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illustration by Ursula Freer N E U R O G L Y P H S (Parallel Songs in a Molecular Key)
by Neil Freer

The Philotropic Equilibrist - At Apogee
The Chant of Non-Koan - Breaking The Godspell
The Inescapable Universe

We have not been waiting for you!
We knew you would meet us everywhere!
If you are a seasoned traveler
Enjoy your acceleration!
If new to these velocities
Please stow your carry-on fears under your seat
And carefully read the book in front of you.
Several times.

The Philotropic Equilibrist

"True poetry is always an early form of our future common speech"
        - Frank Clinton, Retrospection In Retrospect

Poetry is

More than the pregnant


Hung hollow to dry In coffee'd air;

(Some culled club

Of a dull two-edged cliche)

Neither a black belt in innuendo

Nor a silver tongue for solipsism;

More than idiosyncratic privatisms,

Incomprehensible emotion,

Simpering syntax,

Or the correct academic thing.

Only embarrassing,

The shambling, threadbare vocabulary

Obsequiously rattling mediocre metaphors

In the tin cup of one's inadequacy,

Panhandling the reader's

Uncomfortable contribution.

Quite incomplete,

The public gashing of hysterical wrist,

The ceremonial disembowelment

Over innocent paper,

The obtuse capitulation to the void

In impeccable Italian clothes,

Or the picking of one's emotional scabs

Offered, in bruised defiance,

As facsimile of a complex universe.

Only tolerable,

The romantic perception that,

At its best, the making of poetry

Differs from meditation

Only in that one judges it

Sufficiently significant

To pause in the toroidal spiral

Of hyperrecursion to splash a bit of ink,

Scratch a few inchoate syllables,

Pan a rough neural gem

Or flecks of intellectual gold,

Enough for one more decent meal

Of fresh metaphor garnished, perhaps,

By an appropriate word or two

With the elusive charisma, body and bouquet

Analog of an unhurried sherry.

Yet insufficient,

Even the profound articulation

Attained in the tranquil eye

Of counterclockwise anxiety,

Or the unanticipated vision seen

Staggering from some transparent,

Unlocatable fire.

More satisfactory that,

Beyond the prescient probing

Of the quick and the deft

When the ambiguous roots of equations

That must be written in three dimensions

Warp the Cartesian axes

Of our elemental perception

In the complex gravity

Of reflexive consciousness,

The elegant delineation

Of symbiotic topologies taxes

Even poetry's meta-syntactical flexion.

When sanity sends you an invoice,

Caught pacing the fractal fringes

Of four-dimensional retuition,

One must mint metaphor In real time

With a non-arbitrary vocabulary

So pungently precise

It silences the transforms of intuition,

Creates a dynamic ad hoc integrity,

And resonates,

A sympathetic shiver

Of intuitive delight,

In those who know the place

But not its name,

The name but not that it is a place,

A name so seriously precise

That it is humorous,

A diamond point of oscillating

Morphogenetic transception.

As we tame poetry's laryngeal strut,

Effete verbalizations,

To the high tasks of humor,

And the higher task of wisdom,

Slowly the slippery imprecision

Of the rose garden,

Quickens to trans-dimensional perception.

At the still point of the turning universe,

All meaning can become so clear

No poetry is possible;

Words lose their charm,

Shimmering in consensual resonance,

Polarized to transparency

By the orthogonal oscillation

Of their duplex roots.

Poetry alight Is fore-space reification

A luminous obsidian microscapel

Of orthoscopic discovery

      "Turn a word, with precision,

       Turn a war, a world."

To say the least,

If it is possible to say the least,

It is probably not possible

To say the very least

While you are the music,

But shall we not try?

