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CONCEPTS OF UNITY Unpublished verse by P.A.M. Rogers

MUNDANE ARCANE

Long and slender/ needles of fine steel/ are symbols of another way./ One Master inserts two tips/ through the eye of a third.../ voila, a Chinese dowsing-rod/ to find the leaking point./ Another reads the pulses,/ with sorcerer's intent,/ or reads the tongue/ to find the locus/ of the block. A third simply feels/ above the horse's hooves/ for watery holes. He nods/ when his finger drowns/ in Sandefjord.

In her sanctum/ an adept gazes/ at crystal fire./ The prayer dream/ grows, water-cries/ and claws for birth./ In the next village,/ the cripple, laughing madly,/ walks.

REVOLT AND GOVERNMEN

THE CIRCLE (Yin-Yang)
Two fish fill the circle./ Lovers circle and clinch/ and fall into the circle./ A tireless snake/ swallows its tail./ Where is the rattle, the venom ?/ Hidden away as potential energy/ to please the child or put/ the demented out of misery ?

Atoms and universes show/ the power of revolution/ and Einstein proclaimed/ ex cathedra the dogma/ of the unity of matter and energy./ So to infinity are the Word, the Flesh/ and the Light interchangeable./ Nothing is lost, nothing gained/ in the endless cosmic dance./ Hexagrams from ancient yarrow sticks/ or from random number generators/ point the ultimate reality :/ change is the source and end of all/ change is revolution !/ Wheels roll on ; all is change/ and nothing changes anyway.

THE STAR (THE FIVE PHASES)
The inner calm, the balance/ between atoms and the universe,/ the hidden seabed and the clouded peak,/ the human states, the blues, the joys,/ lie in the circle around the star.

The tips of the Five Point Star/ sow seeds of revolt and government./ As fire begets the ash of earth,/ Earth-mother births her shining/ and so around the clockwise wheel/ the change brings life and growth/ and death. The wheel and pentagram roll on,/ Government and revolution live in harmony./ As water controls fire,/ fear controls desire

but if water overheats,/ fire rebels, attacks,/ turning it to steam/ and desire flares, then flickers out./ So are all the elemental attributes controlled/ in flux. Creation and destruction/ vie as equals in the turning wheel./ Nuclei disintegrate. Nuclei fuse./ Seal-pups clubbed to death ; a V of swans in flight./ Did Einstein get his calculations right ... ?

BRUSH STROKES ON A CANVAS

Jagged crag, what is your need ?/ To lose my stoneness in beauty,/ avalanche, granite-chipped, myriad shaped,/ mica glistened, marble streaked,/ thunder down into the shrouded valley.

Empty valley, what is your need ?/ To be seeded with sound, colour, form,/ swell the senses, mind to consciousness,/ flood my fullness up my fertile slopes,/ overflow to other empty craters.

Crag and valley fuse, explode,/ disintegrate, reform to emptiness and stone again./ The canvas satisfies the painter's eye/ and palette, brushes, paint/ sleep the easel sleep of waiting.

UNIVERSES REFLECTE

FLOW
Two lifeless planets, coldly orbiting,/ attracted and repelled in silent dance/ around two lonely suns, hurtle onward

with their suns through nothingness,/ collide with a sixteen-pointed star,/ cruising too hungrily to enter Eden.

Blueprinted by a thirsty Architect,/ eighteen sparkling planets realign./ We have ignition ! H2O is formed.

The flow is fierce, the tides are strong./ The Artist claps in glee/ as the seething sea pounds puffing holes.

From its heavings, from its froth,/ live erupts unstoppable.

EBB
Sea-sculpted from Easky shale,/ pools at the high-tide mark/ swirl, dart- twisted by stranded fish,/ their water of life break-dancing to elemental rhythms. Salty source/ and final leveller of seer and fool,/ sea-fields grassed with bubble-weed and wrack,/ sliding ruin of the careless foot.

Mines of gold and silver flashes,/ crab and shrimp, joy of urchins/ dangling threads for treasures/ and the treasures released unharmed.

