Saturday, 23 May 2015

The Queen Of Sins Forgotten

By Rory A.A. Hinton

"For a man needs only to be turned around once with his eyes shut in this world to be lost ... Not til we are lost ... do we begin to find ourselves." (Thoreau)

I close my eyes
As she turns me around
And around, and back again.
We dance to the daily
Game show jingles,
As the crowds cheer us on
Into the next commercial break.
Then the dizziness, and I see them
Walking past the fortified doors.
We don't get visitors here.

I recall seeing this before,
In a foreign pediatric ward,
My little white hands
On the big wooden rods
Staring behind the cribbed bars,
While three familiar strangers
(They say I know, but not quite)
Turn a sharp corner
And vanish out of sight.
We don't get visitors here.

I recall their absence
On a regular basis now
From the sewer of shadows
Cast by Penny Wise:
Grinning death on the psychiatric floor.
This feminine l'elephant terrible,
This task mistress shaming me
Into chilling secrecy
Over natural body functions.
We don't get visitors here.

I recall them stripping me naked,
Throwing me into a tiled corner,
And then spraying me frozen
With that industrial hose.
I am my house on fire.
My kingdom for the Queen
Of sins forgotten ...
... water, water everywhere.
(A poem suddenly remembered).
We don't get visitors here.

I recall my history
Slowly reduced down
To a medicated guess.
Turning around again,
With my eyes wide open,
First found, then lost
Inside Walden's forest.
If I had a knife,
I would cut its throat.
But we don't get cutlery here.

Friday, 15 May 2015

Hip Gnosis

By Rory A.A. Hinton

She came from the center
     and she comes to those who think of her,
     and she finds those who are worthy of her.
Consider her, you who only look at her,
     and you hearers, hear her words.
     And you who wait for her, keep waiting.
Do not banish her from your sight.
Do not remove her from your life.
Do not make your voice hate her,
Do not be ignorant of her anywhere or any time.
You who deny her, confess her,
     and you who confess her, deny her.
You who tell the truth about her, lie about her,
     and you who continue the lie, tell the truth about her.
You who know her, be ignorant of her,
     and those who don’t know her, let them know.

She is knowledge and ignorance.
She is shame and boldness.
She is shameless and is ashamed.
She is strength and fear.
She is war and peace.
She is compassionate and cruel.
She hurts you to love you,
     and to protect you from herself.
She is more than you can bite.
She is less than you can chew.
She is beyond good and evil.

Do not hate her obedience,
     and do not love her self-control.
In her weakness, do not forsake her,
     and do not be afraid of her power.
Why do you despise her fear
     and curse her pride?
She exists in all fears
     and is confident when she trembles.
She is senseless and she is wise.
She is godless,
     and her God is great.
She is unlearned,
     and yet everyone learns from her.
She is control and the uncontrollable.
She is the union and the dissolution.

She is the one below,
     and all come up to her.
She is the judgment and the acquittal.
She is sinless,
     and the root of sin cums from her.
She is lust in outward appearance,
     and interior self-control exists within her.
She is the hearing which is heard by everyone,
     and the speech which cannot be grasped.
She is a mute who does not speak,
     and great is her multitude of words.
Hear her in gentleness,
     and learn from her violently.

She is the first and the last.
She is the honored one and the scorned one.
She is the whore and the holy one.
She is the wife and the virgin.
She is the mother and the daughter.
She is the barren one
     and many are her children.
She is her secret marriage vow,
     and she remains husbandless.
She is the midwife and she who does not bear.
She is the solace of her labor pains.
She is the bride and the bridegroom.
She is the mother of my father
     and he is her offspring.
She is the slave of him who made her,
     and her power is from his center.
She is mindful of his circumference,
     and knows that it is nowhere.
She is the staff of his power in his youth,
     and he is the rod of her old age.
Whatever he wills happens to her,
     and she does not complain.
She is the silence that is incomprehensible
     and the idea that is never forgotten.

She is perfection, and she is grace.
She is this smile on my face.
She is the totality of inner opposites.
She is the plurality of outer composites.
She is fortune and she is fame.
She is the utterance of her name.
She is …