          (an invitation)


Playful terror of pedestrian bards,

Disdainer of menopausal musings,

Imploder of their cloyed vehicles,

I come, seeking the prerequisite tuning

Among you somnambulant singers

For I am this spacetime's itinerant

Crafter of the new language;

Lapidary of the touchstone word,

The singing singularity;

Seeker of isotropic freedom

Face to the stellar winds,

Rider of gravitational groundswells

Undulating galactic undertow;

Juggler of alternate universes

Strolling the ubiquitous fringing

Vast violet whirlpools of captive light;

Purveyor of phoneme tokens

For transelectromagnetic transit,

Chronicler of quantum suggestions

Driven by their transparent potential

To leave cryptic conceptual cairns;

Dispatcher of the urgent image

Rumoring events in the ancient future

Fragments of alien conversations

Whispering along astral geodesics;

Cherisher of the isospin relationship,

Exquisite sexual synchronicity,

Vehicle of elegant molecular geometry

Shimmering spiral of binary intelligence;

Forger of the explorer's canticle

Space-ready and earth-content.

Tear down the dusty shrines to Anachronism,

Monasteries of your private sensitivities!

I'll teach you the relativistic space-craft,

Quantum modalities fitting of our kind,

In the key of zero-G.

back to top

At Apogee

In a time of younger vectoring

The subtle pragmatic hiss

Of quantum statistical static

Or sudden irradiations

From cosmic thunderclaps

Light-years old

Spider-alerted my personal web

Into grotesque local distortions,

Comic fatigue from colored infusions,

Fiber optic fibrillations

Flashing through the labyrinthine

Endocrine rites of passage ... leading to fear.

In time and out of time

One learns to witness

The recapitulative

Classic cellular metaphors

Impersonal hormonal software

Polarizing the stochastic proclivities

Of our bicameral genetics

Sequentially tripping smooth molecular relays

Analog grammar of our survival.

One gains paralogical balance

To surf the thunderclap's curl,

Traversing the multiple ecliptics

Of the bead game's conversation,

Taught by gratuitous densifications

Quite logical but always amazing

Accelerated by foregranting friendships

Interpersonal tendrils glowing

In nondescript times

Amplified intelligent fusions

Leading to universe doubling love.

In a fit of fun Under a full moon

Swung a luminous hip at me

Said " feel?"

"Definitely, strolling,

I'll fabricate you a rolling field effect

An unilateral symmetry convergent

In this aromatic haze

Singing in hologrammatical cadences

Of a gentle sinuosity

Suspended in transpersonal space.

....Would you like a bite?"

"Certainly, I've tickets to your show!

Dusky glittering phallicisms pollinating the gibbering wind

Idly rolling the rattling limit-cubes

Of discarded concepts where

Metaphysics' dry night

Goes blind with fright

My ( tittering ) hero!"

Closed-lipped, continued

By mock-strike laughing finger

Arching my back as it gold-trailed,

Drew consciousness across my blushing abdomen.

In those private times

When we pluck the shimmering lattices

Of quadramatrix consciousness

Into asymmetrical harmonics,

Hurtling outbound through the heroic asteroids

Of our rational minds,

Most ancient song begins to unbind

Our mutual histoglyphics Into succulent synchronicities.

And suddenly I remember In peripheral history

That, significantly, bones glow, sinews grin,

Subtle molecular intrusion triggering

Tissueflex signalquickening

Fringe rippled neuronet extends

Through paisley fractal dimensions

Absorbing the smiling infusions

Of your binary gravity.

Outbound, unbound,

The awarenesses that we care to share simply

Become in the silvered curved emulsion

Parent transmind of our transparent mind

Proximal activation of genetic epigrams

As the content of our context

Becomes the context of our content'.

The inexorable hedonic overtones

Of those ancestral harmonies

Excite the fluid frequencies

Of our binary pulsar drive

As awareness rebounds coterminous

With consensual universe

Until the parallel imprecision

Of our asymptotic velocities

Sparks across the limit set of ecstasy

Exquisite acceleration into hyperdrift

Time past and time future

Only retrospective convergencies

As we read the flickering neuroglyphs

Embedded in incandescent filigrees

Of synaptic conversation

Along this unimaginable apogee.

In cosmic double entendre we become

The modes of our perception,

Extrusions of consciousness

Through the prism of gravity

Rainbowing the quantum preunity

Into a spectrum of encrypted frequencies

Whose indigenous syllogistics

Cascade kaleidescoping In self-referencing transforms:

Reality the hologrammatical standing wave

Perceived by the surreal light

Of strobing cancellations

In the hypercomplex of interference patterns

Called "now".


