I shall, in one fell swoop, interpret almost every amateur poet. They are special, and they are offensive. They have great things to say, and go on and on about themselves and how special they are. True narcissists. They talk about their heroism, their failed love---on and on about how misunderstood they are. They get hundreds of followers who want to be special, too. They have a hubris, which like many professional athletes is reinforced by their success. Maybe they are special? For, their story of how heroic they are---void of imagination, or theme, or crux, or content---tells all the simplistic story of how greatly misunderstood, how greatly wise they are. Nobody likes them... of course. They have great mysteries to tell us of themselves. They tell us the mystery of themselves, and its end is themselves. There are a few poets whom this is not the case. And I typically will honor them by interpreting their work. They have heroic deeds. They have things to speak. They have observations, nuanced views, making the strange mundane, or making the mundane strange. They can rightly talk about themselves, for they have learned the subtle art of self-denial. The subtle art of self scathing. No true artist can be a poet unless they have that little man in them telling them and the world their failings. The poets of modern day sing of themes... like a kaleidoscope being twirled around and around. Telling of failed love---making us horny. Is it truly skill? Is it anything worth writing? They garner their followers---for it seems the pack follows what mostly resembles their own craft. "Should that be successful, then so shall I." Thus, the Instagram Poetry gets popular, sold for millions of dollars. I don't mean to sneer, but if the whole interpretation of the poem is just a matter of getting some vague notion of you, I don't think that's a poem. Unless you have made an observation about the real world, or some real conundrum or mystery. Those who are true poets will understand this. The frustration of seeing the flocks tell of how special and offensive they are. No... what I write is offensive. Because I have the audacity to speak.
Category: Analysis
Ovid and the Gawain Poet
Ovid and the Gawain Poet. I'm reading these two heavy-weights together. Both are, Hugo de Masci. Both are “Bright minded, and expert servants of the craft.” I don't believe Hugo de Masci is a name of the Gawain author. Rather, I think it is, if communicated, a feat of the author being humble, and showing the skill he wields with the pen. As with Ovid, there is mastery of the Greek Mythos. Both crafting stories which are sublime, coherent and easily understood. There are some artefacts which I draw from Ovid. His obsession with unhealthy romance, illicit sex... and then The Gawain Poet playing with the boundaries of fidelity. It's like both poets are straining against one another. Both are communing with one another. In a cycle of time, where neither ethos was likely to meet the other---it's possible The Gawain Poet read Ovid. But, rather, the response of Chivalry to the romanticism of Ovid's adultery. It's important to know that Ovid had been exiled, likely for his stance on adultery. It is also further likely that The Gawain Poet was pushing the boundaries of adultery. Seeing where the line was crossed. Or really, striving for the line. Seeing what boundary would be crossed that would prove fatal. Ovid's obsession with flirtation and sex is found in his romanticized version of the gods in Roman Religion. It's unclear whether the Romans believed in the gods, but it seems like Ovid is clearly showing the blatant affairs of the gods to poke fun at Augustus's mandate that adultery be illegal. If the gods committed adultery, what reason ought Ovid not? Then, of course, there is the Chivalry code in Gawain. It plays with adultery---as some of the best poets do---pushing to where the crime is fatal. Is it a kiss? Two kisses? Three kisses? Dishonoring the lord of the house by taking the sash his wife had given, and then not presenting it to him in order to avoid death? Is it in the close and instant chemistry between the lord's wife,---who's more beautiful than Guinevere,---with Gawain? Their conversations, their obvious fatal attraction, the desire they have to be close to the king while in company? What's even more revelatory is that the King is not jealous of this instant attraction between Gawain and his wife. There is a sort of revelation that the whole thing might be contrived by the king---yet, we can rightly say that there is a bond between Gawain and the King's Wife that is chemical, visceral... And Gawain steals six kisses. But, he tells of the kisses to his lord. Obviously the kiss is more important than the sash of immortality. Ovid, of course, the opposite holds true. gods make frivolous love to maidens, sisters become unhealthily obsessed with their brothers, nymphs almost get raped. It becomes clear that the attitude toward sex reflects that of the Grecian religion. Which is flailing in front of Augustus. Showing him, no proving him that it is counter the will of the idols of Rome. Yet, somehow it prevails that adultery is wrong while Ovid has forgotten this. And there is a conscious reading of Metamorphoses, the almost dreamlike waking up when the crime is about to be committed. Then the dream narration of the poem moves toward the magical Deus Ex Machina of the Nymph being turned into a knoll. Or, in the other case, of the universal law being yielded to, and a brother utterly rejects his sister's love. Ovid is not aware of this---rather, I think he'd almost prefer it if the passions were acted out. Pan chasing Sirynx has that feel of a child chasing his girlhood friend on the playground. The thrill of the chase, and the naughty deed that never happens. It's unclear to me what these two opposed systems portray. It's obvious that adultery is celebrated in today's society---I understand it