David Prashker's Songs & Poems

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

The Song of the Alchemist-Apothecary (1)

"Still Life - but only just"
© 2016 David Prashker

To listen to an audio recital of the poem, click here

As the candle burns above the hourglass
time itself appears to be obscured
lost in its own mists
like a London smog

It would give Madame Sosostris a headache
It would ruin the eyesight of Nostradamus

It manifests a vile transparent tumour of its own
as clairvoyant as
Time
or
DEATH

See how it passes and declines
See how it decays
See how it demands ever greater banks of sand
to fill its obsequious
its unrelenting belly

And the sand flows
grain by infinitesimal grain
And the candle flickers
in a jest
and a gesture
and in wax

And me - it receives me also

As I prepare for ascension and fixation
As I take a chance and consult the Tarot
As I make a change and question the Yi King
As I set up my telescope
As I recite the psalm of History

It is my head
reflected in a blunt mirror

It is I - Argaman - playing with possibilities
as Akiva once played with the beads of an abacus
rearranging the coloured balls simply to claim
he had responded to the questions darkness poses
calculating time in the fourth declension

So I watch and wait

I lay my hand upon the hourglass - and turn it over

I make this
my paltry contribution to the Universe

I draw small comfort
from these minor efforts at control

You can find David Prashker at:
http://theargamanpress.com/
http://davidprashker.com/
http://davidprashker.net/
https://www.facebook.com/TheArgamanPress
http://davidprashkersprivatecollection.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkerssongsandpoems.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkersartgallery.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkersworldhourglass.blogspot.co.uk/
http://davidprashkersbookofdays.blogspot.co.uk/
http://thebiblenet.blogspot.co.uk/

The Argaman Press

The Song of Yehudah ha Nachri (Canto 1)

To listen to an audio recital of the poem, click here

I watch the sand blow through the hourglass

sinking
seeping
into the bowels of this glass desert

The sand flows infinitely
timelessly
the hourglass turning on its own axis
enclosing
incorporating
everything
the perfect structure of this perfect labyrinth
not so much a desert as a Universe

And here am I
waiting
crouched on the roofs of Shiloh like a watchman

between the two poles of the hourglass
the four poles of the mandala
the nine towers of this stone city

And here am I
waiting
forty years in the wilderness

between morning and the meridian
between darkness and darkness
between the Nine Circles and the Rose

Waiting

Until all is complete
and all is empty -

and then I turn the bowl around once more
to begin a new spiral
to maintain the constant one
(for it is a spiral
not a cycle
despite appearances:
I am one who has learned never to trust appearances)

And here am I
waiting
for you
Ayishah
gathering myrrh and spice
between kenosis and plerosis
between Apollo and Dionysos
between Yahweh and Elohim

between the Nine Crowns of the Kingdom of Alphalia
and the Nine Names
on the branches of the Tree of Life

between the thousand names of God
and the One Name

Call me Ishmael
Nimrod
Cain

Call me Yehudah Ha Nachri
Call me Argaman

And if you are coming down
through the shallows of the river Jordan
please let me know beforehand
and I will come out to meet you
at Jerusalem

You can find David Prashker at:
http://theargamanpress.com/
http://davidprashker.com/
http://davidprashker.net/
https://www.facebook.com/TheArgamanPress
http://davidprashkersprivatecollection.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkerssongsandpoems.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkersartgallery.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkersworldhourglass.blogspot.co.uk/
http://davidprashkersbookofdays.blogspot.co.uk/
http://thebiblenet.blogspot.co.uk/

The Argaman Press

Song of the Beating Pulse

To listen to an audio recital of the poem, click here

Like a nurse examining a patient

I touch the pulse
where the rock beats
meaning God

And I have sharpened the tooth of the dog
I have glittered with the glory of the hummingbird
I have sat in the sty of contentment
I have suffered the ecstasy of the animals

And I have touched the pulse where the rock beats
dipped my ankles in the turning ocean
when the tide ebbs
meaning God

And I have touched the pulse
in the bark of the cedar where it grows its rings
and in the sighing of the human heart
and in the blood-jet
meaning God