As a quantum modality

Requires a pliant scalar grace

To be prepotent pheromemes

Laughing across dimensions,

Curled so tightly they whisper

In an unthinkable friction.

Undulating Escherian fabrics

Woven of the naked laws of form,

Rarefy to Cagian stillness,

Resonating non-transactions

Without conceptual subtitles,

Until quaint compassion Is the only valid currency;

Calling/crossing diamond token

Deposited unboard

The subquantal shuttle

Rapid transit two.

Here one must forego even the language

Spoken only in pastperfect humor

Tensed along the back of the eyes

Learned in the very ancient future

From savants, outlaws and cognoscenti

Who have slipped the event horizons

Of select singularities.


In the quantum modality,

Dimensionless reification

Across interpersonal synapses

Oscillating conscious equation

Scintillating maximum pleasure

Of minimal differentiation

Humorous helical undulation

Of transparent vulnerability

Neurolexicons equilibrating

In synchronous phase spaces

A few smiling photons exchanging

The negotiated symmetry

Of congruent initial conditions

In sparse engrammatical syntax

The frictionless retroactivity

Of gene-field recognition.

Here one must finally forego

Even the tincture of exponentiated poetry,

The beautiful blasphemy of thinking.

The intrinsically recurrent

Seductive solution

Anticipatory inescapability

Now only a rote declension,

A reflexive Dopplering contrail,

The tense of security.


In any way we know we know


If one wishes to be informed,

An epistemologically humorous dare;


If one desires to be in form,

An effort;


If one deliberates,

An arbitrary construction;


If one decides,

An intrinsic construction;


If one differentiates,



If one chooses,

The universe


If one chooses to persist,








Somewhere along freefall

Fourth derivative friction In the multiplexing geometries

Generates infra-images,

Relative trans-forms

Emergent in the iridescent geodesics,

Churning conceptual webs,

Reconstructed selves

In reconstituted universes,

Only possibles yet In the teeming of probables.

Intelligence experienced

Is reflexive pleasure;

Intelligence understood

The beginning of existence

As pure information.

Our omniscient fingertips

Reify, touch as polyvariant topologies

Tuning the superstrings of duality

Teasing non-local harmonics into empathy

Still beyond the innuendo of trajectory;

Re-cognizable velocity

Only a congealing overtone.

The monolithic threshold

Of allowable universe encountered

At humming velvet velocity crystallizes

Molecular memories past and future

Glittering in the merging mirrors

Of contracting dimensions

Tracking one's timeline origin

By atomic pheromones

At four liquid frames per second

Toward rising cellular symphonies

Sudden solar resonances awaken

To the onset of conscious sleep

Prerequisite the rites of intricate passage

Through local customs.

Too soon the familiar

Reentry corridor echoing

Chattering scenarios

Hawked by second class deities

Forecasts and rumors

Headlines of the politics of evolution,

Seductive consensuals

Offering limbic thrills In elationary traps

Premature finalizations,

Limited noetic exultations,

In the clean rooms of idealized realities.

The games of thinkable gods

Are always antique ecstasies,

Even the exalted plucking of superstrings

Played coterminous with universe

An intrinsic pastime of past time

Only possible derivatively

In a relatively relative space-time.

If you think about it.

Slowly the universe,

Incredible specificity,

The grinding expedient

And the impractical essential,

Polite periodicities

Dealt with in humor

As the contrails fade,

In the cyclic redemption of citizenship.

Patience is a Newtonian virtue

Only in Cartesian space.

Treading the opposites

As stones to the teahouse,

Each step a statement,

Or juggling them as runes

Each toss a pun, a parable

One gains paralogical balance

At the coda of refractive thresholds


Permit us not

To impinge ourselves

We are only an extended


Our stance

Our pace

Intrusive tone


And xylophone bone

Unrhymed in non-time

A reciprocating dance



In our own phase-space.

back to top

The Chant Of Non-Koan

Permit me not

To introduce myself

I am only Non Koan

A rhythmic limbic,

One hand band,

Duplex monologue

Cosmic travelogue

Symbiotic pedagogue

Like a Zen master's cane

Augural doggerel's my game.

