Sacred Slam Poetry

How Poetry and Meditation Can Save America From Fundamentalism

Part 1: Poetry

The U.S.A. has become a land of literalism and fundamentalism. You must have noticed. I saw you across the street yesterday, but didn't say hello because we both seemed to be in a hurry. But I was gonna say-- A nation ignorant of metaphor and poetics. That's what we've become, really. The church and the government move closer and closer together under the flag of non-creativity. Our children have become black belts, world travelers, and mountain climbers-- but only in video games. We hear talk about the depleted environment-- dying farms, dry lands-- but this is just a reflection of the state of our imagination. The country-- the dirt, the roads, the streets and highways have come to mirror the condition of our mind. As we as people have become more tired, less flexible, easier to agitate, unable to see outside the T.V. box, the dirt of our country has become more gravely, the roads have become more jagged, the streets- the very sidewalks- are more arduous, have lost their sleekness, and the highways-- they go nowhere more than ever. They go to fast food cathedrals and dynamite dealers and casino castles and gun sellers and magazine-soda halls. These are the only places promised, exit after exit. It gets to the point where it's easy to forget Benjamin Franklin and that our nation was founded on lightning. Founded on going out into storms with a key and kite.

Of course, Bush and many others in power want the American people to stay in during storms. They want us to stay in and know that we are being protected. But what are we being protected from exactly? Our fairy tales have been homogenized and whitewashed into soapy nothingness. The witch has lost her fangs and nails, for our protection. Our past has been altered and edited. Jackson Pollock's cigarette has been airbrushed out, for our protection. Our live broadcasts have been put on five second delay. Nudity will never be seen again on a major network, for our protection. And in many ways, if we don't want to stay in during storms(and there is a storm happening right now) the government has ways of making us stay inside. But not really they don't. Not if we look deeply at what it means to go outside. In order to overthrow a fundamentalist and unartistic government, one must be metaphorical, inventive, and peering. One must not just see things as flat and take fact for fact, and limit for limit. Every time we do so, we add another layer of lie to our national atmosphere. No, in order to really take on a fundamentalist assembly, we have to enter the land of poetry. Oh- Poetry, what use could Poetry have now? Poetry like old men with beards and sonnets and curled shoe toes and bell necklaces and turtlenecks and chess cafes and love odes? Well, naw, not really. It's funny how poetry has become this sort of feminine, gay, wimpy word to modern American. Else it brings up images of Sylvia Plath's head in an oven, or Emily Dickinson's closed door, and other bizarre eccentric activities of the like. There's a terrific stigma around poetry these days in the U.S. of A, like no time ever before. Even in the supposed conformed and confined climate of the pre-hippie sixties, there was at least enough respect for poetry in America that J.F.K. closed his eyes and listened when Robert Frost spoke. But somewhere along the line, in one of those steroid-fueled Monday Night Football games it mighta been, poetry's reputation became the distinct stomping ground of ballerinas. Even in the school systems, poetry has slowly been left out of the picture. And the shame of it is not so much that Whitman will be left unread, but that in the not reading of poetry
books, it will be hard for us as a nation to realize that poetry isn't just in books. That poetry isn't really about words at all.

Fundamentalism doesn't mean plain thusness and poetry doesn't mean beautifying or adding to. Rather, fundamentalism is not at all seeing things as they really are and poetry is not at all some sort of extra sheen upon the landscape. Fundamentalism is taking a heart beat and making it into a statistic on a chart, and then denying the actual heart itself, only pointing to the chart. Fundamentalism is reading a story and thinking that the story actually happened, rather than that the story is a streamlined version of the sky and pointing to greater realities of a universe where there is no story at all. Fundamentalism is taking the teachings of Christ and not understanding that Christ was a poet, the Bible-- just a good book of similitude. Poetry is seeing directly into essential nature by going beyond the rational into the place of body experience, sensory awareness, mind acceptance, and life-death breath. Poetry's nothing sacred or particularly pretty or sweet. Poetry is non-dualistic, even when it is dualistic. Poetry is independent and untouchable of the control of the central government. Imperial power has no authority whatsoever over poetry. While fundamentalism saps out the water and liquid and color of our mind making it hard and depressed and fearful of storms, poetry makes the mind wet and soft and dark and fluid and strong and shifting constantly in shape/size/proportion. The mind becomes the eye of the storm. What does the center of a hurricane have to fear? To be a fundamentalist, one simply
needs a mixture of dread, laziness, self-clinging, and hallucination. To be a poet, one needs relentless spirituality, ascetic discipline, compassionate tolerance, and detached forgiveness. It's easy to see why many are going with fundamentalism these days. More potato chips.

