⚡️THANK GOD FOR POETRY!⚡️ After a long life of experience and observation, I have to confess that I don’t really fit into this strangely-fallen world, in which the vast majority wears a mask, cares not about self-awareness, is only motivated by personal gain (no matter how much they may dress it up otherwise with virtue-signalling), has no real fidelity, has no sense of honour, is riddled with cultural baggage, is unable to think for himself or herself, practises wholesale wilful ignorance, is enslaved to fads and fashions, has no discernment or critical thinking processes, is moulded by conformity and sycophantic “people-pleasing”, is easily blackmailed because of fear, is easily triggered through conditioned responses, and is therefore entirely untrustworthy. No amount of “positive thinking” or “being in denial” can change that. Light does exist if one looks for it, but that doesn’t negate the above. It’s like being an alien visiting a dystopia.
Thus, despite my joyful feelings at sunsets and smiles, presents and presence, birdsong and bleary-eyed kid-talk, the miracle of music, the way that trees look, a meeting of minds (soul-sex or sapiosexuality), the diversity of faces, the pregnancy of Spring in Winter, the dance of electrons, the fact that there are horses, French kisses, angels, atoms, village idiots (bless them), lovemaking and cheesecake, I am still a kind of reluctant visitor to this planet, a square peg in a round hole, an outsider, a hesitant passenger in this cosmos who feels intensely all the pain of humanity, the cries of the weak and oppressed, the heartache of the grieving and unloved, the slow skewering exodus of the terminally ill, the fact that more than five thousand children die pointlessly each day from drinking contaminated water, the futility of countless lives on earth, the narcissistic self-centeredness of so many, my own personal flaws and inadequacies, the sad servitude of the selfie-addict, the enslavement of daily work for the unfulfilled, the sociopathic nature of politics, the ability of most of humanity to be so easily deceived by chicanery and subterfuge, the illusion of “democracy” (just a fancy word for ‘engineered consent’), the abuse of not only the word “love” but also its true nature, the false application of the theory of relativity to human morality and truth, the destructive stupefying controlling nature of religion (as opposed to true spirituality), the normalisation of personality disorders, the accusations of having a “phobia” because one can see through the destructive stupefying controlling nature of religion and exposes the normalisation of personality disorders, the mass obeisance of people everywhere to pseudo-authority, the life-stifling blanket of conformity and — last but by no means least — the mind-numbing menace of mediocrity. I feel it all with the greatest intensity and wish it was all otherwise. But it must be so for now, until the Big Transfiguration of this present heaven and earth…
Sometimes it is all too much…
But I thank God for poetry!
I use the term “poetry” to cover all forms of artistic expression:
music, literature, dance, painting, sculpture, film, theatre, photography… any medium which offers the potential to change a human soul.
In fact, poetry is…
anything which chimes like a perfect bell
(thus warning and informing and declaring
what we need [not want] to know or tell).
Poetry is anything which rhymes with unseen beauty
(thus divulging revealing unveiling
the secret heartbeat of divine creation
the anchors of infinite foundation).
Poetry is anything which speaks to our minds
about the masterpiece we call the cosmos.
all things orchestral
engineered bridges suspended on high
the sound of life leaving when anything dies
rocking chairs, rivers and rippling lakes
lanternlike fireflies and longing which aches
a soul which is mellow and willing to serve
a chrysalis lifeform about to emerge
the love that I feel for an open true heart
a brain which is piercing, not just cool and smart.
A list of this nature could go on and on
(and nature’s the word singing poetry’s song).
Hyper-sensitivity is the province of all true artists. That’s not the same as snowflakedom. For the reason they engage with their art is not to escape the harshness of some distasteful part of reality but to enhance it! One cannot really escape from reality for it is a bi-product of the creation of life and time in what has fallen into 3-D matter. Ask any artist of any kind and s/he will tell you that when they do their art everything begins to make sense — things fall into place — one starts to get an inkling of why one is here. A mission begins to take form. And if one is then a servant of the Muse, one is also a servant of the Divine (for the Muse is an angel sent from God to hone our creations, and to refine). That’s what it means to say from your soul: “Thank God for poetry!” (the quest becomes whole).
Creative artists are angels in this world (in the true sense of the Greek origin of the word, “angel”, which is “messenger”). A creative or artistic gift is a privileged one which must never be prostituted in vanity or greed or abused through exploitation (no matter how many mouths you have to feed). We have that gift in order to be messengers of life and love — to encourage, to motivate, to precipitate, proactivate, to provide eye and ear candy for the soul, to embolden, to catalyse, to confirm, to awaken. The expression of one’s gift of art is not an escape but an enhancement. It makes this world of degraded dreams — this citadel of scrambling souls — a more tolerable place in which to temporarily sojourn.
The presence of poetry means that I don’t have to keep saying: “Stop the world I want to get off!” For poetry sweetens the ride and honeys the trough.
Thank God for poetry! 💖
© Alan Morrison, 2019