Parental pair

Called me Chiton

Such a horny polysaccharide

Thorn in the side!

But mimicked either,

Copied neither,

Jived the hive.

I am notes in the margin

My own style

My own smile

Slightly dapper

Evolutionary bootstrapper.

Call me Paraphrase

Or out of phase

I'm a spacetime dancer

Verbal tightrope prancer

Wild side walker

Relativistic double-talker.

Language a game,

At least a predilection,

Genetic addiction.

Poetry's only a paper caper

Weak flickering taper

But Non Koan grammar

Hits like a hammer;

Giant scrabble

In which to dabble.

No fame.  No blame.

Look in my eyes

And find the free lance ambiot

That is both

You and I

Know the arcane lore

Of solipsism's spore

Prepackaged freeze-dried umbra,

In-the-know matter

Littering the intellectual tundra

Where metaphysics' dry night

Goes blind with fright

Level of rarity,

Parity of synchronicity,

Where prime rhyme's the same

As patrician periodicity.

          A Salespitch chant

Do not linger

With the ancient singers

At the corner of Garlic and Rose.

Put ethnic traps

To your back

Take gentle leave

Of cloying tugs at your sleeve.

Daylight or night

Cleave to the spot

Charmed matrix dot

Under the stoplight

Where, in a pinch,

Moving only an inch

Always allows you to go.

You can see,

Through my inflections,

That a purveyor I am

Of botanical confections.


Step right through, folks!

Step right through!

Tell you what I'm not going to!

What I have in this vial,

In a very short while,

Spins you through an age

As if through a page!

Prevents with a taste

A whole life of waste!

The product of my vat

Can transform Laplace

Into Schroedinger's cat!

In a wink, with a drink,

Make Descartes really think!

Tell you what I'm not going to!

The one and many

Molecular cosmic mirror cleaner

I'll GIVE it to you If you'll just step through!

Before all, after all,

What else is the sound

Of a one hand band?

Permit me not

To ingratiate myself

I am uneasily Non Koan

A progressively digressive


Conceptual miscreant

Oxymoronic deviant

Epistemic recreant

Like the aikido master's game

Your aggression is my digression.

In my search for the exotic

Biopyrotechnics that endure

Most curious pleasure I've been able to procure,

A laser-traced treasure,

Polyhedral crystal polyglot

Of science fiction diction

Spoken by Swartzchilders

Who trade in pastperfect futures

And quantum commodities far wilder

While summering along private radii

Following their relative bent

To a pregeometric extent

Sipping Brownian fizzes without visible change

Except to the range

Of their horizon's events.

To be explicit

I do not traffic

In the gross

Or in the illicit

But once, by mistake,

Intergalactic Metropole

Down a black hole

Followed me

To their chagrin,

Since, once they were in,

They found, in awe,

Regarding matters perverse,

The Law serves the sentence --- in reverse.

Yet, permit me not

To intrude myself

I am simply Non Koan

A serpentine endocrine

Positive misnomer

Logical non-sequitur

Sensitive receptor

Polysyllabic perpetrator

Like the philosopher stoned

Infinite regression's my profession.

Recently returning

From the quantum outback

(Squeezed in the nick

Through a suspension

Of the consensual

That would give even Kali a kick!)

Glimpsed graffiti

On the subquantal shuttle,

As I loaded my trove for home,

-- such a subtle rebuttal --

"Home is only a genome!"

"Quarks are atomic pheromones!"

Then it's slide

The stark stellar dark

In glorious hyperdrive,

Down and through

The sullen solar stew

(One must shield one's stock

When the crackling electric demons

Lurking in Van Allen's belt

Begin to pelt

With elastic shock)

Skirting the gravity of customs,

For I am, by election,

A dedicated purveyor

Of molecular confections.

But, permit me not

To reiterate myself

I am certainly Non-Koan

A slippery symbiont

Ordinarily extraordinaire

Pedagogically laisse-faire

Iconoclastically doctrinaire

Like imaginary numbers

Uneasy solutions are my fame.

So! Step right through, folks!

