Blackberry Abyss

She stands at the precipice of the cliff
thinking back to blackberries, picking licking
the sweet bitter juice which dripped down her chin
youth's years, her mother's voice
Be careful what you wish for
Clouds above whir; swirl in white blankness
like her empty mind, silent but needle memories
of Be careful what you wish for
eyes closed, she leaps soars shatters
a broken memory; splintered shards of self.

Stacey M. Burleson

Dichotomies

She is a wildcat
pink-tipped fingernails
leave no marks
dark hair brushes a
cheek
pools down
her paper skin

He is Panthera leo
brown eyed intelligence
shadows a carnivorous
nature
his sharp teeth
mar her
with his strength

He is a Project Manager
I tell people what to do
he pleads playful, tawny eyes
crinkle Kleenex corners
I would really like a
cup of coffee or
I'll send you to the
Galapagos Islands

A Professor she quips
I don't do what I'm told
her brown bangs slant across
hazel eyes, haughty
Get you own damn coffee

Lizards, moss skin scaly
paint flakes floating
forming lime snow
isolated loneliness
where animal regins
Darwinian dangers of
survival of the fittest

visions of the Galapagos Islands

with a slight smile
she knows she's been bested
she gets up to make his coffee.

Stacey M. Burleson

Thesis Introduction

Hey everyone, this is the introduction to my thesis. Any feedback would be appreciated.

Where Have All of the Angels Gone, Have They Turned into Puppets?
Existentialism and Nihilism in the Works of Paul Klee and Rainer Maria Rilke

Introduction

World War I was a major turning point in history which had a direct causation on art,

literature, and philosophy. Art fragmented into various “isms”, such as expressionism, cubism,

futurism, and suprematism, often displacing artists and causing them to change from movement

to movement. In a sense the fragmentation of art paralleled the vast devastation of war on so

many fronts, including loss of homes and loss of life; individuals sought to understand often the

pointlessness of it all. Thus the war that was termed “the Great War” was supposed to end

quickly with little causality. Ultimately “the Great War” turned into a disaster. New

developments, such as trench warfare expedited death. Soldiers were often buried and

suffocated under dead soldiers in the trenches. The use of gas suffocated many fighting in the

trenches and fallout from grenades killed many as well. World War II was an additional turning

point in history. Millions of innocent people were slaughtered in the name of a “pure race”,

leaving a devastated Europe despairing over the lack of humanity of it all.

During the backdrop of the war the artists suffered as well. “In the summer of 1937, Klee’s

prominence as an artist condemned by the National Socialist government was confirmed for all

to see.”[1] Whereas modernist art was once accepted and hailed as great art during the Weimar

Republic, it was ridiculed and put on public display by the National Socialist government. This

ultimately led to a political confrontation concluding with the confiscation of modern works in all

public collections in Germany.[2] A Degenerate Art Exhibit was set up across from an exhibit

displaying ‘good’ examples of art. Thus new standards were established for art, which excluded

modern art. Whereas modern art was upheld as ‘high art’ in the Weimar Republic, this all

changed under the rule of the National Socialist government. Therefore what happened to the

artists whose works were confiscated? Many were forced to flee, losing their jobs and in many

circumstances their art as well.

When historical experiences are traumatic (such as the conditions of World War I and World

War II) a person seeks to lose oneself; a former identity is lost forever and a new cultural

identity is created.[3] Often one cannot see beyond the past or create a new historical identity.

This leads to the philosophical idea of existentialism for when one remains in touch with one’s

self and relies only on their organic senses they rely solely on themselves.[4] Thus in a sense

both the past and the future become irrelevant. They seek to live only in the present moment.

However often in extreme cases this can lead to the idea of nihilism. I hope to demonstrate that

neither Paul Klee nor Rainer Maria Rilke could accomplish a particular transformation dear to

both of them – namely, the move from what, in these philosophical terms, could be described as

a transition from existentialism to nihilism. These issues articulated through these artists,

crystallize around the figures of “the angel” and “the puppet.” This illustration can be seen in

Paul Klee’s painting Angelus Novus (1932) [Fig. 1] and in Rainer Maria Rilke’s Duino Elegies

(1923) reflecting ideas of existentialism. Often existentialism practiced to the extreme can turn

into a type of nihilism as can be seen in Klee’s Death and Fire (1940) [Fig. 2]. Thus when one

exists in a state of existentialism or nihilism do they further abandon all hope and then

ultimately the human race? In addition, the Nietzchean idea of “…a form of moral renewal in

which the forces of destruction and creation were inseparably linked to one another” can be seen

in the work of the aforementioned.[5]

Footnotes

[1] Roskill, Mark. Klee, Kandinsky, and the Thought of Their Time: A Critical Perspective. (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1992), 55.

[2] Ankersmit, F.R. “The Sublime Dissociation of the Past: or How to Be(Come) What One Is No Longer.” History and Theory. (October, 2001), 302.

[3] Nietzsche, Friedrich. Trans. R.J. Hollingdale. A Nietzsche Reader. (London: Penguin Books Ltd, 1977), 203.