now. It's obvious that the code of Chivalry is dead. Yet, which system would produce the better customs? More inversely, which world was more disdainful of adultery? It seemed like The Gawain Poet pushed the boundaries of the norm---though not readily accepted at his time. And then Ovid was banished. Do the poets always entertain naughty themes? Murder, sex, rape, theft... And why do they? They obviously do for the reason that those naughty things are in us, and we need them purged from us through art. And what's even more important, is today's society getting offended by stories. Even in Ovid's time, the king tolerated tales of adultery committed by the gods. Ovid wrote of rape. The Gawain Poet wrote on a boundary which would offend many's customs. Yet, today it prevails that adultery is celebrated. Even noble. Why? It doesn't produce happiness. As we've seen. And the story is not tolerated, while the act of adultery is accepted. Pushed into the subconscious, the story is meant to act upon the desire, without really doing so. Yet, when the story is wrong, and the act is right, what can be said? If the story offends the audience because it portrays something taboo, then will not the taboo become active rather than passive? As, the story is a dream. First it brings one to the naughty deed, then it pacifies the naughty dream like it had never happened. Waking up the reader from the dream and the desire. Both satisfying it, and cutting the guilty conscience to allow them to realize “It was only a story.” Rightly, that's what the story is meant to do. It's meant to cut us. Even Bible Stories play this role, as I can see no other meaning for the story of the Levite who cuts his concubine into pieces, after she is raped. Though this is a true story, there is something built in us that feeds on the macabre. There is something in us that wants to see entire civilizations destroyed to the last child, and then to wake up from it so we can better appreciate peace. There is a fascination with war and not peace in the human mind. We are readily aware of peace. But, we do not know war. We do not know crime. So, the artist---possibly having committed certain crimes or gone to war---puts on a moral display for us, to wake us up from the moment of the deed. And thereby, appeasing our curiosity while at the same time telling a moral tale on why not to do it. Stories are integral for that reason. When they're done right. As, stories can often be the most damaging thing on the psyche if they delve into concepts of bathos. Bathos being graphic sex, gratuitous murder or the elevation of the passions. Or kitsch, which is the indulgence of lustful or aggravating themes. Such things as Pan and Sirynx, if Sirynx did not turn into a knoll. Or Narcissus and Echo, where Echo becomes the true villain. Such things are contrary to the Logos and Nature. So I have just revealed the mystery of a story. Gawain Poet, The. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Translator Brian Stone. Penguin Classics, 1974. Text. Ovid. Metamorphoses. Translator David Raeburn. Penguin Classics, 2004. Text.
Order of Longfellow Degrees of Knowledge
The pensive reader will be asked to humbly observe themselves, to find which level they have attained, if any. As, so very few ever attain even the Associate Level. The Fool - The fool thinks to know truth. Contemplating the world in one's own eyes, and wishing to conform all objects to oneself. The fool wishes to bend reality to their will, and force their view upon the world. They master the art of rhetoric, or they don't. They wish to inflect their will upon others, and thereby create reality for themselves. The Fool is the most hopeless of all the dishonorable, as they have attained knowledge of only themselves, and so wish to conform the world to their own knowledge, as if they were a god. If one thinks they know, one is the Fool. The Dunce - The Dunce neither knows truth, nor do they contemplate on truth. Most will fall into this category. By neither knowing nor seeking truth, the Dunce believes everything they hear, and does not seek what is outside of themself. They search themself, and follow blindly what others will tell them. The Dunce is an ass pulling the burden of their own stupidity. If one neither seeks nor knows, one is the Dunce. The Half-wise - The Half-wise knows there is no truth. Knowing there is no truth, they cannot attain to any truth. Believing truth is generated from their own mind, they are an imbecile, and do not seek the truth outside of them, but rather the truth within themself. By being half-wise, and knowing there is no truth, one is The Half-wise. The Materialist - The Materialist knows there is truth, but only in the physical. They can find no truth beyond what is physical, found in numbers or object. Not to say that they believe truth can only be attained by the senses, but they truly believe truth is limited to the senses, and have no judgment for reasoning to higher principles, such as ethics, the causes for law or language. By knowing only what is physical, one is the Materialist. The Student - The student is the one willing to learn. It is a dangerous time, but also a necessary time. It is a point where one can either find truth, or abandon it. It is the mean between the way to knowledge. Either one will accept God's Word, and thereby attain to wisdom, or one will deny God's Word, and thereby attain to dishonor. A student is one who is in the Mean. Associate - An Associate of the Order of Longfellow has discovered there is wisdom and truth. They don't know it yet, but they have found some aspect of truth, and by knowing there is truth, have attained to the Associate of the Order of Longfellow. Bachelor - A Bachelor of the Order of Longfellow has found a truth. They know at least one truth, and have developed a knowledge base on that aspect of truth. And knowing a truth, they have attained to the Bachelor of the Order of