The Poetry of Consciousness
Meandering reflection on the nature of expanded consciousness and psychedelics.
my experience in my early use of psychedelics was that my arrival to the infinite moment at the true core of ‘normal’ reality is that the experience of the fact of eternity made it (nearly), impossible to reintegrate myself into this new insight and wisdom with the rest of my life.
I could not deny the truth of my experience but at the same time could not reconcile this new-found truth with the lies I was still living.
And dedperately holding onto.
The attachment to my ego, to my self delusion proved so robust that it was only through taking higher and higher doses of psychedelics that I could try an recapture “that truth”.
In fact, as Ram Dass says, my attachment to trying to repeat a past experience is what prevented me from returning to the bery present moment where eternity is resting in plain site, all the while.
Life can be such a disappointment when expectation and self-obsession are undermined by reality. And the Truth!
The Truth is an otphan no one wants to know.
My self torture was compounded by my ego sense of self manifesting as an investment in my intellect; so that the insights I gained became “my insights”, my perceptions, my increased genius, rather than simply being able to see the same truth available to anyone, anytime they are willing to pay attention.
These are painful memories of a long, drawn out ego death. A casualty of Enlightenment.
It has only been more recently, in the past 15-20 years that I have been able to bridge the universal and the particular through language, specifically poetry which utilizes words as ‘deep drilling’ to the very heart of meaning.
The main vein of Existence: the understanding of why and what we are here for: like a dog without a bone.
This is a different use of language, which particularly American English which is reserved more for transactional values, market values that actual meaningfullness. We either inform or we are informed, we swap information with words.
Like chips at a semantic poker table.
Proper English makes better use of the musicality, wit and word play imbedded in older English. Proper English is more playful and better disposed towards poetry because it is less utilitarian than American English. Latin languages especially, are resplendent with the poetry of meaning in their sounds.
Although I sometimes write in French or Spanish (my actual native tongue), the task that I’ve set for myself is to subvert the transactional, mercenary basis of contemporary American English by excavating its musicality in rhythm and cadence.
Drawing on influences like the Blues, Baptist preachers and most of all Bob Dylan, I’m finding some success in achieving a revealment of American English’s more poetic resonances and veil.
Dangerous Woman
I like this poem, so I’m posting it again hoping it might attract some nearby friendly she-wolf, howling at the same moon!
Poised on the end of the couch hugging a pillow,
She crouches in the center of her den.
The She Wolf laughs and shows me her teeth
Just in case I hadn’t previously noticed them,
When I first walked into her space…
Seeking shelter from my private storms
of deadly sunshine and circumstances.
Her eyes assess me with a playful indifference,
She casually tosses her shaggy dark mane.
As if to say, “Go ahead, try and pet me;
If you have no further use for your hands”.
I assume that she needs no male for paternal protection.
So I sit and I read her poetry, instead of fleeing…
The sight of dried blood on her coat,
In the vague hopes that my painted words will quell the risk of instinctual savagery.
I try to make friends with her teeth and soothe her worried brow.
“Look, I’m a lone wolf too”
So, as if to prove the point, I howl at the moon and the
Diamond stars above us.
Outside the cave of my rising desire’s expectation.
I let the moon consume my aimless thoughts of senseless direction.
This seductress has already seduced me
With the arch of her haunches and her scent of bare-tooth savagery
The she-wolf cackles in delight at my wary fascination.
I try to remain calm, still, and open like a book.
I do want to be read by her, but gently, fondly, tenderly.
Lest she succumb to her bone-instinct and devour me!
ORDER: FACING the WAVES: Transforming Political Chaos With Art
The project is scheduled for release this MAY. It includes a deluxe limited edition hardcover. There is also a 14-track album featuring original music and spoken word. Additionally, there is a signed limited art print of the cover illustration by renowned Scandinavian surrealist painter Katarina Anderssen.
PRE-ORDER NOW BEFORE TRUMP IMPOSES A TARIFF ON ART ! ! !
All music composed and performed by Gilad Atzmon
Words Composed by Igor Goldkind
All work is Copyright 2025, Igor Goldkind, Katarian Andersson and Gilad Atzmon
igorgoldkind
FACING the WAVES
Share & Disseminate This With Your Friends
Like this:
March 29, 2025 | Categories: books, comments about poetry, death, Existentialism, Igor Goldkind, Illustrated books, jazz, literature, Meaning of Existence, Meditations, Mindfulness, new poetry, poetry, Poetry Therapy, Self-Therapy, sex, spoken word, Transmedia, Transmedia. multimedia, Uncategorized, world jazz music | Tags: consciousness expansion, Existence, Existential, Igor Goldkind, Jazz, literature, Love Poetry, philosophy, Poem, Poetry Therapy, Self, Spoken Word | Leave a comment