Where does fundamentalism come from? It comes from the absolute terror of mystery and change. Fundamentalism is the period at the end of a sentence. And then it's the holding on to that period. There are so many reasons for those in power to be fundamentalists. The main one being that they are in power, but only fundamentally. In the fundamental world they are on top. In the poetic world, there is no top. Also, if they can somehow nail everything down and stop all wildness, then they can tell themselves there is no wildness, and in their fantasies, that wildness inside of them that they're so scared of, will die. Of course, in reality, it can't die. It's the universe. But the goal of fundamentalism is to manipulate the universe into a commercial. It's to take something raw, and make it into something
easily swallowed. There is never any peace in fundamentalism because it is intrinsically manipulative and unable to let things be as they are. There is a constant fighting with nature, because fundamentalism is scared that we're all just a bunch of aliens in the middle of outer space. Human being has been fundamentalized into suit and tie, Friends sitcom, white teeth, fitness, bra, shampoo, and clipped nails. But human beings are evolving, and what we're evolving into is something more like E.T. than the Marlboro Man. Again, fundamentalism doesn't like this very much. It pumps in John
Wayne and Playboy Bunnies just in case we start thinking about moving past our small identities of man/woman/white/black/old/young/person/self/name--into other realms of poetic, big mind. Illegal Alien mind, if you will.

In poetry there is the means of seeing what's really happening now in America. To see that the awful powers that be are actually our very own nightmares dragged into daylight and not separate from us in the slightest. To see that our President's violent actions are simply the budding of our own communal bad dream, our national horror vision made three-dimensional and physical. To see it's all the product of an unstretched muscle, unfed third eye, athlete gone soft, hesitation, knowing and then not doing.
It's the non-entrance into the storm that makes for terror. If there are terrorists- they are only the result of a million eyes turning away, or looking past. Poetry allows us to see that war is the deaf ear to the thunder in the sky. It's the locked door. The shut off neighbor. The ready gun. The tense shoulders. The car alarm. The fake caffeine energy, the dark sun glasses, the polished photograph, the craving pop song, the drunken sleepiness, the complete rationality, the rejection of insanity, the casting away of illness, the hiding of death, the pretend kindness, the glorified quarterback, the fake lovers, the do-good charities, the forgotten vagabond, the cocaine epiphany, the pretty movie, the newspaper boxed reality, the silent death, the jailed and muted killers, the zoo'd tiger. War only happens when nature's storm is being ignored. The more we deny the storm, the more war will come our way. The more lipstick we wear, the more blood will be shed.

To protest war isn't gonna get the job done. Protest, in fact, is war. Feeds war. Creates more war. Only when we embrace war will war lose it's power. Only when we see that war is our body's own defensiveness, our very own body's lack of openness-- will war lose it's hold on our country. It would be nice to believe that it was so easy as protesting. But it was protesting that started all this in the first place. Protesting all the things we don't like. Protesting a certain flavor, person, government, political view. Through poetry we can see our likes and dislikes for what they are-- delusions. As our opinions fall away and we realize that all flavors taste the same, and all scents smell the same, and all phenomenon look the same, and all noises sound the same, and all contact feels the same, and all words are the same, all faces are the same, all countries are the same, all worlds are the same-- then we find the place of no resistance, no objection. And in our surrender to our surroundings, by letting our surroundings change us, our surroundings are changed. As we drop down into the streets with our open hearts, the streets breathe again, beat again, become alive again. As we drive through the highways and sink down into the yellow line with our unlocked eyes, the highways see again, and have optical dialogues with the sky. And when this new sky rains down it rains down lucidity and galaxy essence and enlightens us. It rains on the White House too, doncha know.

PART 2: Meditation

Somewhere along I got the wrong idea.
Oh, but then that image of the monk in snow.
How come that still moves me so?
It must be an old friend
Calling me.