Longfellow. Meister - A Meister of the Order of Longfellow has mastered a particular skill. Knowing truth, they have developed that truth to have found it, and have found an objective system of order with regard to that truth. Having mastered a truth, they have attained a Meister of the Order of Longfellow. Doctor - A Doctor of the Order of Longfellow has knowledge in several fields. Knowing, and being able to connect knowledge from different fields, and finding multiple systems of order where all truths relate; and having mastered multiple disciplines, they have attained a Doctorate of the Order of Longfellow. Scholar - A Scholar of the Order of Longfellow has the humility of seeking truth. Being able to recognize knowledge, truth and skill wherever it is found. Whether a fool or sage, a Scholar of the Order of Longfellow has discovered truth can be found in all things. One has attained the recognition of Scholar from the Order of Longfellow by attaining the knowledge that there is truth, and having the ability to recognize the truth in all disciplines and men. Sage - A Sage of the Order of Longfellow has found truth. Being able to know and discern truth through observation of the simple, or recognizing it in the wise. The Sage has achieved wisdom, and begins to see the truth, connecting the truth, finding what God had spoken through the Prophets, Apostles and His Son. The Sage sees truth reflects God's word, and thereby, begins the road to true knowledge. By seeing all truth points to God's Word, one has attained the recognition of a Sage. Disciple - A Disciple in the Order of Longfellow has knowledge only of Christ, and is able to understand all things through Christ. At the peak of knowledge, comes the relationship with Jesus, and to call Him our Rabbi. One attains a rank of Disciple in the Order of Longfellow if they know Christ, and can, without doubt, affirm all truth leads to Christ. I will ask all my pensive readers to really consider this, and see if they are reflected in any of these. It is a time to self reflect, and find the Way.
The White Doe of Rylstone; Analysis
The one thing this poem teaches me, is that literary snobbery is a tradition old. One cannot recognize talent, nor genius. It's always been the case that great works were neglected. There must always be critics. Yet, how can a man criticize The White Doe of Rylstone? Only a man who is jealous of its genius. The critics of this poem are unworthy as critics. I'm a distant observer of this feud between the Romantic Poets. And I say no era had produced more genius than it. And why there were critics of one and not the other, it seems to be a place where the wicked and the righteous were dividing. As they are always dividing during and before times of great turmoil. Which, this turns up around the French Revolution, where there was undoubtedly a fracture between the good and evil. Napoleon had little effect on Republicanism in Europe, and actually deterred it if anything. However, like any period where there are a surplus of wickedness, there is great conflict. And the French Revolution---which I categorize the Napoleonic Wars into this time period---was a period where this was apparent. I'm three sections in, having read the prelude and two cantos. Aside from the obvious appeals to English Nationalism---which is likely the reason the poem was criticized---I don't see this in it at all. Rather, a sympathy is drawn to the characters, of the fatalistic move toward war. An appropriate song for right now. Una is the Doe, waiting on Emily. The purity, the beauty. What's there to say? That men gather mystical interpretations for events; they invent magical reasons for strange things. And, the poem rather gives an accidental reason for the White Doe visiting the grave. The story goes back, and tells a tale of the true, unmystified reason for the doe to visit the grave. The Doe visits Emily's stone. And that because it is her pet. What it symbolizes, or what it means is simply the overreaching theme of Wordsworth's, which is the abandonment of superstitious beliefs, and to see the true cause behind them. Peter Bell had the same theme. Rather, to defeat magical thinking with good reason. To explain the doe's arrival at the tomb because it was the pet of the deceased. Not because it was some form of magic, or the doe were a magical totem. Rather, it is to discover the meaning behind the events. The passivity of the characters are reminiscent of Martin Luther King or Gandhi. Nonresistance, and protest. Though it doesn't stop the war---it effects nothing; still, Francis' resistance displays the foreknowledge of the just cause, whom according to the poem's schema the Catholics cannot be in the right. And the end is disastrous. Emily is alone, with only the White Doe as a friend. And on the third canto, I come to the crux. It's amazing how on the very day I find this artefact from history---the mysterious sign in 1561---this very day, I read the White Doe of Rylstone, where it describes the meaning of the vision. The conflict between North and South, the conflict between Prod and Pape---Wordsworth even in line 258 quotes the very sign I saw, "A spot of shame to the sun's bright eye. " and can be recorded. The mystery of The Great Song is revealed. The vanity of the war between Papal Authority and Protestant Authority. The great destruction it reaps, and the great doubt, where good men fight good men in vain combat. I find there is no better proof for God than the timing of this little miracle. One of the finest, and I'm glad I can record it today. 