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Best Poems From
ERHARD HANS JOSEF LANG
(January 8,1957)
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57.
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Is Death Really Of The Nature Of Life, Dear God?
Are we really present in this body
when we pass at night
through our lands of dream?
Supposed we wanted to
know what 'we' really are
beyond the pleasing hurting physics.
If sleep is a continually needed stop for reshaping-up,
metered out over one and same vehicle of life,
that, as we all are, is
struggling so wearily
by all means of inner qualities,
in an ever growing turmoil of outer nature,
while really trying hard, somehow,
time and again, in all possible kinds of habitat,
to raise sharp-defining matches on flatly impossible conditions,
and all of this
just to survive this blunt massive gravity
that endlessly causes each and everything,
in its unrelenting grip of the elements of creation,
to whirl about:
Is not death then just the
well-deserved resting of a bored player who,
finally having managed the
clearing of the table of his
game set-up of chances,
eventually run stale-mate,
settling to relax for a while,
either sitting idle on the spot or
doing other things in
another world of schemes meanwhile,
getting ready, eventually,
for a new round of the old game,
there back home again
hopefully with an
enjoyable set-up of the
allotted player marbles?
Oh dear God high above,
would You allow me for once
to shake and thrust that
tumbler of fate's dice
myself?
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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58.
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Lacks Reliques Are Re-Leaking Lax: Better be Relaxed!
There seemed to have been something lacking yet in life eversince
In the midst of all those things around,
Even before that great damage had been done and
Interiors along with a lifetime's treasure inside the house knocked down to the ground,
Either given away as tokens of neighbourly spirit for souvenir hunters, if not
Burnt on malignant iconoclastic pyres outside in the garden,
Or sold out to antique connoiseurs with money in town.
But lo, in vain they strove to hurt the good man:
I'm doing finer now than even before,
As if the essence of pagan dictionaries and of
All books lost only now have
Started to well up in a dis-onerated mind.
And how we got ourselves refurbished in this
My little stow-away room
Inside my own home these days!
With the whole house now
Whitewashed hospital-clean, its former giant living-room, after being
Stripped nearto bare-empty
During that short fatal absence of mine from home -
The door keys left to the care of just the wrong hands - now being
Aired with a hive of waspy buzzers from the wooden old air-con box, while
Slowly replenishing with plastic wastes, where prior
Mystic spirits and high philosophic moods reigned,
My little stow-away room, in which all these moods of yore and a host of fresh spirits of home, now
Come flaring up even denser, since physically more compressed,
- Whereas before I used to say:
A man with wide outlooks also needs to live in a big room for a home - by
The gimmicky help of a cut&soldered make-shift plug-in wire,
A handy phone, a remnant player and a set of tiny speakers,
Excellent Russian rock-orchestras with splendid extended tones to make ring off,
Recordings of hottest tunes live,
And a mind set-up like mine,
Now at times does even sound off all the more inveigling or gooky
Than with complete equipment as before,
Whenever I wanted it to,
To joyously, at times, be dancing with the lively spirits and moods of mind.
For the strong at heart will always survive.
-
dedicated to a renowned physician in town
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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59.
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Life Is In No Hurry To Evolve
Life is in no hurry to evolve:
Or wouldn't we otherwise,
In one span of life-time,
Be allowed to grow more than
One set of teeth of our own?
Our baby's first set of mouthware
Naturally being the croppings from
Yet an older life that was spent away, in order, all over again,
For the game of Life to make itself up rejuvenating,
Once more, for all its many many countless grand thrusts,
To be given a new chance to altogether
Make for the better,
(And as such, thus, the first set of teeth
Actually not to be counted.)
Only once in life we grow teeth.
Life is in no hurry to evolve.
Yet, this serves as no excuse for
Staying put teethless for ever
In one's time given to live.
Our own Maker stands way above these earthly
Wallowings in our high-speed planetary times,
While He the God did everything physically possible
To be slowly getting on with creating down here
Us fine living embodiments of Einsteinian equations.
