Golden Age of the Absurd

Pray make me want to be a product of my environment around these ol’ mountains. They built me up so I may stand before them today, profess my weakness feeling peace in my breath and brain-beat, and with rugged belief, declare them cast into the sea. Cold tops, warm tip and I am free to make myself beautiful in all tongues and eyes again, and Salinger’s Seymour is my brother and John of the Cross a deeper-than-carnal lover and I used to want to change the world but now I say leave it in its pied perfection for the coming generations to love and hate and love again, and in saying so, I fulfill both dreams. Abundance for all under heaven.

There are one hundred and eight things I love about the self: how I chose to feel every sensation that I may share the suffering and the joy of the cosmos. I love how I can sit like a vegetable yet through the pen-portal, share the fruit growing from the trees in the orchard. I have taught myself to time travel by listening, can walk invisibly at high noon, eat bitter and sweet without succumbing to a cannibalistic nature. I sing odes to the moon and to the sun, love to pray and pray to love, Schubert for aperitif and tomorrow it’s Tupac; strong, quiet, radiant face and the fun of the secret society that is the beloved pilgrim church on earth, life of the seasons and then beyond them, black love is real love, “the old red carpet is out.” How I love my brothers and sisters who speak to me, how I trust, self-centeredness as a divine symbol and nothing more, the sharp sword, the expanding core, the little helper who mixes concrete, my smile in the light.

The gospel-according-to-the-horoscope said to make plans tonight, but instead I write this, a proclamation of “Generation Y-bother,” enlightened in the golden age of the absurd.

2011, Amaya Engleking



  1. Visionariekind · October 11, 2016

    so regal and beautiful

  2. bmickhugh · October 26, 2016

    To quote ts eliot:
    “Do I dare
    Disturb the Universe?
    In a minute there is time
    For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.”

    It gets more and more difficult to argue Why Bother.

    • Gospel Isosceles · November 14, 2016

      I’ve spent most of my life in fear, or yes, perhaps apathy of ‘disturbing the universe’ but I also have gotten the cue from God to go ahead and dip my toe into the pond, make a ripple, even splash around if the moment’s right. I guess that’s what these writings are. Stay tuned, tomorrow morning my poem opens with an Eliot line. I appreciate your comment sincerely.

  3. meltingneuronstoink · November 23, 2016

    Interesting stuff my friend. Enjoying your not headily religious take on the spirit.

    • Gospel Isosceles · December 2, 2016

      Haha, the spirit has nothing to do with religion, friend. Thanks for reading:)

  4. frankhubeny · March 2, 2017

    This sentence stood out for me: “I love how I can sit like a vegetable yet through the pen-portal, share the fruit growing from the trees in the orchard.” I am glad you wrote this instead of making plans. Best wishes.

  5. Beverly Crawford · March 2, 2017

    Much to hold onto here, but that last line is brilliant!

  6. Björn Rudberg (brudberg) · March 2, 2017

    I love how you have used the contrasts here, the love and hate, Schubert and Tupac… no we cannot change a thing, just let time flow around us…

  7. Jane Dougherty · March 3, 2017

    Why one hundred and eight things? I’m intrigued. Does it have symbolic importance? Such a lot going on in this poem. I particularly liked ‘I have taught myself to time travel by listening,’ —wish I could 🙂

  8. hypercryptical · March 3, 2017

    I love this. It is poetry indeed!
    Anna :o]

  9. Walter J. Wojtanik · March 3, 2017

    Extraordinary piece, Amaya! Many wonderful visions presented here!

  10. Rosemary Nissen-Wade · March 4, 2017

    This reads like a wonderful stream-of-consciousness. but I suspect it is highly crafted to produce such an effect..

    • Gospel Isosceles · March 4, 2017

      Your observation is much appreciated, Rosemary, as I love to read stream-of-consciousness-style prose.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s