~Judas130

may it be

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About Me Member General Poet Joseph Michael Neary18/Male/United Kingdom

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The Orator

[This poem encapsulates the passions of the speaker, who sees little but hypocrisy in a preacher of a particular religion. Whether the speaker is an atheist or not is weighted towards his anti-theistic bias, and clear veneration of man's bestial subconscious. This poem is but one speech to a poetical and philosophical dialogue I will title 'the Orator'. The scene is set in the living room of a decorated town house, owned by a preacher, possessing a view of a muddy street inhabited by the impoverished. The two men are not alone but accompanied by various mediators who will provoke the arguments and control the direction of the discussio

~~One of the poetic speeches for a dialogue I'm beginning~~

Newest

The Whitehall Cenotaph
There is a special solidarity, During the quiet intermission, Until the day's rain is spent And the winds burn away; But outside we tire and pay,
Barbed, hung like wind-chimes, And this cherished memory,
Fluttered and forgotten, Has all the potency of whispers.
In November, on the Eleventh hour And the Eleventh day, Bow, pray - and never betray Those eyes of stone and dusty form, Those bootless, limbless, and never warm, Dried by order yet still proud, still tall; The fathers of your father's fathers Make their march thr The Whitehall Cenotaph
by ~Judas130

Dissociated Imagination
As worry fleets across waves And shadows lighthouses, Clouds are masked for daylight,
And the sky, in such sight,
As the earth was to the mind, Performs emotion in succession, And, with prodigious obsession,
We may relish the flavour Of some luminescence,
Solitary ghost-wishing, In dreams like echoes of song; Words, confined to art and prong, Scattered in the damp air And, with searching in prayer, A final regression, the impression Of image and compressed desire, Hushed free as we perspire Our fleeced dialect, bashful, Daunt Dissociated Imagination
by ~Judas130

Onus
slip away/ salivate/ dine with debt/
repress/ sedate/ cold sweat/ forget/ we must become/ one silhouette/
the closest conjunction/ medicate/ try to function/ towards one fate/ do not cogitate/ deselect/ hesitate/ ... the system has found/
a defect/

/disappointment bleary and away from kind hands i follow the metronome over rock, under storm, a platform and a noose/ Onus
by ~Judas130

Acting
When all delights in our Laughter has strayed
For pondering the Betrayal in man’s trade And memories of grass are as children’s myth Mysteries churned and turned barren herewith When histories are blood-written and true
And redden water from pigments fresh and blue That earth held Pride without industrial scars And once spellbound tears gave slumber to stars When nests of fruit are as thickets of winter Their yield like foul and poisonous splinter Where peace is found on fleshless lips in curse And sieges all that denial failed to purse
How can you sti Acting
by ~Judas130

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deviantID

_{I was born in Islington, North London and later moved to hertfordshire where I developed my taste in English lit and history - living remarkably close to the 'Howard's End' described in E.M Forster's novel of the same name...it is known as 'Forster country' for this reason and has retained its original landscape for many years. I walk a great deal and I am a guitarist of 11 years. I watch a lot of romance films because, well, its cathartic to be honest. I study English literature and other varying debate and essay writing subjects. I practise Choi Kwang Do martial arts also.
In terms of what I do, I am a writer: I venture into Neosurrealism and macabre writing, embarking on a self-journey in an attempt to mature my thinking and refine my imagination. Without hindsight, I was not prepared for the pessimistic writing I now write, yet my style/concerns have evolved and it is my ambition to keep going as a means of expression...I sometimes dabble in sonnets and "pure" poetry forms too.
In order to show my great appreciation of nature, instead of writing like the purposeless and tediously passive Georgian-writer, I have switched to amateur photography as a hobby - so forgive my bad aim!

thanks, Jo}

Update...

Tue Nov 10, 2009, 12:03 PM

Rant Time

_{Music
1. James Maynard Keenan, the singer of the visionary progressive band Tool, sung, in the song 'Lateralus', that "over thinking, over analysing, separates the body from the mind". I assumed this to mean that any form of philosophy should be avoided lest our brains jump out of our heads - but i've taken a new meaning for it. I'm a very analytical person - it's destructive sometimes: nothing I observe, ponder or partake in escapes a thorough analysis. I suppose the curse of philosophising is that you spend more time thinking about life than living it - but i've heard that one too many times now. Instead, I have come to know my thoughts or my mind better than I do my own reflection. The body is corruptible, in a state of physical flux - each day I am different; I find no certainty or conclusion in my appearance when I look sternly into my own eyes. My mind, however, has become my temple - my guide and my expression. I am not recognisable physically to myself - whereas that is all many know me by. Perhaps the excessive analyst is, by character, a metaphysical entity, translating the alien world of empiricism into readable code. Maynard was right.

Politics
2. I suffered a political 'breakdown' recently. I do not change my ideas easily, yet I had a good long think about my views (which were right wing). I was confused with all these notions of justice and peace/pacifism and equality and morality, concepts of people over caste (thus against class status, and yet also against one workers state, as a worker belongs to a caste) and the fact that I've been arguing for something (British conservatism) that does not represent my social status. I was flooded with concepts i've, in the past, actively disputed as having any relevance in reality.
I've developed a left wing MORALITY, washing away my political reservations and apprehensions, my traditionalism, my misanthropist viewpoints, and my blind rejoicing in selfishness and capitalism, even though I have no capital of my own. The film 'battle in Seattle' stresses a good argument 'stop! don't you have children?!? when will people matter more than profit?'
Socialism in terms of theory works with these morals, but in terms of application has shed, through Communism, the blood of the people it aimed to protect like lambs - Stalin's purges, militant oppression, and the like. I'm an English student (so essentially a penniless writer 4/5 years from now - not some businessman), born in Islington to Irish immigrant grandparents on my dad's side, and my own mother. The Southern Irish do not have a conservative bias, as they've fought long and hard against conservative Britain until Baldwin in the 20s, and again against Heath in the 70s.
The reasons for this conversion were moral, but were not of a religious kind - just out of respect to humankind in an active way. I've always wondered why I liked Dicken's condition of England novels so much.

Science
Carl Sagan. end of story.

The Arts
3. Those who haven't yet, check out the film director Michel Gondry, director these two surreal gems:
- Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
- La Science des rêves
Also, can the poetry of John Donne be any more unbelievably brilliant? I tried to resist it. I failed. I'm still a huge Pope fan though.}