Leaving The Moon and Art Night With Kids
LEAVING THE MOON
By Xyldrae Diane Espineda Jacob and Xyljon Noel Maano Jacob
As the car turned they were
Leaving the moon…
Footprints of houses, homes
Carried by tenacious flesh at legs’ edges
A road turn that turned new art old…
Poet’s anatomy,
Rapid physics on perplex dimensions;
Star-written compositions of astronomy
Fashioned toward astrology…
Biology of souls
Biology out of bounds
Empathized chemistry…
Literature found…
Child or wanderer?
Or both? What do we know?
Howling breaths aside from taking them
Chants of the sufferers, slaves to Allure
Surfers of the unfamiliar
Surfaces of a fleeting rocket
Will an explosion occur?
It all began with leaving the moon…
–
ABOUT THIS POEM:
While driving my sister Wanna and her son Baby Jon to buy milk, the moon hanged beautifully on a thicket of clouds and a shy gathering of stars rendered a calm night. On one turn Baby Jon uttered: “MOMMY WE’RE LEAVING THE MOON! WE’RE LEAVING THE MOON!”
The statement called for a literary unfolding.
It was art night when this poem was created. In my Valhalla the kids came. Baby Vaughn said “Tata Di can you teach me how to make a poem?”. Baby Jon said “Tata Di can I draw?” So both had their pens and empty sheets. One wrote. The other drew. Baby Vaughn was unable to complete his first poem because Erasure made him decide not. Yet him and I constantly paid attention to the 3-yr old’s drawings. On one piece Baby Jon explained: “These are footprints of dinosaurs and …. ” I didn’t hear clearly. Then Baby Vaughn fondly smiled and said “Are you nuts? Only dinosaurs and chickens and animals and people have footprints.” Then I asked the latter, “but isn’t that what Baby Jon said?”… Baby Vaughn said (with a facial expression that connotes some sort of amusement to his Baby brother):
“No. He said ‘footprints of dinosaurs and houses and chickens and dogs…”
Then we both giggled while the littlest was busy with his masterpiece. I told Baby Vaughn, “Footprints of houses! That’s some kind of Imagination- Houses ought to have feet to have footprints. I find that statement very poetic.” Of course, I could not teach this adjective (poetic), yet, to a 6yr-old. So I just told him to carry on with his poetry and use imagination in such a way.
And that is how I came up with the poem “Leaving The Moon”. So since I’m using Baby Jon’s metaphors… He’s technically co-author. 😀
Baby Vaughn finished his first two lines of “The Big Kingdom”:
THE BIG KINGDOM
by Xylvaughn David Gonzales Jacob
The Big Kingdom is a beautiful kingdom
Where joyful people have lots of freedom
So there goes his first rhyme.
Copyrighted in xyldrae.deviantart.com
DECONSTRUCTING JIM MORRISON (Prose to lay off that Cinderella poem and elaborate a facebook profile pic description)
People have claimed that at the climax of Jim Morrison’s “mockery on God”, God took his life. He died.
Perhaps people say that upon perceiving some unconventional poetry of his such as this segment of one of his works:
And I remember
Stars in the shotgun
night
eating pussy
til the mind runs
clean
Is it rolling, God
in the Persian Night?
On that, all I can say is this:
“In this meaningless life of mine I have seen both of these: a righteous man perishing in his righteousness, and a wicked man living long in his wickedness.” – Ecclesiastes 7:15
At first I thought Jim Morisson is an anti-Christ. But the more I read his works, poetry… the more I see and feel him seeking Christ. Besides, he most wrote His name with the appropriate capital letters, one thing that requires absolute belief and great reverence. Afterall… he speaks of the garden of Eden as he admits the worst he is in… and desperate to return… (“God’s strength is best seen in our weaknesses” says most people)… He pleads as a true believer:
“There’s a palace
in the canyon
where you & I
were born
Now I’m a lonely Man
Let me back into
the Garden
Blue Shadows
of the Canyon
I met you
& now you’re gone
& now my dream is gone
Let me back into your Garden
A man searching
for lost Paradise
Can seem a fool
to those who never
sought the other world
Where friends do lie and drift
Insanely in
Their own private gardens”
– excerpts from his “PARIS JOURNAL”
“I love those who love me, and those who seek me find me.”
– Proverbs 8:17
I do not know Jim Morrison personally. But from his genius works, lamentations perhaps, this Light I’ve found.