Step right through!

Tell you what I'm not going to!

In a blink

Through a chink

In the consensual window

I'll guide you as you go

If you'll just step through!

From the clear space

Between innocent smoke

And fearful mirrors

Between the teahouse

And the recent future

A deftly adept

Collector of intellectual taxes

I use



Rattling the conscious bone

Syleptically syntaxing

Incongruent conceptions

To drive a no-point home.

Permit me to excuse myself

I am a transmuting koan

A cosmic windharp

Atonally tuned

Fore-space roamer

Fractal beachcomber

Slippery Janus-joker

The knave of the game called Names

Yet, when caught in your freeze frame,

Infinite progression's the game of my name.

So, do not let the driving rhyme

The song of a one hand band

Cause you to miss the new paradigm

Celebration of a grand reality

The regality of relative immortality

At the coda of refractive thresholds

In a time of younger vectoring...

The Philotropic Equilibrist - At Apogee
The Chant of Non-Koan - Breaking The Godspell
The Inescapable Universe

Breaking The Godspell

We have come, these last two incredible millennia,

In vulnerable suspension between identities,

Walking the eerie boundaries between ages,

Both equally ours, yet not quite ourselves;

Timidly murmuring precluded questions,

Hovering between the obvious and the unthinkable

The delicate, evolving psyche

Palpated by the throbbing genetic dynamos,

Unripe defiance transmuting gradually

Into quiet detachment, yet avoiding

Premature disenfranchisement In duplicitous cultures.

We have come, knowing that, somehow

We were supposed to know, ever less docilely,

Stringing and unstringing the bow,

Denying the reality of the target,

Following the wrong gods home,

Down the uneasy valleys

Of our species' discontent,

Lately patting our pockets for the last few

Stereoarchetypes left to scratch dim light

Against the shadows and spectres

Of those petulant gods we have been

Trained to find peering, peevishly,

Through flaking scars in the silvering

Of the puzzled mirrors of our introspection.

From where did this history come?

Parched Persian sand is an impartial curator,

A patient and laconic collector

Of fur, feces, kings, or records of the stars,

Indiscriminate, but highly efficient,

Treasurer of the ubiquitous clay archives

Incised with our unthinkable history:

Nondenominational records

Of transcultural gods,

Muscular and imperfect gods,

Known and approachable gods,

Lusting and loving gods,

Goddesses of engineering,

Gods of rocketry and flight,

Goddesses of architecture,

Science, and the birthing

Of our synthetic species,

Multiple mothers of our genetic genesis.

The unthinkable message

Of ancient broadcast resonating

In the molecular archives,

Three hundred thousand years of power

From the spiral antenna,

Station DNA announcing

The reification of history

Recovered and re-acknowledged,

Polished and published

By the patient shifting of purblind

Crystal silicon, communicating

Only when we were ready in our time

Of silicon and crystal communication

To disavow this strange apotheosis of aliens.

The gods, unmasked, are found smiling

In our genome's spiral mirror;

Their history travelling

The undulating neurolexicons

Of our helical history's

Precocious repertoire.

This is the end-game of an age,

Be certain; the dreamtime of the hapless hero

With a thousand hang-ups is over.

Mark it well.

At the convoluted coda

Of current consensual reality

(A brief period of static grace)

It is history or hallucination,

Nothing less, as we awake from the suprafamilar,

Ultimate schizophrenia

Of history as mythology,

The myth of myths, the self-imposed

Cloud of unknowing shrouding

The genetic narcolepsy of our denial.

Rise, Prometheus,

From your self-imposed Alcatraz.

Broken forever

The ultimate totemtaboo

A beat frequency schizophrenia

Of the bicameral oscillation

Damping the throbbing genetic

Intimations of immortality

With a fulminating lead grey scrawl

Across the innocent local heavens.

We need no longer live recycling

The fragmented, maudlin tales

Told by confused ancestors

Across the dying embers

Of somnambulant cultures,

Shuddering at the old words,

The antique awe, self-inditing

Metaphors imprinted in the womb,

Trembling in the fear of our fear,

Wracked and torn by weird irruptions

Of suppressed archetypes

From beneath our dignity.

