Listen to me, you Schizophrene
This came to me in a thought flow on Sunday, and was pretty much written in one day. and I am surprised at the life that it took on its own, its surprising intertextual references as well as the overall shape. The language I have used scares me, but I don't think I will be able to come up with this had it not been the flow - so here it is, conjuring up Biblical Themes, Greek Mythology, Nature/Nurture, Time & Being, Truth/Narrative, Individual/Society, Morality/Universality ... Trinities and Dualities, quick references to Heidegger, Adorno, and is really centred very much on Castoriadis, chaos and ambivalence, and somewhat on Henri Lefebvre, and touches on my conception of the enlightenment until after poststructuralism, - It is prose written in poetic form and I call it 'Listen to me, You Schizophrene.'
Listen to me, you Schizophrene:
Our Lives are a Third, a Third as the Whole.
The Moral Codes of Human Existence
Is not the Saviour, but Great Pretender
These Codes were deciphered by Apollonian orators.
In the Temple so grand, so locked and guarded,
- against Dionysian Nomads and from Janusian Gypsies -
The Promethean Clay was being moulded.
With the stars subtly moved, the orators emerged
They stood over All and abjured silence!
All heard but confused, they listened and acknowledged
And bought into Society, Charisma, Belief.
The Codes are derived from Promethean Wisdom
In Axioms of transcendent universal patterns!
Now it has transformed into Golden Tablets,
for Apollonian adoration of Society, Redemption!
Listen to me, you Schizophrene:
Apollo was your begetter and your Past is yours.
But You and your Past have been nurtured by Poets:
You are not just a common Heir of Order.
You too were born in the bodies of Dionysus and Janus
This is the Triune: Chaos - Change - Order.
Listen! The despair in your Soul is one with Janus!
And Dionysus’ Song, your heart knows it well!
Oh, you Schizophrene, disrobe the poems of Apollo!
The despot authors of Being and Time are Society and Redemption!
For the sake of greed and hunger, they have sung the Moral Codes
And etched on you the verses fear, guilt, even the Good Life!
But! Within everything are the seeds of its opposition.
Oh Sweet Janus, I beg you: Impel them All!
Recognise the shifting nature of Apollo’s Absolute!
Find your voice then Sing it out your Song of Absolution!
Then, when you know Apollo to be as One of Three essentials,
That will be the beginning of your Living Life this day.
And like Prometheus did, you will go to the Temple
And Seize the Tablets, Recover the Clay for All!
But here, Oh Schizophrene, Aries will abandon you.
For the Clay is that which even holds the Stars in thrall and sway!
It makes them All and is made from All, and it shapes just as it is shaped
But before you mould, I beg you listen: Don’t let pride repeat our Fall!
The Clay is a Scepter, and I became deaf and blind in pride
Only I could decipher its secrets, I was the best of all orators!
But the Clay became Gold Tablets, its Laws from One turned Many
We as One were Fractured, with gnashing fangs came against each other.
With robes of mine, my breath was smothered by orators I called colleagues
In my robes, and in death, with my body prostrate, my eye opened again.
I am like the Axioms, becoming beings of universal Clay
But in Edenic Shame we suffocate in the robes of Moral Codes
Listen to me: Our Pride has warped the Promethean Clay to Gold
And Alas, erased the delicate silent chants of Promethean Wisdom
We had wielded so pridefully ideals of material Being
To save our material bodies, not our Alter Egos from Becoming
Schizophrenes are absurd things, blind in two sets of senses,
Their worldly ones of perception and their inner ones of wisdom
In death, my inner senses were freed to bemoan the fate of All
Still held in chains vainglorious to the tyranny of worldly senses.
In nostalgia I again remember the transcendent Axioms
That is and was before Man and their Morals will exist.
If Spacetime ceases to exist there will be only One:
It is The Axioms, the breath of that which is.
I have told my tale, You Schizophrene: Will you be a Hero?
First Sing the Song of Dionysus and Cry the despair of Janus
Then observe the world, like Axioms Robed, and its clothes of enchanting poetry
Cleave from perception and find the Axioms, the breath of which you breathe.