I use his poem TIME WORKS LIKE ACID in this profile picture:
Xyldrae's most judged Profile Picture on Facebook
TIME WORKS LIKE ACID – Jim Morrison
Time works like acid
Stained eyes
You see time fly
The face changes as the heart beats
& breathes
We are not constant
We are an arrow in flight
The sum of the angles of change
Her face changed in the car
eyes & skin & hair remain
the same. But a hundred similar
girls succeed each other
…because it says many different things, good and bad, challenging the perciever to behold God’s and man’s art, one of the two, or something plain superficial to be taken in a worldly manner. And perceptions change every second as sights do, even still photographs… Herein, “a hundred similar girls succeed each other”.
I only look down on people to understand their worst, and through their overcoming, behold their best whether the best has taken form or not.
Jim Morrison (from wikipedia.org)
By the way… I’m driven to write about Jim Morrison after a poetry-reading session with my Babes, Sherylene De La Cruz. We understand these things perfectly together, discussions unnecessary. After reading each other random works of his, epiphanies, we came up with our own scribbles:
THREE STEPS
As the wind blows, my knees weakened
and found myself in prayer.
The elements cast our heads bowed-
celestial inclination
after shrinking’s end
Off to the tunnel of glory
casting away all the fury – Let there be
drought for deep awakening!
—
SOME KIND OF FUNERAL
Dirge for the superficial will,
The sheep,
The crab,
The maggots,
And the geniuses in ghost-disguise.
A funeral for the
Abortionists
Of Art,
Of Life
Look for that insight
Embedded on the estranged heart.
Be it welcomed. Nourished. Flourished.
No digging of shallow holes
Of/For the rotten.
But explore that Black Hole
That’s existence’s already to You known!
Eternity
Was and Is
Always a part of You.
The perfect pessimists together, digging the Light from the worst, becoming greater optimists by the hour, and optimism has no bounds.
DECONSTRUCTING CINDERELLA and some other poems (WARNING: Not suitable for little girls!)
DECONSTRUCTING CINDERELLA
Everybody knows her story… branded Cinderella:
She was born. She lost her mother.
Some witch took over. She lost her father.
Her properties coveted by step-women.
One day with the help of pests for friends,
And her bored fairy godmother,
She catches the lead clown in a social circus most grand
Leaves one of her shoe pair upon unethical eluding
Per chance to be found.
And she was.
Clown boy puts her back in her original place
And they flatter happily ever after.
Here are the non-moral lessons:
Cinderella is a loser.
This has nothing to do with parental loss.
She simply lost her sense of self
When she chose to be coveted
She had no role in the story
Aside from being the conflict for the doers of deeds.
Pests got to be friends.
Fairy godmother existed purposely and looked good.
Clown boy is tagged heroic
And step-women were made necessary for all.
Okay. Okay. MORAL LESSON:
To be not mundane, know yourself and be.
A LITTLE LESS IN VAIN
If I could get some native to lean this rooftop pillar
Paint half his face with sunlight, radiance exact,
Take a snapshot and go
Send the photo to some Sherlock Holmes
To identify exactly when and where
My timestop has been missed…
It would be a little less in vain.
BLASPHEMY THROUGH SILENCE
Ennui is offspring to a fool and his continuity
They make such a horrid family
Casualty to awareness
Blasphemy through silence.
The Man With A Hoe By Edwin Markham and The Proper Study Of Mankind by Alexander Pope Plus Some Random Resolution and Thoughts
The Man with a Hoe by Edwin Markham
Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,
And on his back, the burden of the world.
Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
To have dominion over sea and land;
To trace the stars and search the heavens for power;
To feel the passion of Eternity?
Is this the dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
And marked their ways upon the ancient deep?
Down all the caverns of Hell to their last gulf
There is no shape more terrible than this–
More tongued with cries against the world’s blind greed–
More filled with signs and portents for the soul–
More packed with danger to the universe.
What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
Are Plato and the swing of the Pleiades?
What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
Time’s tragedy is in that aching stoop;
Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
Cries protest to the Powers that made the world,
A protest that is also prophecy.
O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
Is this the handiwork you give to God,
This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?
How will you ever straighten up this shape;
Touch it again with immortality;
Give back the upward looking and the light;
Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
Make right the immemorial infamies,
Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?
O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
How will the future reckon with this Man?
How answer his brute question in that hour
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake all shores?
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings–
With those who shaped him to the thing he is–
When this dumb Terror shall rise to judge the world,
After the silence of the centuries?
———–
The Proper Study of Mankind by Alexander Pope
(My all-time favorite)
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;
The proper study of Mankind is Man.
