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Best Poems From
ERHARD HANS JOSEF LANG
(January 8,1957)
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25.
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One-liner: The Mind Is One Network
How could one imagine what it
sounded like when starting to
learn a foreign language,
merely from the books, and had
never been to the place
where they speak that tongue,
nor had heard it spoken
at any time otherwise?
Might one still know, just by
way of approximating imaginations,
how it sounded like?
'But it's only so in your imagination! '
the voices of your close-by,
echoes of mind, come reverberating
back to your ears
from the ignorant world.
By any means,
could it be true
what they'll be telling you,
that you're imagining things - only -
and this would have nothing to do with
reality? !
I, for one, can't believe anyone
to have a right to say he or she
be a sole owner of mind,
though I do hold there's some secret about mind.
Does any scientist know what it is?
- Are we then well-advised, therefore, better not
to be telling anyone about the greater things,
in for being cooked in mind,
but not yet full done? ? -
I, for one, want to express
that I strongly feel that
we - all of us -
as we stand and fall -
are all connected up together,
connected by one and the same mind,
and I strongly feel,
that one may well listen in,
listen in to this one mind
- way through the distances,
and even way through time
and the times.
So, why wouldn't we be able to
innerly hear, factually true,
another's speak,
be it even that the speaker were
on another stellar galaxy's
enlivened global planetary? !
How much more so with innerly
hearing your next-door woman,
or the unknown soulmate
out in the open
wide streets of life?
And even all the dead got
all their seed minds, I feel,
left there behind,
out in the far lanes of
vast stellar memory planes
of landscapes and plains
in the cosmic mind,
all units being more or less safely
stored away there,
for the future accesses,
by their living partners, or
of those yet to live,
in mind.
If only we the living
were more acknowledgable
of the unique oneness
impressed on our
own most precious one mind,
beyond all the minded
objects of realized materializations -
in mind.
This is a one-liner: the mind is one network.
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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26.
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Papa Pater Patrum Pererit Papissa Papellum
Following story is told in medieval chronicles
With reference to the legendary
Popesse Johanna VIII
- It is stated she was but a rival Pope on the throne,
Not accepted by all contemporaries of her days -
Who had originated from Germany,
Studied in the guise of a male in Athens and
Who had mounted the papal throne, likewise by
Pretending to be a male,
As John VIII in 855 and
Who was lynched and subsequently
Banned into a nunnery
After her giving birth in the streets of Rome
While on a papal procession in 858:
A little devil was seen descending at
The spot of the Pope's delivery of the baby,
And heard blurting out in triumph:
'Papa, Pater Patrum, pererit Papissa papellum'.
('The Pope, Father of Fathers, as Popesse,
gave birth to a small pope')
Eversince that event a new Pope-elect,
Before his inauguration, had been asked
To sit on a chair with a hole in its centre -
The so-called Sella stercoria,
From underneath of which chair a priest would come
To verify with his very hand
The male gender of the new Pope-to-be.
Only after the priest's announcing 'Habet'
(He's got it) was the Pope's election
Considered as valid.
* * * *
a contemporary lithography of the birth-giving Popesse of the year 858 may be viewed at http: //www.webimagesearchengine.com/upload/birth-giving-Popesse-Johanna-VIII-of-858.jpg
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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27.
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Personalized Overflow Of Three Rivers' Mighty Confluence
Threefold is the source of the fluid-liquid element.
The flow of rivers on the Earth
Are but imitations of the flowing principle and
The tides in cosmic spheres, as it is,
On the planetary plane.
The streaming of the fluid elements in all of this station Earth's waterways,
In its unseeable, though most widely spread momentum
Is kept aflowing with its fuel for the rover's mobility ever self-generated
From the deepest gurgling in the underground plants of
The Earth's cisterns and caverns
Through Nature's raingod-supervised complex recycling machinery,
Working in between the laden skies,
The catalyzing agents of the air we all breathe, and
The solid soiled grounds below our feet,
Way up and way over, for all of them, in the end,
In most tremendous onslaughts of power in Nature at work,
Jointly flowing in unison of biggest nature,
Grandest scene of all times and
Throughout the three worlds of current elements in the universe,
Yet to be gushing
Into these most paleo-ontological and hugest ocean beds of ours
On the surface of this planet earth of oddmost spinnings.
As in some instances the mystic triad of the many-layered cosmic fluidum
Comes to even manifest itself,
In moody display of a weaponry of arms of an ordinance
Higher than the plainly disorganized physical
And organized human plane,
A show by spirited gods with a naughty interest in making certain matters coincide,
As a figure of three-in-one, in the very landscapes
Where divine Nature's human think-tank heads sport about -
'Hey, can't you really, really remember me any more, after all? ' -
While a traveller through Southern India's highlands, and
The only third-party member in a group of
Otherwise British and local Tamil girls and boys,
I was about to break away from so I'd be
Free to take a different route more appealing to my personal interests,
As I was standing on a corner,
The hushed voice of a deep and long, silent stare into my eyes
By a foreign face, which came out of the blue,
Spoke to me
The face of a young traveller, another German, like myself,
Who had come near where I was standing to meet with me.
Only after eventually lending speech to what
His eyes fixed on me could not reveal
It became clear to me that the young tourist was
My one-time chance lodge mate in another South Indian
Highland spot, not all too far from where we then met again,
Some two years prior to our renewed seeing each other.
During our first short time together
I had become used to be looking into the face of a companion
With long shiny hair billowing down onto his shoulders,
With whom I then had gone on one day
On a long walk-about out in nature through forests and mountain villages
Within the range of the hillstation where we both and his then girl-friend were lodged,
Whereas the young man's mane from times before
At that second instant of our meeting one another had been no more.
My unexpected newly met friend from before,
In addition to the travel company in whose hired van
I had come up to that very town there
With me, myself, thus was to make up for a set of three -
Who, each of us, then had happened to be, at the same time,
At a place of confluence of three rivers
In a highland town - called Three Rivers -
'Munnu aaru' in the language of South India,
Named so after three rivulets that
Unite into one stream of current
Right there at Munnaar,
In the borderland between the Indian states of Kerala and Tamil Nadu.
Three of a kind swept onto the same shore
On the brinks of chance with the flow of time,
Is a deep cosmic event that
Hails from spheres higher than our small world's,
As such an engaging source of inspiration that reminds us also to
Get the world moving on by resolute leaps of triple strides.
Causes and reasons, pleadings and reasonings,
Decisions and intentions,
When only the gods are in a mood to be smiling on us,
Will work themselves out at once
In Three Rivers, flowing together.
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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28.
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Schleckig Geschlecht Schleckt Nichts Schlechtes (with translation)
Ein schleckiges Geschlecht wird nie etwas schlechtes schlecken
- Geil're Kraft - breit're Pracht immerzu -
HOLLA-HO: es blitzen der Holden
Bollig wohlig durchgefegten Verschlδge
Nur so!
English translation:
Lovers of a sex fond of tasting goodies
Will never come to taste a thing that is bad
- The lewder the strength - the wider the pomp all the while -
Hello, hello, now look at this:
The niches of the beauties,
Swept through so thoroughly feeling well,
Sparkle all spic'n'span
Like nothing else can!
ת ר צ ה
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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