	Noah Buschel
	How Poetry and Meditation Can Save America From Fundamentalism Part 1: Poetry The U.S.A. has become a land of literalism and fundamentalism. You must have noticed. I saw you across the street yesterday, but didn't say hello because we both seemed to be in a hurry. But I was gonna say-- A nation ignorant of metaphor and poetics. That's what we've become, really. The church and the government move closer and closer together under the flag of non-creativity. Our children have become black belts, world travelers, and mountain climbers-- but only in video games. We hear talk about the depleted environment-- dying farms, dry lands-- but this is just a reflection of the state of our imagination. The country-- the dirt, the roads, the streets and highways have come to mirror the condition of our mind. As we as people have become more tired, less flexible, easier to agitate, unable to see outside the T.V. box, the dirt of our country has become more gravely, the roads have become more jagged, the streets- the very sidewalks- are more arduous, have lost their sleekness, and the highways-- they go nowhere more than ever. They go to fast food cathedrals and dynamite dealers and casino castles and gun sellers and magazine-soda halls. These are the only places promised, exit after exit. It gets to the point where it's easy to forget Benjamin Franklin and that our nation was founded on lightning. Founded on going out into storms with a key and kite. Of course, Bush and many others in power want the American people to stay in during storms. They want us to stay in and know that we are being protected. But what are we being protected from exactly? Our fairy tales have been homogenized and whitewashed into soapy nothingness. The witch has lost her fangs and nails, for our protection. Our past has been altered and edited. Jackson Pollock's cigarette has been airbrushed out, for our protection. Our live broadcasts have been put on five second delay. Nudity will never be seen again on a major network, for our protection. And in many ways, if we don't want to stay in during storms(and there is a storm happening right now) the government has ways of making us stay inside. But not really they don't. Not if we look deeply at what it means to go outside. In order to overthrow a fundamentalist and unartistic government, one must be metaphorical, inventive, and peering. One must not just see things as flat and take fact for fact, and limit for limit. Every time we do so, we add another layer of lie to our national atmosphere. No, in order to really take on a fundamentalist assembly, we have to enter the land of poetry. Oh- Poetry, what use could Poetry have now? Poetry like old men with beards and sonnets and curled shoe toes and bell necklaces and turtlenecks and chess cafes and love odes? Well, naw, not really. It's funny how poetry has become this sort of feminine, gay, wimpy word to modern American. Else it brings up images of Sylvia Plath's head in an oven, or Emily Dickinson's closed door, and other bizarre eccentric activities of the like. There's a terrific stigma around poetry these days in the U.S. of A, like no time ever before. Even in the supposed conformed and confined climate of the pre-hippie sixties, there was at least enough respect for poetry in America that J.F.K. closed his eyes and listened when Robert Frost spoke. But somewhere along the line, in one of those steroid-fueled Monday Night Football games it mighta been, poetry's reputation became the distinct stomping ground of ballerinas. Even in the school systems, poetry has slowly been left out of the picture. And the shame of it is not so much that Whitman will be left unread, but that in the not reading of poetry books, it will be hard for us as a nation to realize that poetry isn't just in books. That poetry isn't really about words at all. Fundamentalism doesn't mean plain thusness and poetry doesn't mean beautifying or adding to. Rather, fundamentalism is not at all seeing things as they really are and poetry is not at all some sort of extra sheen upon the landscape. Fundamentalism is taking a heart beat and making it into a statistic on a chart, and then denying the actual heart itself, only pointing to the chart. Fundamentalism is reading a story and thinking that the story actually happened, rather than that the story is a streamlined version of the sky and pointing to greater realities of a universe where there is no story at all. Fundamentalism is taking the teachings of Christ and not understanding that Christ was a poet, the Bible-- just a good book of similitude. Poetry is seeing directly into essential nature by going beyond the rational into the place of body experience, sensory awareness, mind acceptance, and life-death breath. Poetry's nothing sacred or particularly pretty or sweet. Poetry is non-dualistic, even when it is dualistic. Poetry is independent and untouchable of the control of the central government. Imperial power has no authority whatsoever over poetry. While fundamentalism saps out the water and liquid and color of our mind making it hard and depressed and fearful of storms, poetry makes the mind wet and soft and dark and fluid and