Alchemy of Love: A baptism and a War Song

Sadness, hopelessness, anger, and especially hatred. These are all love under a guise, hidden beneath a veil. All emotions, they are love pretending to be something else. I know this, because I know the pure essence of love, it is simply the sentiment: I care. There is only caring, and not caring, a perfect duality. It is like black and white: all-encompassing, or completely void. Love and apathy. I will play out for you, my formula, the process in which I transmute and alchemize these poisons:

I am made sore and disappointed by most other poets. No one seems to have any real vision. We have been repeating ourselves for centuries now like a nagging mother. Yet, we think we are saying something completely new! We have not even found a new way to say it! We are proud of ourselves, our intellectualism. Skeletons which we must now sweep away, dead, and underwhelming. I fill with hate for all who think yourself so wise, and it is only your one-eyed intellect, you lack depth perception. You lack it entirely. What are you working toward? If you don't have a goal in mind, why are you standing here squawking your verse? What is it your poetry will do for the species? A poet cannot be so self-involved that he writes his poems only for himself to be heard. I assume that is why some slam poets are always shouting into the microphone: no one listens to them, and so they try to scream over the static. Still, no one is listening to you, what have you got to say? Yes, I am addressing you directly, false prophet, frightened one, lonesome one, one with the shrill voice, and other. You are the reason the death of poetry came about in the first place. You have strangled it, and twisted it, so that now the idea of a poet is a moody teenager slitting her wrists! You should be ashamed; I am pounding on the chest, and forcing the lungs full of my dank, sour breath, while you stand there full of your egoist declarations, complaining of your mother, and your loves gone wrong; while the muse dies! How could I not loathe the murderer of the only woman I've ever loved?

That woman is you! Dear poet, let me explain: I love you like a suicide-friend. I watch you closely, the squint of the eye, the corner of the mouth, the trilling in the voice. You are a soul on fire; the very concept of self-immolation, annihilation. You are my own death: the coolness, the blue safety, and the walls holding it together, or exploding outward in an eruption of stars. You, are the future. Can't you see? Your words matter, I am listening, the dead are listening, the universe is listening! Dylan Thomas said “Don't go gentle into that good night!” but I say: tread lightly, speak softly, you will change the world someday, you are the world! I say: I hear you my sister, my brother, I feel you. Do better, speak, and be sure in the pools of your heart, that you are being listened to: I love you.

A wretched soul, Rimbaud, your letters make me weep: I love you.

Christianity: mislead children of the opulent omnipresent: you are causing wars, fooled into genocide, a ploy to take over the world. You have taught me so much: I love you.

Free souls, tarot fool: you live like animals, poor and bodiless, full of mind and only feasting on the mind. The sun shining on your skin, you are like a plant: transcended: I love you.

Palo Alto, Silicon Valley, Bay Area. When did you only begin to care for yourself? Why do you turn inside out like a gluttonous animal, devouring everything in sight? Don't you know you can change everything, if you just stopped eating? You will get full one day. That will be the day you remember the hand that fed you: I love you.

Military you are genocide in yourself! Cannibal of society: you make men into dogs; with the mind of a stone or a log. You poisoned the minds of my grandfathers and bred into my a taste for chaos. You illuminate the stupidity of war, and, mirages aside: show be visions of nations laying butterfly kisses upon vast freckled cheeks: stop fighting, just hook up already: I love you.

Father who exiled me with your boldness and blue eye, don't you know we are the same? Come to love yourself, and you will be beloved: I love you.

Plagues, and nations, and murderers, and atheists: you are so concerned with the actions of others that you lose the existence of yourself: I love you.

Understand what I am telling you now. There is nothing but love. It is nectar and ambrosia: delicacy of the gods. We do not feast upon it ourselves because we do not see the divine spark in our own eye, in the eye of every living thing. Understand every life as though it were your own, because it is. Uncomplicate the thoughts, and emotions in your mind, and drink only from the crystal clear fountain of love, fountain of knowledge, fountain of youth. Ace of Cups. Learn to wash yourself clean of miseries, make yourself to stand, and continue: I love you.

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