Winkles, algae, plankton/ teem in landlocked space-time./ Birth-grunts of dinosaurs imprint/ on cliffs and human stains dissolve in salt-spray. Water-born lifetimes/ of centuries, years, seconds,/ riff the surface, sink/ like skipping-stones/ but mirrors reflect the user/ and images of glory reappear.

ON THE 37th ANNIVERSARY OF THE FOUNDING OF THE PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF CHINA

Ming Ming and Ping Ping were gone/ but over the well-trimmed Embassy lawn,/ echoed the crunching of bamboo on skulls./ Kaleidoscopes of bamboo-shoots, green and tender/ and dissident shoots, scarlet and brutalised/ floated in the air against a sea of blood/ and righteous bullets./ Feudal lords, sated/ and peasants ground to poverty and blank despair/ whispered from the Ballsbridge trees./ Sweat dripped from heat-struck oxen./ Terrible diseases fought each other/ to be first in the land./ A rapist laughed as he buttoned up/ but his mouth became a giant O/ as his severed head was shown to the crowd./ More warriors clashed among the flowers/ before they petrified. The unlucky ones/ lost their arms in a Dublin hospital/ but the arm of Wu Song-Fook,/ severed by an unguarded band-saw,/ was replanted to his living trunk/ by a macro-team of microsurgeons/ in a Shanghai hospital./

Opium the religion of the people no more./ The opiate receptors, deep in the brain,/ now explain the potency/ of tiny needles in the skin./ Miracles of ancient sciences,/ the needles, moxa, herbs,/ help the hopeless cases./ The soldier, paralysed by a stroke,/ drives again the army truck./ The polio child walks without her braces,/ which recycle endlessly./ The dumb speak./ Miracles of our science/ irrigate the fields, yield four crops/ of living rice. And paddyfields yield/ fish and ducks and not a Paddy poacher to be seen./

We try to understand but fail,/ our superior politeness wearing thin./ Chinese fiddles and strings/ create their weird cacophonies,/ background to the high-pitched and bass/ voices of the Beijing Opera./ The artists move as if on strings themselves./ Are they mindless marionettes/ or experts far beyond our dreams ?/ We strain to catch the meanings/ where there are none for us./ Twirling his fourth glass of wine,/ a shrewd observer mutters/ that it is all above him./ Good on you mate-/ there are others less perceptive!/

The gulf of comprehension narrows/ slightly when we realise/ the discipline and method/ behind the sounds and movements./ Control, control ! A game of mastery/ with different rules and codes from ours./ The dawning as the black eyes smile/ into the puzzled blue :/ THEY are Chinese. They are CHINESE./ This is their way, perfect in its form/ and execution.

More images mirage on the lawn./ Slender women run on unbound feet,/ free and equal with their men ;/ laughing children point at the bearded ones ;/ workers meditating at the factory lathe ;/ Tai Ch'i in the streets,/ control of mind and body,/ bees in the hive where there is no queen ;/ one thousand million on the march to peace ;/ a flawless pearl, sand-itched from the Yellow River -/ love, respect, morality and strength,/ a fearsome combination, backed by boundless hope./

To the next thirty-seven years/ and their kaleidoscopic clones,/ Kampe ! Kampe, Ambassador !/ Between our heres and there 's a bridge is built/ but treat your rebels without guilt !

RIVER SCENE

The ferryman spent his days/ poling people to and fro./ Monks and merchants, poor and rich/ passed their hurried way,/ missing the ferryman's wink/ and the banyan tree.

Content in the banyan shade,/ sat a hardened Buddhist monk/ remembering his debauched youth,/ a youth of silk and softness,/ perfumes, musk and wine./ All his urgent needs were met./ Nothing needed now/ but the river's confidence/ and its womb-like murmuring.

River, your questions ?/ What sought you of the burning eyes, excited face ?/ To know the unknown./ What sought you of the burnt-out eyes and ashen face ?/ To unknow the known./ What is the time between your coming and your going ?/ A wasted lifetime./ Return to the watery peace from whence you came !

