The Ubermensch

 

         

Like Whitman, I am not a point on Cartesian’s coordinate, I am the coordinate, the dimension and

                 the plane itself.

Like Whitman, I cannot be described by a verb or an adjective but by a noun which fluxes in me and I only know it.

Like Whitman, the majesty of Hydrogen and Bomb is the beauty of their love spores.

Like Whitman, the electronic eyes staring in on me is an opportunity to dance to an audience.

Like Whitman, visions of a fogged city equal vibrations to the windblown tall yellow grass.

Like Whitman, I structure my life to an anarchist’s tetrahedron.

Like Whitman, I am the entirety of the sun, the cosmic inhale, the heart of the professed according to the witnessed, the whispers of rain.

Like Whitman, change is not the sword swing of a People’s Army or reform and action, but propulsion of scattered congruence, not change but growth, real Buddha stuff.

Like Whitman, text messages are the collision of decayed death, the angelic birth and reign of a thousand forthwith poetic voices all chanting silently in abrvated mispellengs.

Like Whitman, every disease under the surgeon general is an expression of the beatific nebula of the setting sun.

Like Whitman, nothing is sacred, yet all is heavenly, taken from above and dismantled for my

                adoration.

Like Whitman, I am an idea, the ones you have of the way you should be, and it’s at the back of your mind, never personified in flesh, in body, the bodies of your mind.

Like Whitman I am those bodies of mind.

Like Whitman neither I nor he, was ever he himself, Whitman.

 

Reviews

[Markymark]

Like a locomotive in Winter....I review you as a lover of the great one himself.

Fierce-throated beauty!
Roll through my chant with all thy lawless music,thy swinging lamps at night,
Thy madly-whistled laughter, echoing, rumbling like an earthquake, rousing all,
Law of thyself complete, thine old track firmly holding,
(No sweetness debonair of tearful harp or glib piano thine,)
Thy trills and shrieks by rocks and hills return'd,
Launch'd o'er the praries wide, across the lakes,
To the free skies unpent and glad and strong.

Like Frost, I like forms too.

Thank you very much for taking me back--

Markymark

[Jinx's Heart]

Extremely intriguing and mysterious. It caught me off guard when I first saw the title. Well done. Nice work!