Plac’d on this isthmus of a middle state,
A being darkly wise, and rudely great:
With too much knowledge for the Sceptic side,
With too much weakness for the Stoic’s pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest,
In doubt to deem himself a God, or Beast;
In doubt his Mind or Body to prefer,
Born but to die, and reas’ning but to err;
Alike in ignorance, his reason such,
Whether he thinks too little, or too much:
Chaos of Thought and Passion, all confus’d;
Still by himself abus’d, or disabus’d;
Created half to rise, and half to fall;
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
Sole judge of Truth, in endless error hurl’d:
The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!
Go, wond’rous creature! mount where Science guides
Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides;
Instruct the planets in what orbs to run,
Correct old Time, and regulate the Sun;
Go, soar with Plato to th’empyreal sphere,
To the first good, first perfect, and first fair;
Or tread the mazy round his follow’rs trod,
And quitting sense call imitating God;
As Eastern priests in giddy circles run,
And turn their heads to imitate the Sun.
Go, teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule –
Then drop into thyself, and be a fool!
Superior being, when of late they saw
A mortal man unfold all Nature’s law,
Admir’d such wisdom in an earthly shape,
And shew’d a NEWTON as we shew an Ape.
Could he, whose rules the rapid Comet bind,
Describe or fix one movement of his Mind?
Who saw its fires here rise, and there descend,
Explain his own beginning, or his end?
Alas what wonder! Man’s superior part
Uncheck’d may rise, and climb from art to art:
But when his own great work is but begun,
What Reason weaves, by Passion is undone.
Trace Science then, with Modesty thy guide;
First strip off all her equipage of Pride,
Deduct what is but Vanity, or Dress,
Or Learning’s Luxury, or Idleness;
Or tricks to shew the stretch of human brain,
Mere curious pleasure, ingenious pain:
Expunge the whole, or lop th’ excrescent parts
Of all, our Vices have created Arts:
Then see how little the remaining sum,
Which serv’d the past, and must the times to come!
—————-
SOME NEW YEAR’s RESOLUTION:
-> I shall never bury any castles and I will never be dragged by pessimists who don’t know they are. Instead, as a vigilant Christian and battlemaiden of our Lord, I must strive to expel the demons that diminish the efficiency of communication among people. Of course, achieve all these through Christ, in His Light and for Love, who is God.
-> No more emasculation of foolish pursuers, but otherwise.
-> No more mediocrity in writing. No more worldly expression. No more superficial concerns.
-> No more robotic routines. No more!
-> Pain gives us a sense of what matters. Never miss this Light, and never act on the emotion but act on the Light.
-> Never miss the glorious beauty in EVERYTHING. Never miss God’s beauty. FULLy allow one’s self to receive and live by His Love and splendor.
-> No more dead Prose.
-> For the sake of True Sanity, never procrastinate nor waste tolerance on mediocrity!
-> I AM MAKING DOUBT MY FRIEND TODAY AND EVERY DAY IT INCESSANTLY REACHES OUT TO ME, BUT TO MAGNIFY THE GREATER GOOD ATTAINABLE ONLY OUTSIDE MEDIOCRITY.
-> And of course, try to stop smoking. Hehehehe
————-
RANDOM THOUGHTS:
-> Pessimists. The best of them would dread on good things you say containing words that don’t seem pleasant to their ears. Then they will tell you to get out of the dark while missing the Light that you shed.
-> Passivity and Ennui are some of the most powerful weapons of the Evil Ones. Sometimes, passivity parties in the Patience costume while Ennui presents itself strongly as irrelevant. To see through this, like Christ, one must constantly seek God.
-> Validation is a very powerful tool for both good and bad. Likewise for invalidation. Imagination + good intentions + validation/invalidation = mountains moved.
-> Great gifts seem to be curses. Great insight, great awareness, prophecy and strange things alike that are often misused. They simply are tamed with good intentions.
-> By touching one soul, you allow that soul to touch another and another and another. See how even VIRUS can be good. So in God’s own image and likeness, for His glory, make good out of everything!
-> Tinker thoughts. Tinker sights. Tinker everything until you see none but Light.
-> God is the best Lover there is.
-> Never say NO to GREATNESS! Know that you are, and be all-out your best self, flaunting the very unique being you are that no other person in the world can be. This way, you attract the right people and spare a lot from heartache and confusion, including yourself.
-> People will offer you a lot of things, mostly what don’t even belong to them. And this is most apparent in the context of courtship.
-> Romance is sacred. If it isn’t, it isn’t romance.
-> The difference between Patience and Passivity is that patience has a next move. Passivity doesn’t.
-> Each person has a connection to another. The active Christian always finds it.
Valkyrja*Soul 