1/21/22, I had found this little wonder and researched it. The sign in Nuremburg in 1561. And that is what this poem is about. Exactly what I extracted from the sign. Wordsworth says, " They that deny a God, destroy Man's nobility :" and this little miracle is proof of God's existence. I had not planned this; yet, there it is in history. A one in a quintillion chance. And the Fourth Canto expertly tells one of the great futilities of war. Men are given to a cause, rallied, but few are given to the cause; thus, the greater army prevails. In a way, Wordsworth is affirming the Fatalistic view that the right side wins its conflicts. I'm a little more leery of believing that. I don't think enthusiasm for a cause necessarily makes the cause noble. It is very possible for there to be so much enthusiasm for something outright evil, and it then prevails and creates mischief. And men, being given to the idea, to think it noble, bring themselves into tyranny's bond. Wordsworth obviously believes the Catholic Army of Seven Hundred is fated to lose their battle; because obviously they are in the wrong. I've seen other truths unfortunately. The changing of times, from bad times to worse times by the consent of individuals who think the worse is nobler than the previous. What's the worst is seeing something good, and knowing it is good, and watching all enthusiasm for it wane. It's like that moment in child's play where the kids get bored of the game, and migrate to some other place on the playground. War is no different. A time's zeitgeist is no different. There are those who wish to resist, for living is worse than dying. I reflect on that particular thought, with regard to Patrick Henry and Thomas Paine. I have no doubt that if Patrick Henry were alive today, he would be as adamant as me for retaining liberty. However, Thomas Paine would be a recluse, fearing for his life. Thus, Common Sense wouldn't be written today; for Thomas Paine the tyranny would be his rebellion, for fear of a slight chance of getting sick. There was a time period where even the most ignoble man had nobility because God's law reigned on every man's heart, even those who rebelled against Him. I do hope I'm wrong. And coming back to this story fresh, the battle is set, and Francis' entire family goes to war for the comforts of their faith. For the comforts of their old regime. And they stand on the hill, and fight. Emily, the White Doe of Rylestone, searches for her fallen brothers, and receives word that Francis still lives. Yet, it is only a fable. Francis, wishing to keep himself out of the war, even protesting the conflict, took up his ensign of his father's house, and was stricken down. There is no better poetic ending for a man. It gives me great pleasure that Francis had not struck down a man in combat, but did take up the flag of his father. I feel like no better fate could a man have, to die for his country, for his freedom, for his beliefs, yet not have to partake in the bloodshed. To take up the flag, bear the standard, and rush into battle with your loved ones, your family, your friends, your ideals---as the social order falls around you. As the insanity of the world breeds confusion and chaos. To take up at once the cry for battle, the cry to defend oneself, yet to do it peacefully. There is no better way for a pacifist to die. It is the way Ghandi died. And Martin Luther King Jr.. And the way many other peaceful men died; with the banner in their hand, standing unafraid for their ideals, and to die serving the ones they wish to protect. Other great men of peace died in old age, warning of the social upheavals which would inevitably come after they had perished. Though Tolstoy and Dostoevsky were not martyrs, Tolstoy died vexed, trying to flee the world he saw changing too much. And no better way for a pacifist and poet to die, than to die with the standard grasped in his "Palsied hand". To refused to shed blood, but to allow one's own blood shed for the freedom of others. Yet, the sad moment we realize the battle Francis fought was futile. Henry VIII was going to be king, Protestantism was going to change the landscape of Britain, and in some ways cause frightful tyranny. Where, in other countries, Catholicism caused frightful tyrannies. In Wordsworth's day, it was the very cause of liberty that created a frightful tyranny. The ideals of America swept over Europe, infatuated by Voltaire and Rousseau, by the United States' democracy, they launched into bloody Tyranny, and when all failed, elected a King who led them on to more bloody infamy. Yet, the residual of that conflict had lasting impacts which freed me to write this essay, and be heard in Europe and now even in countries which censor speech. I am heard around the world. And if war came to my country, I would die like Francis. Yet, as I recently wrote, the blood merely washes down the stream where I feed, and here there is peace. War's tide affects me very little, except to amble down the waterways. I am glad to be blessed by peace. And finally, we succumb to the ruins of Rylestone. There, where Francis lay, is the grave which holds him. The ideals are dead, and Emily is given a friend to console her. It is the White Doe. The white doe consoles her, and gives its love. It is an "Inferior Creature", that is, a meek kind of animal, thus gentle, and able to love a human. It is loved by Emily, and is her blessing through the heartache of losing her family to their ideals. The war took all her brethren, her father, and she was consoled by the miraculous friendship of a doe. Such a thing gives such promise to life. Such meaning. Such a rarity does console. Where something rare happens, where something unexpected, it gives the soul a comfort. And, the doe visits Emily's grave, as it was her friend. There, Emily is buried next to her mother, and the Doe visits the dilapidated grave sight. It is not a totem---it is a physical manifestation of a miracle. The doe, alive, befriended of Emily, visits her. It is not magical. It is not ethereal. It is physical, yet underlies what is a realistic miracle. One subtle, miraculous, yet believable. It is not something fanciful, something impossible;---it is real. Wordsworth, William. The Collected Poems of William Wordsworth. Wordsworth Editions Unlimited, 1994. Text.
