umey to me
Even dark now seems bright to me
As even ugliness is now beauty to me

The Pattern’s puzzle’s pieces fit together
As fractal’s fractures are fractions of the mosaic
Now all these lines and shapes
Look like ellipses to me…
Just as both what’s solar and what’s lunar
Look like eclipses, signs of doom-ers to me
And both you and I’s
Look like You-mer to me
And both zoomer and boomer
Look like shroomers to me
And past and future
Look like later and sooner to me
Since now Time looks like a bowtie to me
As infinities and zeroes intersect on the same line to me
“One shall be Two and two be One, before the future” breaks for me
As the present’s present looks like a tumour to
Me
Now both what’s ugly and beautiful
And what’s black and white
And what’s straight and crooked
Look like what’s truth and lie
And what’s me and he and them and I
And what’s water and fire
And lower and higher
And redder and bluer
And teas–er and rumour
Look like Umer to me
What was untold will now be told
As what was un-whole will now be whole
The Pattern’s puzzle pieces fit together 
As fractal’s fractures are fractions of the mosaic
Now all these lines and shapes
Look like ellipses to me
Just as both what’s solar and what’s lunar
Look ecliptical and like doomers to me
As both truth and lies
Look like rumour to me
And both you and Is
Look like You-mer to me
And both zoomer and boomer
Look like shroomers to me
And past and future
Look like later and sooner to me
As the present’s present looks like a tumour to me
Now both what’s ugly and beautiful
And what’s black and white
And what’s straight and crooked
And what’s me and he and them
Look like Umer to me

If this is what it means to go through psychosis
Then since water and life are synonymous
Allow it to reach me by osmosis
Allow it to reach if I’m anonymous

As both Spring and the Fall are pretty to me
As the Winters, Summers have shown their beauty
Now the Fifth of Seasons begins for me
Whether it be a noise or note
Every Piece of the universal orchestra,
high or low or off-beat
Now shows off its beauty to me

For this I promise, it’s never been truer
Within my heart’s a place for Umer

Dedicated to and Inspired by:
Rumi and Iqbal, the Masters and the Poets of the East
Shakespeare and Margaret “Megan” Astrid “Robin Hobb” Lindholm Ogden, the Poets and the Masters of the West

Rebirth (For Umer)

Rebirth
or
For Umer

Rip me open, look inside
‘Neeth that skin and flesh and bone
See what secrets I may hide
‘Nside that beating heart alone

Tear apart that heart, that too
Drain it of all life and blood
Cleansed, it may be useful t’you
Umer, you’re made of what kinda mud?

Detach my limbs, peel my flesh
Destruction ‘fore creation begins
Put my heart through fine mesh
Crushed it may be absolved of sins

The time for rebirth was not a rumour
This time, please lend some light to Umer

Monsters

A Face or a Bee?

Threads II / A Dream of Spring

A sequel to the supposedly unrelated Threads and The Touch of Fall


Threads II
or
“A Dream of Spring”


A dream of Spring has been recurring, it seems
A dream that friends and family never depart
A dream of tapestries woven with blues and greens
Whose embroidery has no end, as it has no start
Could threads be woven thusly, by any means?
Or will branches, once entwined, now grow apart?


As growth of life has been dictated by season
What could a time of warmth and brightness bring?
Though ‘light is not the servant of Time’ I reasoned
I wonder, in these words, does truth still ring?
Perhaps planet’s path predicts times of breezin’
Yet, this time, Summer might last forever after Spring…


If nature cradles the dreams we plant and favour
Will gardens flourish by her maternal majesty?
Will they ever bear the fruits of our labour?
Even a few fickle fruits o’ fraternal fantasy?
When even what’s bittersweet is savoured
Then gems can shine again in this eternal tapestry


So sapphire seas and emerald earth we’ll roam
And if the futures set in these crystals shatter
As sinners like myself have shown, once grown
That even as we fracture, and pieces scatter
We’ll be more than reapers of what we’ve sown
Into fate’s fabric, we’ll sew the shards we gather


The gardens we plant’ll reach forever’s fruition
And then they’ll last despite blight or virality
Then we’ll be the tasters of our own volition
Then we’ll be the weavers of eventuality
Ensuring this, I’ll make my lifelong ambition
As sweeter breezes no longer reek of finality,