The monk caught the ferryman's wink -/ they knew the river's age and of its wisdom./ What is the answer, river ?/ Monk and ferryman, hear me well !/ You must choose your heaven and hell./ Now is the time to live or die./ Now is the time to laugh or cry,/ fast or eat, wake or sleep./ Now is the time of knowing.

Virgin to the bed of shame,/ foetus on the draining-board,/ soldier in the sights,/ death of a loved child -/ there is no going back./ Unknowing is the dark finality./ Be, my friends ! Just be/ or choose and be done with questions.

VIVE LA DIFFERENCE

US
He wears last-year's baggy pants,/ discordant jacket, any shirt./ She disapproves in her aesthetic agony./ She sees herself a queen in seamless silk./ He sees the price in coolie's sweat.

She sees red flowers, pearled with dew./ He sees the thorns, the horse manure./ She is pricked as she captures her dream./ He ignores the perfume/ as he digs their common grave/ in the shadow of the unseen rose.

She of the spirit, he of the flesh/ at the middle time of life/ live a charade/ unless they understand the wheel/ and compromise.

THEM
"Vive la difference !" some say,/ as if the fact is static./ But I wonder about wheels and rhythms,/ cycles turning.

The adult male is hard,/ his softness locked away/ by the evidence of his witnesses/ until, at sixty-five or so,/ the witnesses withdraw the evidence,/ springing softness from its prison./ The ripe female is soft,/ her hardness camouflaged by egg-stuff/ until the ova yield to menopause./ Hormonal brake released, she grows a beard/ and talks bass tones.

Testosterone and oestrogen, the fighting twins,/ secreted from the same cells in the embryo,/ compete for sexual expression/ in body and in mind./ The different responses are statistically significant,/ programmed parts of our humanity./ Brutality responds to nature's nudge/ but all things pass in time./ C'est la vie !

JACK AND MARY SPRATT

For fifty years they shared a home/ whose solid walls absorbed/ the joy and hate, laughter/ and the sound of grinding teeth./ Their bioclocks were three hours out of phase -/ best times for both were rare./ Although they died three years apart,/ their coffins touch.

Her life was spotless,/ regulated by strict rules./ Her dream was changelessness,/ defying seething tides of change./ He lived undisciplined,/ driven by escapist dreams/ to change the world,/ yet sure that nothing changes./ She was rooted in the earth and things,/ but sometimes soared./ He hawked the air on flimsy wings/ and plummeted to earth for meat./ They orbited between the earth and stars/ and nodded in greeting/ when their orbits crossed.

Neighbours heard their squabbles/ frequently./ The travelling woman called on Saturdays/ religiously./ They ate the bread of life together/ occasionally,/ made calm-eyed children/ accidentally/ and nurtured them/ instinctively./ At night, together but apart/ they dreamed and sighed. When clay was thrown down on them/ and the old priest intoned for them/ great crowds wept for them/ knowing/ how much they loved each other/unknowingly.

LET THE STUDENT BEWARE

TRUTH
I show you nature through my eyes/ but you must cast away my truths,/ unless your own experience/ should drift with mine/ as grappled boats, lost/ in the ghostly fog/ which scientists call truth.

You must reach and trap the fog/ in baby's hands. Call it your truth./ But, if you dare to chink your hands,/ be quick to look ! Some truths/ can last no longer than the dew at noon/ nor than the lightning bolt/ that streaks to earth in June.

The thought of truth as absolute/ provokes me to irate invective !/ The nearest thing to objective truth/ is the death of the unconceived./ The fool who knows she is a fool is not./ The sage who thinks he is a sage is not.

BEWARE
Like digging moles, your eager minds/ probed for slugs of knowledge hidden/ in the humus of half truths./ Your search is tonic to our jaded souls./ You drank my rehashed notes/ as if your thirst could not be slaked/ and bolted my cliched words,/ then licked with relish from my fingertips/ small crumbs of my truths./ You stomached them in your spring-bound books,/ to ruminate on, quietly/ pelleting your truth.

I loved you then for I'm a student too !/ Beware !

THEN WHAT?

...CONTINUE (QUESTIONS)...