And I have touched
where the wound aches
where the lover moans
where the dead cry out
mother daughter sister wife
meaning God

And I have felt the snapping of the jaw
I have witnessed the culling of the bird
I have wallowed in the sty of discontent
I have suffered worse than any animal

Until the nurse
examining the patient
touches the stilled pulse
where the flesh is cold and dead as rock

and the silence whispers in the darkness
meaning God

You can find David Prashker at:

http://theargamanpress.com/
http://davidprashker.com/
http://davidprashker.net/
https://www.facebook.com/TheArgamanPress
http://davidprashkersprivatecollection.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkerssongsandpoems.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkersartgallery.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkersworldhourglass.blogspot.co.uk/
http://davidprashkersbookofdays.blogspot.co.uk/
http://thebiblenet.blogspot.co.uk/

The Argaman Press

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

First Genesis

"Which came first - the caterpillar or the butterfly?"

To listen to an audio recital of the poem, click here

In the beginning was the myth:
the red earth fashioned from the grey shore
the west wind that fanned the fire
the seven stars gathered round the moon’s orb
that burned
and smouldered
cleaving the night’s pitch darkness
into a white hot sun

In the beginning was the flame:
the white ash that settled on the red earth
the slick tongue that licked the darkness clean
the dense smoke eclipsing the moon’s brightness
that paled
and shrivelled
opening the sun’s first flower
in the blossom of the night’s clear dawn

In the beginning was the light:
the white pearls that floated in the clear pool
the still breeze that cooled the stars’ fury
the steel claw that crushed the morning’s shadow
and fell
and shattered
wrecking the moon’s lost voyage
into the increasing day

Hail Utu son of Inanna!
Hail Osiris son of Isis!
Hail Argaman son of Man!

Light that is born of darkness
day that is born of night
sun that is born of moon
world that is born of nothing -

all hail!

The Argaman Press

The Song of the Jealous Ones

To listen to an audio recital of the poem, click here

I looked at the sea

because the sea was beautiful
but the stars in the greenness of the sky complained

I looked at the stars

because the stars were beautiful
but the wisteria on its vine complained

I looked at the wisteria

because the flower was beautiful
but the paintings in the gallery complained

I looked at the nudes

because their breasts were beautiful
but the body of my wife complained

I looked at my wife

because my wife was beautiful
but the sunrise in the east complained

I looked at the sunrise

because the sky was beautiful
but the ikons in the church complained

I looked at the ikons

because gold is beautiful
but my lover in my arms complained

I looked at my lover

because she was beautiful
but jealousy itself complained

I looked at jealousy

to see if it was beautiful
but all the other vices in the world complained

I looked at all the vices

because they were beautiful
but the virtues

- somewhat unvirtuously

- complained

I looked at all the virtues

that were beautiful
but the coral in the greenness of the sea complained

So I dived down to the water’s depth
scratched my eyes out on the jagged coral

looked at the beauty of the darkness
underneath the waves

until the darkness uttered its complaint

You can find David Prashker at:
http://theargamanpress.com/
http://davidprashker.com/
http://davidprashker.net/
https://www.facebook.com/TheArgamanPress
http://davidprashkersprivatecollection.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkerssongsandpoems.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkersartgallery.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkersworldhourglass.blogspot.co.uk/
http://davidprashkersbookofdays.blogspot.co.uk/
http://thebiblenet.blogspot.co.uk/

The Argaman Press

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Lordy Lord

To listen to Lordy Lord, click here

This song takes the offensive about as far as one can unreasonably take the offensive, but still not so far as the ultimate offense, which is the act of committing evil and then passing on the blame, and your own cowardice in refusing to commit it, to others. My offense is merely the offense of satire.

Lordy Lord, I'm good as gold, Lordy Lord

Lordy Lord I'm good as gold

I'm just doing what I'm told

Lordy Lord I'm good as gold, Lordy Lord

Well they told me shoot a nigger, Lordy Lord

Yes they told me shoot a nigger, Lordy Lord

So I went and shot a nigger

All I did was pull the trigger