An Analysis of Shakespearean Sonnets 1 – 126
One day I intend to do a line by line analysis of the poem. Since everyone ought to study one epic poem in their life---study it intensely, knowing each nuance, each line, each rhythm---The Shakespearean sonnets will be my subject. However, upon reading them, I was fully immersed in the notion that Shakespeare was singing about a gay lover. I had begun reading the first 126 lines with that in mind. However, I don't think that's an appropriate reading, and I'd like to explain some of my reasons why. For one thing, the beginning of the poem seems to insinuate that the subject being carried up was something like a son to Shakespeare, and that this individual had died, or was wounded, while courting a woman. With this in view, it makes a lot of the passages more clear, rather than more opaque. And further, if we account the latter portion of the Sonnets to the subject's mother---the Black Lady---we begin to bring a tapestry of what the poems are about. Hamnet. Whom, probably, was Shakespeare's son to a Concubine, and being encouraged to find a wife and bear a son, he had gotten himself into trouble like Romeo. There's one sonnet in particular where Hamnet is described as Shakespeare's muse in all of his work. And if it's a gay lover, I don't think one can find Romeo and Juliet from that, but rather the plot structure of the first few Sonnets seem to tell a Romeo type story of failed courtship which was fatal. Further on, there's some references to Shakespeare being a "Slave" to the subject of the poem. Some requite this as gay love, but I find it more probable that Shakespeare is using a device of irony to say that he was his Concubine's Son's slave. Which is more in line, that the adoration---and reference to Hamnet's fair skin and Cheeks---seem to be references to his availability for courtship and the wrong committed against him. There are some twenty passages I've found that directly relate to death, that the subject has died, and then the poem begins to fracture into two distinct characters. Love and then the Character of Hamnet who becomes a symbol of love. The character, Love, is possibly a reference to the fame of his poem. If Love should die, then nobody would read the Epitaph of Hamnet's. If Love keeps men reading the poems, then love lives even after Shakespeare's death. Then Hamnet, in turn, lives on through Shakespeare's poem. As there are two distinct individuals being talked about in the poem. Separated. There is Hamnet who died. And then the figure of Love, whom Hamnet becomes a symbol for. And the reading of the poem is what preserves the love. There's several hints that Shakespeare believes the poem will be skewed by the "Sluttishness of Time"; that is, somehow he could foresee the Logos being skewed, and then maybe this faulty interpretation becoming canon. I believe Shakespeare had some inclination that the poem was going to be interpreted as erotic, when he never intended it to be erotic. As the poem's subject is Love. The character in the poem whose cheeks are often referred to is dead or near death, while Love lives on and is continued to be enjoyed for as long as his poem is read, and the epitaph is read. As, the poem several times calls itself an epitaph for the individual in the poem. It is a love poem of a Father's devotion to his Son who died unfairly, when courting a woman. There can be no other interpretation, for the poem is cognizant of its being skewed toward eroticism---several times the poem is self aware that it could be misrepresented or misunderstood. And it might even seem inappropriate for a father to write such a thing about his deceased son. And Shakespeare is cognizant that Love itself could be misrepresented by the poem. It seems embarrassing, as a writer at that time was not prone to using such emotionality. However, let us look at the possibility of Shakespeare singing a homoerotic song. Then why refer to the subject having died so often? In the sonnets are some thirty references to death having already happened. Anywhere there is a slight hint of the poem becoming erotic, the next sonnet will bring one to bear with the truth that the poem is actually about Hamnet. Perhaps the "Slutishness of time" was precisely the erotic reading of the poem, that Shakespeare was subtly aware of being a possible rendering. It might have been indecent for a father to sing about his son that way, or the boy might have been commonly known to be of African descent. In either case, the poem is speaking of a Father's love, and his epitaph to his son who became the embodiment of love, having pursued a woman whom he was unequal with for the time's standard. It is my imagination that Shakespeare was a good man, who loved his son, and when his son wanted to court the woman whom he chose, Shakespeare encouraged it, and this led to the unfortunate circumstance of a wound. Perhaps the sonnets were being written at the time of Hamnet's deathbed, which could be a heart-wrenching song of a father not knowing if his son will survive. I've written copious amounts of work over the course of a day or two. It's not unlikely that Shakespeare had composed this entire piece in less than four or five days. So, it could have been written while Hamnet was on his deathbed, recovering from a wound he acquired from a failed romance. As the subject is the muse of all of Shakespeare's writing. I leave this off, as it is the interpretation that seems most in line with the subject. A father in the bargaining phase of grief, writing what is the world's best piece of literature. Shakespeare, William. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, Illustrated. Crown Publishers, inc., 1975. Text.