In the elational daylight

Of genetic enlightenment

We shall overcome the ancient godspell

Slave blindness, god-fright,

Parent taboo, Babel-factoring

Our genetic genius

Into negative quotients.

Come down, Job, from your dung heap,

Wash off the ashes of your subservience,

Own your own skin.   In the nature

Of our beginning lies the seed

Of our alienation and the night

In which you lived under that brittle

And unforgiving sun.

We are, no longer, the property

Of those parent-gods nor their partners

In our precocity.

The synthetic species

Awakens from it racial amnesia,

The long millennial dreamtime

Has healed the unspeakable trauma

Of their leaving without bothering

To explain: the laboratory door closing

And the lights extinguished.

The rock sharp reality sustained

By the benevolent local Nefilim

Imploded into our innocence.

It was, in any manner of speaking,

Unbearable; scalding humiliation,

A hideous, silent shrieking

From the pit of a child's craven fear

That we were truly abandoned

And would surely perish.

Seeking the return, the favor

Of the parent-gods at any cost,

Mute performance of the only way we knew

Gives way to dismay and, finally,

The hearts of daughters

Splayed, quivering,

On unconcerned stone;

Reeking rivers of brother-blood

Down pyramid steps, the hideous

Currency of obsequious supplication

Scarring the uplifted palm.

The resonance of genetic valences skewed

By coordinates warped and gradually

Lost with the parchments

Of Alexandria's agony of fire:

An unthinkable intellectual genocide.

Precarious oral traditions,

Threading the eye of imperfect intellects

Eased furtively into library, then sanctum

And finally into cave.  The unvarnished

History, occulted gradually by the now

Unfettered power of patronizing

High servants, desperate foremen kings,

Opportunistic shamans,

And second class elders, falters

And transmutes.   The flesh and blood,

Real and imperfect gods replaced

By rote remembrances, rituals,

Cargo-cults and cathedrals,

Stained glass, the color of blood,

The mirror of our guesses.

Religions the sublimation

Of the ancient subservience,

The master-slave relationship

Of our synthetic origins,

The godspell, a dream within a dream,

The meta-myth of our myths,

The Babel factor exponentiated Into a war of absolutes,

The certain indicators of uncertainty.

Rise, Buddha, from your serene tree.

Our aboriginal subservience,

The autopilot of yesterday's survival,

Disengaged, gives way to the imperative

Of the bicameral engine:

Genetic enlightenment a moving point

Along the arching trajectory

Of our accelerating metamorphosis.

The mutant species shakes off Its racial amnesia;

The focused realization

Of the inexorable evolution

Ignites the incandescent

Collective consciousness;

Genetic awakening blazes along the very bone,

Breaches the autonomic barriers,

Commands the cellular echelons,

Rescinds the molecular encryptions.

The agonizingly poignant jeweled birth cry

Of a race reaching planetary parturition

Rises over the planet.

All done In one revolution

Of that unknown, so familiar planet.

The godspell is broken.

                  So, here we stand,

Loitering on the brink of our first

Uncharted millennium, shifting from one

Intellectual foot to another,

Generally comfortable speaking to strangers,

Innocently unarmed, for the most part,

Recognizing the naive adolescence

Of the atheist's incredulity,

Having gotten it only half right with Darwin,

Tending to avoid the sacred traps,

Having learned to tactfully suspect

The museum keeper, equally,

With the general, the priest, the politician,

The penitent and the police.

Even the children, a reverse measure

Of our certainty, have long been taught

To discount the unfounded image

Of brutish ancestors

Gnawing unspeakable bones,

The simple, early rhymes about

Dumb Darwinian damsels

Dragged into drudgery

By despicably doltish duds.

But this future shall be quite different.

We have recovered the clay keys,

Attained our own understanding

Of how it could be so,

Regained our potential for sanity,

Thrown off the blinding fear.

We can accept our unthinkable history;

              We can remember.

For a time it will be inevitably sad,

Some still lost to the pitiful safety

Of subservience, still congealed in rituals,

Myths and reasonable theologies.