Our destinies’ fabrics will never tear at the seams
For we’ll sew reality outta these springtime dreams


Inspired by Robin Hobb’s The Realm of the Elderlings
The title “A Dream of Spring” is taken from the expected title of the last volume of George RR Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire

On Mushrooms, A Poem

Inspired by Brother Bear:

The key to understanding

Is to see through others’ eyes

Phil Collins, Great Spirits

Hey, you know what this calls for? A pile of delicious barley and amber weed on a cool bed of malted hops

Rutt the Moose from Brother Bear

It seems I’m blessed by you, mushroom

It seems before I’d closed myself

And now, with you, there’s so much room

You’ve opened me and made me well

With you, I overcame much gloom

But will it last?  …Time will tell 

/

Once I’d made that fateful decision

You passed my lips and made me glisten

As sight transformed into vision

The ‘bility to hear became to listen

As my purpose now became my mission

The world became one I’d like to live in

/

With you, my sleep becomes my rest

What’ve you done to me, my drug? 

Is this, is this some sort of test?

You lulled me into comfort snug

Now, I’m not so sure what’s best

Out from under, you pull the rug

/

It seems that now I’m over relyin’

On you, to help me write this verse

You took this poet outta hidin’

I know not if it’s blessing ‘r curse 

Because, without this psilocybin 

Instead of better, I might be worse

/

Without you, why is light so dim?

Why’s the world no longer great?

You were only under my skin

You only changed my mind’s state

Celestial spheres, unchanged, still spin:

Since time began, perpetual fate

/

You altered not the world’s turning

This marble’s fractals remain aligned

Chaotic beauty, now I’m learning

You revealed it just for me to find

I live in the world of my own discerning

I’m the master of my state of mind

/

So whether or not he is a shroomer 

That light you brought, now lives in Umer

“This Too Shall Pass”

“This Too Shall Pass”

When music’s prelude’s solitude beckons

And night’s twinkling sky is full of starkness,

Then more musicians’ voices join in seconds

As swiftly as shooting stars split the darkness

The instruments of the cosmos arrive en masse

As this night, too, shall (come to) pass

/

When thrashing, deafening sounds take their toll

And buffeting winds have left the world deformed,

Then gentler rhythms return to soothe the soul 

As still as the calm of the eye of the storm

The Beat of Time now is no longer too fast

As this storm, too, shall (come to) pass

/

When melody’s rise and fall becomes too wistful

And streams of tears have flood in endless motion,

Then the orchestra’s next piece’ll be more blissful

As thoroughly as rivers drain life into oceans

This sorrowful song’s end will come at last

As these tears, too, shall (come to) pass

/

And when death declares us the dust of stars again

When storms take souls back to be one with the wind

When blood and tears return t’where rivers end

And our song’s forgot as ‘membrance of Umer

…………………………………………………………………………………………….. is dimmed

Yes, when all of this has come ‘n passed beyond this place

Then I hope the legacy of pain I caused is also

…………………………………………………………………………………………….. erased

As Time Passes

What was once alive is now dead
A time we spoke, now nothing’s said
And as the world spins into dread
There mightn’t be better times ahead…

Let not us fade into the masses
Us meager boys and measly lasses
For even the times when we were asses
Are now the times where greener grass is

And as time passes…

As time passes, as seasons change
As planets turn, as cities age
As stars align and fates rearrange
As stories reach their final page

As Earth is hit by last of rays
I have but one request to raise
To hold this memory of better days
So that this light forever stays

O precious time, o clock of doom
O beating rhythm, freeze this moment soon

The Touch of Fall

The Touch of Fall

The touch of Fall’s a sign
That change is on its way
Where will this path of mine
Be taking me today?

This twisting, turning road
May every now and then
Go to places cold
But return to warmth again

This time, as I do shed
As green is stripped away
Replaced with orange, red
I’m lost in windy sway

Please, oh please, my Fall
Don’t keep me down too long
Let’s rest awhile, us all
Till times when we belong

No! Light is not the servant
Of Time or Spring or Autumn
So keep that love, so fervent
Rise up from the bottom!

No light is lost, no love’s too much
No warmth’s forgotten with Autumn’s touch

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