[4] Werckmeister, O.K. “From Revolution to Exile.” Paul Klee: His Life and Works. Ed. Carolyn Lanchner. (New York: Hatje Cantz Publishers, 1987), 44.

[5] Ibid, 45.

One of my colleagues read "I Still Have a lot To Learn" and suggested that there was something missing. I have since re-read and I agreed with him. In lieu of that I have added an additional stanza. I think it is complete now.

I Still Have a lot to Learn

Once upon a time I believed people were genuinely ‘good’, not the self-absorbed society we have become, an endless thread of me, me, and me spooling around boundless corners until the self is both lost and absorbed into a corporate paper doll image.

Each day I try to work on the idea of self. I am becoming. I do not want to be a cardboard cutout wearing clothes with fold over tabs, living in a paper house, driving a starched car, answering to a bendable boss.

I think everyone should work in a grocery store. We should all be subjected to the feet tapping and heavy sighs of the wearied work force as they get off late from work and rush to pick up a few things. We smile our plastic smiles and make small talk as we sack endless items until the customer scowls and growls I really would appreciate if you would just shut up, I don’t need any small talk. Yet we still smile our vacant smiles, wheel the groceries out of the store and thank our version of God for education.

Religion is not an organization it is a state of being. Some use church services as an excuse to forgive the bad deeds they are going to commit during the week. It is instant forgiveness in a speedy society like instant coffee and Polaroid pictures. I simply lead a simple life and treat others the way I want to be treated. What is between me and my God is simply that, it is between us.

I feel writing is one of the most difficult activities to do well. It takes persistence and perseverance, the repetition of write, edit, and write some more. I am rarely happy with what I put down on a piece of paper. At one point it was depressing, I had flashes of ovens and putting stones into my pockets and finding a lake, so I stopped writing. Guess what? I started writing again. PERSISTENCE, PERSEVERANCE

I have had several careers. I am somewhat of a Renaissance man although I really am a Renaissance girl. A career is something I have to do the rest of my life so I will be a poet, a writer, a college instructor and a daredevil but whatever I do I will strive to be the best at it.

I live life. I don’t want to look back and think what if? We all have regrets, but to date they are minor like a broken nail or a forgotten appointment. These things are nuisances but not the gut churning, I’m going to lose sleep over decisions that I’ll dwell on until I’m eighty and blame everyone in my life about how it’s not my fault, it’s everyone else’s or just life in general.

A friend once asked me, Why aren't you married? It's a question I get quite often. I replied, I don't believe in love. Call it self preservation. I have felt that gut-wrenching, palms sweating, heart palpitating, can't wait to get home and talk to that individual feeling. I've said the words I love you ONCE. When I love it's completely, whole-heartedly, entirely. So these days I date, smile a sad smile and HEAL.

I am not a financial guru. I live a modest life yet I don’t save as much as I should. Refer to the paragraph above. If I want to fly to Paris on a whim like an unexpected storm, I will. If I want to climb Mayan pyramids, I’ll risk the heat to climb every pyramid that’s still open to the tourists.

Family is important. They are a cornerstone, a foundation and a building block. I didn’t realize this until both my dad and my mom died. They were both ripped away when I was still fairly young. It taught me to live life, to take that vacation instead of putting off, to not wait until tomorrow because

what if tomorrow never comes and today ceases to exist?

First version published in The Bayousphere (2007)

Samsara

The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed. -Stephen King

He was the last cowboy
dressed in khakis and a
button down shirt.
His weapons
words

Master of Manipulation
he is not the Gunslinger;
my mistake. He is the Man
in Black

his plastic heart reflects his
transparent words of
I’m interested in you
as they fall to the floor
scramble,
colored
letters from
a child’s
magnet set.

Constant chase
cyclical
fleeing from the

Gunslinger

the Man in Black

Himself

pulling others
screaming silent
with his pretty words
into other
secret sensual
worlds
then he lets
go
Endless cycle
of pursuit, advance
retreat until

The Gunslinger

The Man in Black

ultimately
merge and
become

one

while the others
fall, float like
paper doll personas
of their previous
selves for

There are other
worlds
than these.

Bad Moon on the Rise

I see the bad moon arising.
I see trouble on the way. – Creedence Clearwater Revival


There’s a bad moon
on the rise she drawls
blending sounds;
a cacophony of consonants

What does that mean?

It’s an old blues saying
he says smugly with
his youth’s years
a bad omen, kind of
like the seventh daughter
of the seventh son

That’s too simple
They are not merely
song lyrics

There’s a bad moon
on the rise she croons
her lament-like lyric
once more

I’m missing something.
I don’t get it.

I don’t think John
Fogerty song lyrics
deserve some deep
analysis he responds
with semi-intellectual
semblance
not everything has to have
some deeper meaning
or subtext

I think the elusive answer is
right there divaricating a Durgan
of my memory. It’s about
Beginnings…

There’s a bad moon on the rise

Is that what happens
when you spend
your whole life
shrouded in books,
you end up
overanalyzing everything
to the point of dementia
he jeers his pseudo-
intellectual say so.
Do you want to know what
my opinion on those people
are?

Sure, I respond still
pontificating

I say, ‘Go fly a kite!’
he counters

Now, that sounds like fun.