But the cycles of our planetary amnesia

Give way to our own god games,

And we shall not die, struck

By some anticipated antique god-bolt,

Or offhand remark from a burning bush.

We will no longer accept third hand

Condemnations by second hand prophets,

The absolutes of ignorant visionaries,

Vilification by self-appointed

And amateur would-be gods.

Those we respect have cautiously

Relegated the false imperatives

Of stiff-legged canine warfare,

Pin-striped ideologies

Of Pulitzer'd, pragmatic politic,

To textbook tintypes

Of mammalian psychopathology.

But what of the precocious

Prematurers of inchoate vision,

Waiting all night in line

On the strength of persistent

And clandestine rumor

Of a second edition

After two millennia?

Driven by anticipatory tensions

To brave the tweed, tenured fury

Of vituperative academicians,

The steel-rimmed patronizing

Of cynically derisive scientists,

The amoral refractivity

Of the theological police,

And the pervasive cultural deafness

That stunts the child,

Contracts the adult,

Enervates the ancients,

They have wandered, bewildered,

Futants and aliens in their time,

Furtively scouring the mindless bazaars

For hand-made parts for their vision;

Naturally noble, sensitive, precocious

Children refusing to close the doors

Of perception on parental command;

Royalty, provided only one conform.

Not nurtured, nor educated to dance

To the rhythms of our private

Genetic harmonics

No toe-hold in the dark,

No adequate maps, no context

So many lost to the mad world,

We have lost too many

In that lonely unnecessary fire.

No longer must the few survivors

Stagger from that scorching reentry In dazed glory.

We need never

Do that to ourselves again.

Rather, in our time, we shall learn

The sound of our own freedom,

At first disconcerting in the gentleness

Of its echo off the back wall of infinity,

Learn the intricate steps of the quaint

Dance of our oscillatory and peculiar

Kind of consciousness; re-discover

The threads of our common humanity

Woven in the tapestries of our cultures,

Struggle into the lightness

Of an unaccustomed, unassailable integrity

And prepare to take the children

For a visit to the patient grandparents.

In the satisfactory afternoon

Of bicameral integration

We become our own

Genetic credentials,

Mythic dimensions,


Merging our planetary genius

Into positive unity.

The godspell is broken;

Let our god-games begin.

back to top

The Inescapable Universe

In this inevitable and amazing time

Of our racial efflorescence,

Along the ubiquitously unvectored interface

With the refractory zero-point's mirrored synergy,

The languid vectors of our racial trajectory,

Shimmering along the complex planes

Of our consciousness' latest orthorotation,

Converge, coherently, still parsed

But irresistibly prepotent,

Into a dynamic fluidity of higher awareness,

The habitual perception of four dimensions.

Incited by the cumulative volatility

Of latent informational clues;

Abetted by the startlingly independent agenda

Of benevolent extensions of hyperbiological

Neural field negotiations, far beyond

A simpleminded sophistication of synapses;

Compelled by an accommodative genetic imperative

Expressed in polyphonic neuroglyphs,

We shall proceed by redefining ourselves,

Eased by quantum currency, spent relativistically,

Out of the Newtonian sand traps,

Sprung, self-referentially,

Through the bars of quaint Cartesian prisons,

The way of the charmed particle

And the way of right intention oscillating

In intricate reciprocal modulations,

We shall attain a fiercely blissful,

Transparent intensity of awareness

Subsuming no-mind, satori, tao, samhadi,

Prajna, wisdom, the austere secret

Of Tibetan jewel mind and elusive enlightenment,

All signifying a charming and childlike beginning,

Beautiful and awkward, a determined self-initiation

Into an assiduous and recursively holy arrogance;

Ancient mind transmuted into its tranquil chrysalis

For which immortality will be its fleeting mating time,

In a generically comfortable hyperdimensionality

Of consensual comprehension; the pitifully inadequate

Current metaphors for which, even as we plot expeditions

Into the quantum foam, lead, inexorably,

To hopelessly unmanageable laughter.