Analysis of the Redbreast Chasing the Butterfly, By William Wordsworth
One of the most interesting things was observed by me, while doing an analysis of this poem last night. The fact that Wordsworth transposed his Shadow onto the Robin. Making the Robin equal to a "False Prophet." The text is clear... And I'd believe he's talking about Robert Southey, and possibly insinuating a superficial relationship between the two of them; at the end, he clearly says to either commit to the friendship or "Leave him alone." It's almost, however, like Wordsworth is transposing his shadow upon the Robin---as who the figure is is only speculative---there's some non compos mentis moments in the poem, where there's an allusion to misbehavior happening with children in the leaves. Where he gets this, is likely material from dealing with his shadow... as I struggle with imagery of the same. Just in different ways. The poem struck me, as in my own poetry, there's this figure who's like the shadow. I make him into a doppelganger, and I understand him through Biblical Turn of Phrase such as Micah 7 where it says that "Our sin will be cast into the sea" or in Isaiah 53, where the poem literally says that Christ burdens our "Contagion" which I believe means something like "Daemon." The Shadow element of the soul, which the great poets touch upon. Even Bob Dylan has touched upon this shadow; the universal figure of the "False Prophet"; so has Byron, whom Child Harold's Pilgrimage is about his very shadow. There is a strain of great poets to be talking about this enigmatic figure. In Hosea it says "Death is more prosperous than his brethren." This figure is ubiquitous throughout all poetry. It may just be the Daemon which Christ subdues for us. The burden which Christ carries within Him, according to Isaiah 53. Because Wordsworth is struggling with this deep imbedded evil. The truth is, Wordsworth struggled with Schizophrenia, and judging by my own dealings with it it normally is when our shadow comes into conscious thought, and the "Daemon" is consciously touched. Which causes the sickness of the soul, and thereby, creates the paranoia. Yet, the "Daemon" is burdened by Christ; the sin nature in all of us, which is capable of having "Covered with leaves the little children,/ So painfully in the wood?" and there's a question mark. It touches upon my conscience latent reminiscing of the Daemon... either projected outward or inward. In Wordsworth's case it is projected outward, into a persecution delusion. In my case, it's projected inward, into a Doppelganger delusion. In either case, we split the Shadow into an individual separate from ourselves. A lot of great poets do this, split the shadow self and lay accusations upon him. The closer that shadow is to our own person, the more we understand ourselves to be in need of Christ. Yet, it is the figure of "Death" which Wordsworth is talking about. Death is Who Jung called the Shadow Self; Our Sin Nature; or as Isaiah 53 puts it, our "Contagion" or "Daemon". Wordsworth, William. "The Redbreast Chasing the Butterfly." Poem Hunter. https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-redbreast-chasing-the-butterfly/. 12.17.21. Web.
Blackbird, Interpretation of the Beatles Song
Obviously, Paul McCartney wants Blackbird to be interpreted as a "Black Woman". "Bird" is a British Idiom for "Woman", but it is offensive, so the song is not using this connotation. The Dead of Night - In the 60's the Doomsday Clock was, as it still is, set at near midnight. Blackbird has other connotations of "Poet" in Irish Literature and Archetypes, of a Rebel Poet. Though, it's unlikely Paul McCartney is singing about poets, though, he could also be referencing Audre Lorde who published her first volume of poetry that same year. The White Album was published in Late November of 1968. So it might be a reference. However, the Blackbird of Irish Poetry was a rebel poet who was persecuted for their songs; some were hung for their poems, while others were thrown into prison. The song might also be, unintentionally, a criticism of the censorship of black voices. The work could be claiming, though likely not intended by its author, there's a victory of the "Blackbird" to overcome censorship and Racial Boundaries. "All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise." The moment being the expansion of Civil Rights in 1968. There was a significant expansion of Civil Rights in 1968. 1968, the same year The Beatles published the White Album, there were many advances for Free Speech and Civil Rights. The Blackbird having its historical significance of a rebel poet martyred for their speech (Unlikely intentioned by the Song's Creator), and its literal interpretation given by Paul McCartney of a "Black Woman". One could almost assume it to be Audre Lorde whom the poem refers to, if not literally then symbolically, and her publication of "The First Cities". Beatles, The. The White Album. Apple Records, 1968. YouTube.
