Has there ever been a person who lived between
then and now, not now and then?
Dreams do this to us.
Details and physics, waves and sand,
snow and rainbows,
the observable highs and the lows,
It was as though fine tuning each note
explains why we dance to the song.
Transportation becomes the Philosophers Steam,
traing thoughts by voice and vapors,
and such as smoking papers
and burnt nerves
on track.
There is a picture of Nietzsche,
reclined with his feet on an ottoman,
his hands clutch the lapel of his wool coat
sheepishly his lower lip grazes out in view.
The smile lines say libertine and it is sad,
not needing, for want thereof
last laugh and half mast and full bore.
Mercurial man with his playmates, pretty
little penultimate Plutonians
falling in and out of love like Spring.
He and she circumvent any obstacles
and asteroids
some times in line.
Delirium, therein they concluded,
the horse, of course, and inherent
potency of white Prague.
What does not kill you did not care
deeply enough to listen to the voices
and translate gagged passions
into fetters.
With a little apathy,
all complaints have been quelled.
This leaves room to travel.
Ape & essence, Super man, good beyond evil,
the power to will, the tragedy of birth,
where peacocks, buffaloes and Ecce Homos roam,
these were titles of poems
I believe in ideas and insomnia never sounded
more prophetic.
The past princes would say, we continue to be
pathetic plebes
living now and then, dwelling in then and
now manual means melancholy,
machines write programs in prose
and sign
every thing, Eternally,
Dionysus.
Image credit:
en: Friedrich Nietzsche. Photograph from the series „Der kranke
Nietzsche“ ("The ill Nietzsche") by Hans Olde, between June and
August 1899. Original at Goethe- und Schiller-Archiv Weimar, signature GSA
101/37.
Scan of a reprint in Benders/Oettermann
(ed.): Friedrich Nietzsche - Chronik in Bildern und Texten, Hanser / dtv 2000,
p. 806/7
