Rituals of Being - A love Poem to Gert Nygårdshaug

 



Lippy Pod (ode to Gert Nygårdshaug)


Like a shout-at at Shut-eyes the book of change       Firmness gives

benefit Beyond the alchemist I Found       The firm gains from his grounded grace       The stubborn drains from his dramatic

drone A strangely Catholic magus Brought life back to fairy tales

Making me want to search for Valkyries in the endless deserts A dessert for broken heroes He was       Born in the post-idealistic dream of Brazil Woven in the heads of expats and rebels       Executed and carbonised under the white

star of army generals The butterfly catcher of the Amazon Shot in the back of the head          To make room for new brilliant paper ideas  Blue-morpho escapes the splatter               as settlers in top-hats and umbrellas gained a new coffee Shoppe              on sacred ground


They see zero, in your six-o-clock news And daily Herald, as absolute But I saw Null Plus When you are presented with nothing But behind the mask, within that nothing      of a Zero       You find something 

I read of a man that ate

himself Then was reborn Your Zero makes the story annul    It’s a hollow hull, the shell you read and mull Open your eyes to Null Plus     My idol sits in a cheap

hotel room              In the depths of the Guatemalan Jungle       -the one that ate himself Then was reborn –   Slowly, patiently, tending to tangles Pruning off piss ants and bloated pidgin buddies      -those with venom resonated   Under their fingernails- Pruning them off the steps of the first Aztec temple In a mediated roar My diorama of thought is loosely esoteric Stones of hearts in magma Pragmatic perma fractures Spreading out into green spirals A seeedy pod puzzle Marbled plaque gilded    By rosy cheeked prophets   Quasi holy ones   Like Oprah, Dr.Phil , Tony Robins and in the reverberation of their yattering     Sometimes

I get confused        My brain – I gave to Nietzsche – one time       For further inspection He snorted the arachnid membrane And sold it to an anatomist Just checking your plasticity and any possibility       He said and bought a whore for the cash Writing about the delirium of syphilis Under a graveyard tree The zero in your chaos     And fancy for Alpha Man         Null Plus I did read about the Ugliest Man   But there was also the childbridges and the

wizened Wiseman         your zero makes the story annul         it’s a hollow hull the

shell you read and mull Open your eyes   Null Plus   Tying brooks

into bubbling streams       I sat down to twine rope     From annual stems and puddles While watching         In a meditative silence   for the seeds to burst through the ground                 and spread into fields of life


              Ohm ..

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