The Wall
The wall is insanity. The bricks are all that makes one insane. It's the wall that separates a human being from being in relationship. It's built by school, by parents, by war and government corruption. When asking, "Are we all just bricks in the wall?" it's saying are we all, each of us, responsible for the insanity, not just manifested in the individual, but in society as well. As, we're each conditioned by school to be a little bit of the brick. The bullies, the isolation, the disregard and dark sarcasm. There's a certain ethos in school, of disinterest, where the child is separated from their loved ones, and then placed in an environment where nobody really cares about them. And if the child cannot form relationships in that environment, all of the children in the school become bricks in the wall. And also, with the parents, and overbearing protection of a mother. Her desire to keep the child sheltered---not so much sheltered but dependent on her emotionally---creates the bricks. And they build a wall high, making it impossible for the individual to ever pass it, and thereby enter into civilization. My insanity was caused by the rebellion against my mother when I was young. And the isolation I feel that we have a strained relationship, as I was very reliant on her for emotional security. With her, I was willing to face my bullies and bravely stand up against anyone. What caused my insanity was our fractured relationship after the divorce. I was angry with her, and thereby chose to chase her away, as the proverbs go. I was very foolish. And that directly caused my mental murrain; like the Wall, the callousness of the world is infectious, and we catch it and thereby cease to be loving individuals. Which is what I'm fighting right now, to maintain some level of goodness and love, though I feel an ever present battle with the Shadow Self. As Pink Floyd would call it, I'm trying to break through the wall created by the separation from my mother and the abuse of my peers; and also, ironically, the threat of war between The United States and China. Pink Floyd. The Wall. Plaintiff, 1982. Vinyl.
Analysis of the Mithgarth Worm
I attempt to describe universal symbolism with my poetry. I tend to draw out a universal vision---though unique to my letters. For instance, the verse in Micah, which talks of our sin being cast into the sea, I make my sin a literal Doppelganger. I drew that from the archetype without being first aware of it. The same that I think there is a universal symbolism. For instance, across three continents, there are depictions of a seven headed dragon. And, in Revelation, there is a seven headed dragon. And in Norse Mythology, there is a Mithgarth Worm. How cultures relate to this aesthetic defines them. Some celebrate the aesthetic while others do not. However, in Chinese culture they celebrate the dragon, while Westerners fight it. Some Western Myths have their heroes defeated by the dragon, place it in different places of their cosmology. What's important to understand is that the dragon exists. It manifests itself in different places throughout the world, being universally symbolic of an aesthetic. The Christians would call it evil while the Eastern religions would call it good. It's important to know that I do not worship the Dragon's aesthetic. The aesthetic I worship is Christ---pure beauty, pure light, pure truth. I find it indicative of what a true God would be. It is my belief that God had revealed Himself in stages throughout tangible history. First to Abraham, who influenced the making of the Hammurabi's Code. Second to Moses, whose signs and wonders convinced the Pharaoh to create the cult of Aten. And lastly in Christ Jesus, the Man Who Was God Incarnate. I feel this needed to happen, as we derive from the symbolism across culture manifestations of evil, too. Distortions to the truth. I believe good has been revealed in stages, and I believe evil has been present on this earth, creating its manifestations. While, Christ is the ultimate good. For, He promises something important, which is the purging of our evil; the erasure of our sins from ever having existed. It's paramount for men to have clean slates if they ever intend on being good. Not to say that remembrance of the past will send one to hell, it won't. But, to say that if our past defined us, or if we were limited by it and never forgiven... if it were never forgotten, the danger is that past embittering us and turning us toward an aesthetic like that of the Dragon. As, that is the aesthetic war. Christ against the Dragon. The Christ is natural, beauty, light, life, heterosexual love; the Dragon is artificial, ugliness, darkness, death and homoeroticism. For by heterosexual love, life continues and flourishes. Through homoeroticism, life is seen foul, self indulgent and hedonistic. This fact that the modern world's aesthetic is turning toward the Dragon, obviously the aesthetic is turning toward the elevation of what is evil. What is self indulgent. What cannot create flourishing, nor brings the power of life but death. Symbolically, the image of a Man is beautiful; it is pure, but the image of a seven headed dragon much like a Dilophosaurus, with a rattlesnake like sound. Or, as Satan is commonly seen as a red satyr; that is, a color which is invisible without light, distorted into a shape half that of a man and half that of a beast. And the Satyr in mythology is unbridled lust, while the Dragon is unbridled hate. And