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The Trembling Tear: Songs of the Inner Voice
The Trembling Tear: Songs of the Inner Voice
The Trembling Tear: Songs of the Inner Voice
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The Trembling Tear: Songs of the Inner Voice

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This is a collection of 35 poems about personal spiritual struggle, counter-cultural political struggle, whimsy, myth and Spirit. Don’t look for soulful prose-like poetry evoking the “glories” of the mundane and the ordinary. These poems demand engagement from your deep awareness and will pull you into an interior world where connections are made in non-linear fashion and emotions have no name.

The poems are composed in a variety of forms and styles—metered and unrhymed, structured unmetered, mixed meter, visually constructed, and even metered and rhymed. Poems vary from a simple stanza to a seven-part minor epic. The poems move from symbolism, to allegory, to existential anguish and remorse, to ecstasy and bliss. All are incredibly rich in imagery and meaning.

Most of these poems were penned from 1987 to 1996 during a period of my life when poetry fulfilled a deep felt need for self-expression. There are a few short “postscripts” from 2015. Looking back, with slight editing, these poems have stood my own test of time.

It is my hope that you not only enjoy these poems but that they lead you into your own interior, imaginal world. -- Gargatholil

LanguageEnglish
PublisherGargatholil
Release dateMar 24, 2016
ISBN9781310829314
The Trembling Tear: Songs of the Inner Voice
Author

Gargatholil

Gargatholil's interest in astrology began more than 40 years ago with his discovery of the works of Dane Rudhyar and Alan Leo. Their love of music goes back farther. One of the first albums Gargatholil bought was Freewheelin' Bob Dylan.In the 1980s, Gargatholil;s knowledge of astrology was further informed by the writing of Donna Cunningham, Stephen Arroyo and Liz Greene. Gargatholil has always appreciated astrology as a tool for self-knowledge and personal growth. He believes, while transits may be valuable for understanding the "astrol weather" one is experiencing, it is the natal chart that holds the key to interpreting the drives and motivations, qualities, internal conflicts and challenges, and potential of the personality resident in this lifetime. Gargatholil has long rejected using astrology to attempt to predict the future on both practical and spiritual grounds.Gargatholil has a Libra Sun and Taurus Ascendant (both ruled by Venus), with Moon in Capricorn in the tenth house (both ruled by Saturn) cusp Aquarius (ruled by Uranus). The primary rulers of Gargatholil's chart, Venus and Saturn, are conjunct in Virgo, while the Moon forms the point of a Yod to Saturn and Uranus. Understandably, Gargatholil has a straight gig and does not wish his identity to be revealed. He also is grateful to have been blessed with the capacity to bring the content of the Higher Mind to a more concrete and structured level.Gargatholil has eclectic taste in music. His criteria for considering something worthwhile listening to boils down to "as long as she's been doin' it right." Gargatholil lived the Sixties Countercultural experience and the music of that era occupies a special place in their heart.

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    Book preview

    The Trembling Tear - Gargatholil

    THE TREMBLING TEAR

    a Collection of Poems

    by

    Gargatholil

    1985-1997

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Table of Contents

    My Poetry

    Songs of Personal Struggle

    Thoughts on the Road

    The [Existential] Hero’s Travail

    Ages

    Heroes

    The Tolling

    The Seafarer

    Meditation While Walking in the City at Dusk

    The Human Level

    Meditation Inspired by a Woman Choosing Eyeglass Frames

    Dissonance

    To Stand As If Naked in the Cleansing Breeze

    Repentance

    Songs of Political Struggle

    Cold Shadow of Fear

    20th Century Unreal

    In Remembrance of Earth Day

    Earth Water Air Fire, or An Ode on the 500th Anniversary of the Discovery of the Americas

    Callings

    1969

    Songs of Whimsy and Miscellanea

    Columbia

    I Am a Human Be-In

    A Wedding Present

    Songs of Myth and Spirit

    Litany: Innocence

    Litany: Experience

    Dameon, Eveleon (An Astral Fantasy)

    The Pang of the Lost Dream

    Prologue

    The Tale of the Lost Prince (an ancient archetypal fable)

    Mathematica

    Secrets

    The Choice

    Lawn and Garden

    Psssst!

    P.S. to My New Age Ideological Friends Across the Aisle

    On Reading My Poetry

    My Poetry

    by Gargatholil

    O Father, forgive my sin of arrogance,

    for I know what I do.

    Write not!

    the modern muses of acceptability pronounce,

    "Of that which is not yours…..

    your life,

    your lovers,

    your senses,

    your boyhood memories—

    these alone are sanctified."

    I violate.

    Crucify me.

    I am an Alien,

    home to the Universe

    though shackled to the Earth.

    The Earth is rich

    in ventures, sagas, scenery, sounds.

    Modern man conceives that this

    is all;

    Some center in humanity,

    others bind Los

    with power, money, order.

    Not That. Not That.

    Richer is

    the Land of unboundedness.

    Let others pour their personal tale, flavored

    with universal touch and taste and sympathy;

    I will sing of that which is inaccessible,

    which weaves us all as One in places

    too deep to touch.

    -- 1991

    SONGS OF PERSONAL

    STRUGGLE

    Thoughts on the Road

    by Gargatholil

    The Summit.

    The strengthening rush of wind,

    free and laughing,

    delighting in knowing play with th’resisting Mountain—

    an embrace, a Platonic game of elemental companionship.

    The clear and awesome space of Light expanding

    into echo and echo of blue

    till material awareness lightly weighs like gossamer floating;

    Yet each sharp molecule is seen shimmering in brilliant exhalation of the Light.

    How different

    the dark malodorous swamp paths

    from which the Mountain rises, bulky and hard,

    Its awkward obstructions menacing futher trespass against its stony, rugged places;

    Where slime and briar and pit conspire

    and phantom laughter rings

    in dark enchantments to burst naked and unexpected;

    Where countless rabbits in neat, dry burrows nibble complacently

    as marsh grasses creep up invitingly from small safe islands.

    Beware! O Traveler, Beware!

    How many long-legged journeyers stride

    with gaze fixed upon the Summit

    and feet stumbling heedlessly through the sucking muck;

    With Vision transfixed in some half-glimpsed fugue—

    Eternal, Divine, blindingly intoxicating?

    Unaware the mud, the stains on rags,

    the cries of rabbits—tidy nests scattered, knocked flat by driven feet?

    He is blinded by his Quest, frozen with yearning.

    Unaware.

    Or, not quite.

    A tormenting shadow flickers through crystal images,

    its mocking leather wings beating a whispered echo of

    Je m’accuse. Je m’accuse.

    A horrid little hoary monster creeping out from reality’s dungeons

    sits devouring life-essence

    as it drips down despairing.

    All underground. All underground.

    And in the plain, gray afternoon light,

    Not so monstrous—

    Only

    Tepid and fitful and tired.

    In our bewildered comtemplation of the mirrored portrait panel—

    the time we know is past whose pangs yet claim the present;

    the present we know will be past

    and likewise viewed naked through a coloured stone—

    How cast we this player in our heart?

    The Pilgrim with heart contrite,

    carrying the burden of his worldly frailties and oft seduced

    by Maya’s snares?

    The Fool, strutting

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