strong and shifting constantly in shape/size/proportion. The mind becomes the eye of the storm. What does the center of a hurricane have to fear? To be a fundamentalist, one simply needs a mixture of dread, laziness, self-clinging, and hallucination. To be a poet, one needs relentless spirituality, ascetic discipline, compassionate tolerance, and detached forgiveness. It's easy to see why many are going with fundamentalism these days. More potato chips. Where does fundamentalism come from? It comes from the absolute terror of mystery and change. Fundamentalism is the period at the end of a sentence. And then it's the holding on to that period. There are so many reasons for those in power to be fundamentalists. The main one being that they are in power, but only fundamentally. In the fundamental world they are on top. In the poetic world, there is no top. Also, if they can somehow nail everything down and stop all wildness, then they can tell themselves there is no wildness, and in their fantasies, that wildness inside of them that they're so scared of, will die. Of course, in reality, it can't die. It's the universe. But the goal of fundamentalism is to manipulate the universe into a commercial. It's to take something raw, and make it into something easily swallowed. There is never any peace in fundamentalism because it is intrinsically manipulative and unable to let things be as they are. There is a constant fighting with nature, because fundamentalism is scared that we're all just a bunch of aliens in the middle of outer space. Human being has been fundamentalized into suit and tie, Friends sitcom, white teeth, fitness, bra, shampoo, and clipped nails. But human beings are evolving, and what we're evolving into is something more like E.T. than the Marlboro Man. Again, fundamentalism doesn't like this very much. It pumps in John Wayne and Playboy Bunnies just in case we start thinking about moving past our small identities of man/woman/white/black/old/young/person/self/name--into other realms of poetic, big mind. Illegal Alien mind, if you will. In poetry there is the means of seeing what's really happening now in America. To see that the awful powers that be are actually our very own nightmares dragged into daylight and not separate from us in the slightest. To see that our President's violent actions are simply the budding of our own communal bad dream, our national horror vision made three-dimensional and physical. To see it's all the product of an unstretched muscle, unfed third eye, athlete gone soft, hesitation, knowing and then not doing. It's the non-entrance into the storm that makes for terror. If there are terrorists- they are only the result of a million eyes turning away, or looking past. Poetry allows us to see that war is the deaf ear to the thunder in the sky. It's the locked door. The shut off neighbor. The ready gun. The tense shoulders. The car alarm. The fake caffeine energy, the dark sun glasses, the polished photograph, the craving pop song, the drunken sleepiness, the complete rationality, the rejection of insanity, the casting away of illness, the hiding of death, the pretend kindness, the glorified quarterback, the fake lovers, the do-good charities, the forgotten vagabond, the cocaine epiphany, the pretty movie, the newspaper boxed reality, the silent death, the jailed and muted killers, the zoo'd tiger. War only happens when nature's storm is being ignored. The more we deny the storm, the more war will come our way. The more lipstick we wear, the more blood will be shed. To protest war isn't gonna get the job done. Protest, in fact, is war. Feeds war. Creates more war. Only when we embrace war will war lose it's power. Only when we see that war is our body's own defensiveness, our very own body's lack of openness-- will war lose it's hold on our country. It would be nice to believe that it was so easy as protesting. But it was protesting that started all this in the first place. Protesting all the things we don't like. Protesting a certain flavor, person, government, political view. Through poetry we can see our likes and dislikes for what they are-- delusions. As our opinions fall away and we realize that all flavors taste the same, and all scents smell the same, and all phenomenon look the same, and all noises sound the same, and all contact feels the same, and all words are the same, all faces are the same, all countries are the same, all worlds are the same-- then we find the place of no resistance, no objection. And in our surrender to our surroundings, by letting our surroundings change us, our surroundings are changed. As we drop down into the streets with our open hearts, the streets breathe again, beat again, become alive again. As we drive through the highways and sink down into the yellow line with our unlocked eyes, the highways see again, and have optical dialogues with the sky. And when this new sky rains down it rains down lucidity and galaxy essence and enlightens us. It rains on the White House too, doncha know. PART 2: Meditation Somewhere along I got the wrong idea. Oh, but then that image of the monk in snow. How come that still moves me so? It must be an old friend Calling me.