Taking things likewise as divinely easy,
As earthlings it must be our privilege,
While making some big things out of
Our own small selves and the life given us
To speed it all up a bit - in our very own ways and time,
For many many more, more happily rejoicing
Lives and life-times in our posteriority to come.
Let's thus get on with our human life's (r) evolution!
I for one would like to see money abolished- worldwide:
Men have invented many incredibly
Systematically functioning toys and gadgets.
Can't we invent a systematic new world order that
Could get around to satisfying all people's needs and wants
Without the humiliation connected to all give-&-take
In the name of that so hard-to-get money
Owned only by God's earth's smartguys
And those clans of millionaires?
I believe we can!
But only so, I think, when we realize
What it implies accordingly,
And also especially for this case of human development, that
Life is in no hurry to evolve.
Speak up, People! !
People will listen to you! !
* * *
I recommend readers to take a look at my Votelet page and eventually cast a personal vote at http: //www.network54.com/Votelet/38264 on the issue mentioned in this poem
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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60.
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Magic -Live- Catches One Unawares
Oh this grand, oh so vibrant cosmic swinging and flurrying
With all its expressive - and abstract - hidden huge influences being
carried along! !
As vast a world as is ours,
It yet always seems to be as tiny
In these rounded, ever widening fields of our immense cosmos
We're brooding in -
This is what engulfs all our things down here,
Far and wide, seen and unseen! ! !
As well, it does hold engulfed
Me, too, and my world, and yours and you.
Would you, Unknown Entity, for once again, energetically join forces,
and, for a minute or two,
Take up your abode in my mind, benevolently?
For you now opening up, slip into one like myself
- And may you enjoy making up a man like me as you're superceding
On me of flesh and blood,
and come to stay in my heart!
Am I prepared so that you could stand me? -
Finally you'd be one here that I, as a human, could bow to?
Would you be also one I may freely converse with and befriend? Or am I
too small by size to dare entertain
A wish aspiring for your heights?
Or is there a place elsewhere, aside from Mind,
That you, mystic One in All by all in one,
Would pitch up your tent and camp?
Another regal abode, befitting for you to come down to,
Aside here from mind?
Where you could have a Oneness of all your subtlest fibers
Gladly reflected, re-creating yourself in a small vessel?
On this one spritely pearl of globe come oh so alive?
In Mind only - I, for one, just can't see another -
Everything under the sun, May easily stand up together in a line.
Seers and shamans of different ancient peoples
Have named different means
Of ensuring the potency of Magic Spells.
Some are said to have gained the glorious realm of wonders
Strictly by devotionals with most beloved Goddesses and Gods.
And one can easily imagine that those
Who make for lofty fields of miracles,
By mere spells of cosmic knowledge and
Algebraic laws of magic ritual,
Through rightful rites -
Are those who would want to make the least of noise
Whilst their miracles are happening, -
Not a curious eye to be baffled thereby,
while the coming of their miracles might
Hardly be noticed by themselves -
Self-grown fruit of will as these are,
Expressed only at the sudden end
Of an ultimate chain of action in Mind.
As sweet a fruit the action to be,
As sweet a fruit to Graciously be granted by some insider eye of higher
insight? -
Is this what they meant
when I heard them say,
'God is good'?
Many have wanted to know what exactly it is
That makes real of
Non-trickster magicians' work:
Each and every one of those, rarely
Whenever met to face the question,
Just mysteriously answered,
'True Magic lives by the magic of its secret.'
And they all stop short of telling
That it is only to avoid the shattering of their magic's frame
To be built up in a singular of cell, theirs,
That the secrets must be kept by all means.
For no leakage in the Mind will drain their cause only
Unless it is bumped at by the low-flying ignorant,
Once they got wind of it.
Magic deeds that, without fail, can
Spell out a realistic performer's desire
Right through the Mind,
Must they not be verily magic playing live.
With cosmic will power swerving down
To bend and shape circumstances of life -
Magic must come easy, I feel, if it were to happen -
As easy as a magic performance is being done?
For things to be happening one's own way - magically?
Things seen strictly as accidental coincidences
By a non-magician's eye!
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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