it's seen in this that these common symbols become apparent across all culture... Perhaps because the vision, or the Logos, reveals them to cultures based upon their diversion. Either toward Good, and thereby the form of Man or Christ, or evil, therefore, toward the form of Dragons or Satyrs. The mentalities bring with them equal relief or despair. The Christ Child brings with him a wholesome carol of Christmas, of a Baby pure and innocent and the beauty of this is in the form of God becoming an infant, and dwelling among men to one day step upon the Dragon and Satyr's weapons. To make it so they cannot drag men to hell. Whereby, if one gravitates toward the Satyr and Dragon's aesthetic, they will naturally create the despair these figures bring within the culture. Not, anymore, of a child arriving in the dead of winter, but of utter despair and unnatural sorcery. Aberrations of man's form, and the corruption of strange sciences. Ones which erase definition, skew what is sin, and creates confusion about even the most basic truths. It, rather, denies there is truth. Whereby, Christ embodied truth, He was the full dwelling of the Logos in human flesh, the full dwelling of truth and sense, the Dragon is as airy as a metaphor, not embodied, but when embodied is utterly horrifying. And I have no doubt it will claim to be what created the human race, when it comes. Like the common myth is that Earth was created by alien species, this Dragon's face looks like the Grey, black eyed alien species. It claims to have created our Earth, and the hordes in follie follow him because they don't know better, but rather worship the aesthetic of the Dragon. They know not the joys and peace of the Christ Child; they never knew him, for they are embodied by a gene of selfishness and homoeroticism. One which Christ will remove, if we let Him; for that is the power of grace, is to remove our flesh, and thereby circumcise our heart. Yet, it is my life's work to show these competing aesthetics, and how they war, and what their civilizations are. What each embodied idea creates, either despair or joy. And of course the conflict of both struggling; for the Thirteen Kings are merely inventions of mine, the Dragon, Beast and False Prophet are not. In fact, they are described in all cultures, unconnected from one another. And because of this, we are beginning to believe this supernatural phenomena is from outer space, when indeed, it is something much simpler. It is the very aesthetic of Evil coming in the guise of false hope. And, only the Form of the Christ Child can defeat it; the form of the Christmas Good, the Merriment and serenity of the season. The blessing of Charity, and following the example of St. Nicholas by giving gifts to the poor, and cheering up the broken hearted. For, that aesthetic is good while our TV personalities praise impatience, and praise sin because "It works." Surely it does when injustice abounds, but it will all be destroyed by that Child Christ, and the true aesthetic of good and what is natural. Seamundr. The Poetic Edda. Translated by Lee M. Hollander. Texas University Press, 1990. Text.
The Native American Cinderella
There's a lot going on in this fairytale. For one thing, there's the animism, which is a cross cultural idea found in every continent of the Earth. Harkening probably back to the first awakening of intelligence in our ancestors. The Earth was alive, and the wind, rain, brooks and waterfalls were all living things. Then there's the Cinderella aspect of the story, the human element. The acknowledgment of a particular quality that identifies your true love. The interesting thing about this is how it's found in all cultures. It's personified in the gods and goddesses of Greece, Egypt and Germany. The sort of giving of the elements character. I can see it burgeons to the beginnings of thought, that the Earth was alive, too. These cultural traits that we share are across all humans. A sort of universal tapestry of thought, where we all share common themes. A lot of people think these stories travel, and then are reinterpreted, but I find them to be quite organic and indicative of human psychology. The Animism of the Native Americans isn't much different than the Paganism of the Greeks. If you really think about it. And then you have the Morality of Virgil and Homer which parallels the morality of the Bible in many ways. Even St. Paul noticed it. I think this defeats the postmodern claim of phenomenology, the assumption that experiences are utterly different from one person to another. Rather, I feel humans have a pretty strong shared experience, and this story popping up in a completely different continent unconnected by Europe proves that. The elements of if, the logic, roots itself in concrete truths ubiquitous to human experience. I think the modern idea of throwing away the past because we know better is foolish, and stories like these show that humans have a set pattern of existence. Monogamy being a part of that, but also the logic of a token being unique to one's true bride. Maybe there is a Logos that unites us? I'd say there is, and when we discover patterns like this in completely alien stories unrelated to European, Asian or African culture, we can only assume it's the case. Stories to Grow By. "The Native American Cinderella Story from Canada." storiestogrowby.org. https://storiestogrowby.org/story/native-american-cinderella/comment-page-1/#comment-24725. 11/9/2021. Web.
B. K. Neifert 