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Alan Watts on Love inspired Madness

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Alan Watts: “the most common psychotic experience is falling in love. While to fall in love is one of the most fantastic experiences in life, there is absolutely no method and no school which can teach people how to fall in love. You fall in love in the same way as you grow ears, and there is no school for growing ears. But if you’re lucky and you’re human you have ears, and if you’re lucky and you’re human, in the course of life, you undergo the experience of falling in love and when it happens, it is unmistakable and tremendous and you see in a very ordinary woman, an incarnation of the Goddess. The question is, you are certainly not sane when you see this, because she is just an ordinary girl. But actually, the veils have been taken from your eyes, and you have seen one human being as in fact they really are.

But you are of course quite mad. All inspired vision of poetry, drama, of dancing, music, is a certain kind of madness. But this is madness and madness.

Ivan M.Granger on the magic of poetry

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“Poetry has an immediate effect on the mind. The simple act of reading poetry alters thought patterns and the shuttle of the breath. Poetry induces trance. Its words are chant. Its rhythms are drum beats. Its images become the icons of the inner eye. Poetry is more than a description of the sacred experience; it carries the experience itself.”
~Ivan M.Granger

Plato on Poetry

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“There is poetry, which, as you know, is complex; and manifold. All creation or passage of non-being into being is poetry or making, and the processes of all art are creative; and the masters of arts are all poets or makers.” -Plato:Symposim

from intro to : Real Alchemy: A Primer of Practical Alchemy Paperback by Robert Allen Bartlett


          
        

william_blake: to the evening star

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“THOU fair-hair’d angel of the evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves, and while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And then the lion glares through the dun forest:
The fleeces of our flocks are cover’d with
Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence!”

To the Evening Star, by William Blake:

poetry: how does it feel now_akua naru

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Love, love mmm…
I told y’all
We would be the band to play it.

My ghetto butterfly flew away from me.
I wait patiently, by windows and doorsteps.
Play, make believe, as my tears, poor chest,
won’t succeed to breathe, if not to hear of you.

Surely there has never been a shade so blue.
A stank attitude, so not mad at you.
Not a magnitude to encompass the latitude
of my love for you.
No space and time compatible.

What do I have to do? What do I have to do?
Uh..my friends say I got it bad for you.
I do. But there’s nothing in this world I’d rather do,
but you.

I want to make love to your existence,
drenched in colors of your energy,
then masturbate to the memories.
I wanna lose myself inside yourself…
Until you find me. Confine me,
to the freedom of your prison.
Exist in the same space, same time.
Combine until your thoughts slow grind with mine.[3x]

My, I wanna drink the sweat of your intellect,
reflect, and watch your light passion walk my neck.
Caress the sights of your presence with no question,
undress to the nakedness of love, pure love.
I want to make love to my soulmate… my soulmate…
make love to my soulmate…my soulmate…
make love to my soulmate, uh shit…
I wonder, how does it feel to make love to your soulmate.
Kind of like writing poetry till climax,
till the point and place where space and time match.
Can we cross the line, perhaps tell me would you like that.
Now would you like that, tell me would you like that,
would you like that, tell me would you like that,
would you like that, tell me?

I’m gonna ask you again now, tell me..
Would you like that, tell me would you like that,
now would you like that, tell me would you like that,
would you like that, tell me..

I wanna love you more than madly.
Wrap these legs around your words,
until your speech is straddled deep, gladly.
Swim the currents of your vibrations,
be separate in one
with the same meditation..
Uh the same meditation..

Uh you know what..
This, right here is poetry..

[Sax solo]

If love..
If love had a sound
this would be that sound.
And we,
well we,
We would be the band to play it.

A Coney Island of the Mind #20

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The pennycandystore beyond the El
is where I first
fell in love
with unreality
Jellybeans glowed in the semi-gloom
of that september afternoon
A cat upon the counter moved among
the licorice sticks
and tootsie rolls
and Oh Boy Gum

Outside the leaves were falling as they died

A wind had blown away the sun

A girl ran in
Her hair was rainy
Her breasts were breathless in the little room

Outside the leaves were falling
and they cried
Too soon! too soon!

~Lawrence Ferlinghetti