John Smithsonian (feat. Zygote)

Posted by Erik Moshe on Saturday, January 11, 2014 Under: Rhymed Verses


Daylight muzzles closely to a fertile female shadow land
stenciling the silicon landscape and its vast expanse
Mountain goats leap over fallen logs, bears eat fish from a stream
The tranquil breeze passing by your earlobes - is it a spirit or flea?
Feel nimble and free
Picking red giant apples from space time continuum tree
Take the trickling creeks, the deepest caverns, then the fumes of Jalalabad
Everything in life and in science has levels... including the habitat

The professor wasn't the cleverest of learned men...

His scientific career had already passed through the has-been door
Clad in torn clothes, feathers in his cap flapped, he carried raptor claws
He married Katherine, stormed down the aisle and a sadness formed
because he missed the secret contraptions, glyphs & ancient glass décor
Several licks from his Labrador was the only way he was a lad adored
Too drab, a chortled Atkins hoarder - it kept malnutrition out the door
Women came and went, chalk up Mother Earth if he felt any lust
enthused by the bosom of tectonics, the continental shelf was his love
He undertook a journey to the center of the urge...he'd felt in his gut
A non-religious man, "the only cross I behold is the firewood kept in my ruck"
Wrote in his notebook nearly every evening. You know, elegant stuff.

like

"Majestic surroundings do exist, if open minds corroborate
Deep underground where white coats notarize the Mongol apes
Plateaus pancake but Odin won't provide the sauce or crepes
Children line up for stalactite soup on the swollen side of Nazca Lakes
Even though most surmise and postulate about man's origins
The coastal tribes of sovereign states demand storage bins
It's more culture than religion - from Sheba to Krishna
I sought purpose, not permission in seeking a seasonal mitzvah
Demolitions teams drove Jeeps with ballista's
Seeking a meaning to a secret enigma.
Bleed from the stigma, nailed psalms and songs of praise,
Running endlessly in a prayer wheel along this Karmic race,
From a place where faith is stored in dogma’s grave,
I stretch out and rest across this conscious space.”

He wrote of his Greek and Turkish heritage,

“All these sterile environments resemble sedimentary rock,
Forming experimental conditions before electrical shock,
Behind the iron curtain of an academical bloc,
Demagogues mock and observe through the spherical fog,
Ad hoc epilogues stop like an Ecumenical Patriarch in a Byzantine basilica,
Overlooking Suleiman's mosque perched upon the Gallipoli peninsula.
They fought Janissary corps of the Ottoman state across the Anatolian plains,
The Greek empire stretched from Napoli to Vaspurakan’s gates,
Where they bordered the horsemen of the Mongolian race,
The mighty Ilkhanate was stopped at the Dardanelle straits by Alexios Komnenos the Great.
In the household we speak Turkish, English and Greek,
English for business, Turkish for family and Greek for the different people we meet."

With Katherine his best friend, an Orthodox woman who found refuge in silence,
He thought both Muslim and Orthodox Christian positions ended in sectarian violence,
Agnostic but anti-religious, he was unsure of God but certain with method and science,
Led through his life by an inquisitive nature and a questioning guidance.

He wrote of his love for walking,

“Concentrate a few steps ahead along each different natural track,
Watch the ground in front, the dry soil, the small fissures and cracks.
I treat it like a spiritual experience, majestic surroundings abound,
Every now and again I stop to look around and take in the sights and the sounds.
Listen to the choir of insects and soloist crows, punctuated by the peace and the quiet,
Feeling the climate, animal Kingdom emissaries meeting in private."

He slept at systematic intervals during his long journeys,

Limestone was his bedpost, Templar sleeping chambers under a frozen bridge
'cause apparently the Pope liked to cool off and get his colon cleansed
"So I've heard of a golden sphinx..." was how he'd speak to his affiliates
In his mind, he was not a man, not Greek nor a Brazilian
He was a grain of sand, a living hypothesis on the beaches of Mauritius

In : Rhymed Verses 



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