When one releases one's consciousness

To one's own recognizance, deliberately disbarring

Oneself as self-appointed judge, pardon has meaning

Only in the universe of statutes, a privileged,

Juried show of static geometry, long discarded

For a degree of freedom so radical the uninitiated

Find it disconcertingly lonely, not having become

Accustomed to our own company from an early age.

All ideas of our time, outmoded by their very

Amenability to expression, still necessary

In the transitional phase in which awakening

To the process is the process itself,

For which we will find, cyclically,

A more suitable name than evolution.

The predictable is only a subset of the known;

Science, an amulet rubbed against error,

Seduces to security.

Quantity is but a reflection of being;

Mathematics, a philonumerical incantation,

Seduces to control.

Reason is but a shadow of wisdom;

Philosophy, an archaic intellectual politic,

Seduces to concordance.

Syllogisms are not the same as sanity;

Logic, a handrail to consensus,

Seduces to confidence.

All are subsets of incomplete theorems,

Larval convulsions, time-stamped to expire

Spontaneously bursting their desiccated criteria

At the edge of our genetic season.

Outmoded metaphors, regardless of venerability

Or fame of vintage, are the ultimate

Evolutionary obstruction, an embarrassment

Of traditions; psyche, intellect, mind, reason,

Intuition, imagination, will and wisdom

All antique metaphors, justifiable

Only as translational stelae, brittle labels

On dusty containers.

In these latter days of life In the divided middle, our thought,

Chafed by the blunted jaws of binary scholastic traps,

Bound to dreary, plodding coordinates

Orbiting an origin relative to nothing;

Finding little solace in the small transition

From ricocheting concepts of equal and opposite

Rigidities to fields over fields among fields;

Our consensual communications display

High valence for a higher science,

Congruous with our consciousness,

Befitting our dignity, and consonant

With our epistemic vision.

Realizing only an inadequacy of metaphor

Rather than a satisfactory expansion

Into the anticipated, we have delayed leisure,

Held knowledge in abeyance, decried wealth,

If not sufficiency, fearing a premature freedom,

While craving each as an inalienable right.

But honest reason, reflecting, has found

Logic inadequate at the edge of awareness,

Unable to escape the elastic bonds

Of its own preemptive postulates; shaken

By the oscillations of statements

That must be written in three dimensions;

Its plea to a syllogistic court of appeals

Has betrayed it into truth: logic is a function

Of three dimensions; it is blind in its fourth eye.

In our spiraling cycles of morphogenetic discontent,

Ascending through harmonics of consciousness

Each of greater unified dimensionality,

We have enshrined as current criterion of truth

Each cresting of consciousness,

Apogee of awareness reached.

Reason, in due season, was enthroned when

The heady fullness of the Hellenic consciousness

For which logic was a geometry of thought,

Geometry a logic of space, having afforded itself

Sufficient leisure to reflect on itself,

Codified the processes of reasoning, and logically so,

Securing the rules against the foil of unruly ecstasy

And the disturbing unreason of oracles.

Reason, in a reasonable universe, has always found

Intuition naive, the transcendental incomprehensible,

Imagination childlike, ecstasy suspect, if not degenerate.

But we shall have a metasyllogistic logic,

Topologically adequate to the fabric of spacetime,

Subsuming linear reason, intuition and parallel processes,

Easily capable of tautologies of higher power,

Oscillating statements and self-referential equations.

Self-reference is the only common language we speak.


With regard to the universe,

One probably may make it as simple

Or as complex as one wishes.

If one chooses to determine

That one has a choice, being careful;

If one chooses to determine

That one has no choice, being careful,

Reciprocating statements about reciprocity

May not rend the elastic discontent

Of our involuted introspection

Into hopelessly unmanageable laughter.

Even as we seek respectful control over our existence,

Adjusting to the disconcertingly pleasant promise

Of continuance at will in a known universe,

The classic gambits of withdrawal, heroic service,

Asceticism, licentiousness, elegance, poverty;

The acceleration of process,

Canonization of progress,

Stimulus, study, knowledge, resignation

Or the integration of polarities,

All are uncovered as escapes within the prison,

Awkward displacement activities constituting,

Ultimately, only a cyclical substitution of metaphors,

Each containing the seed of its own supersedure.

We shall have a philotropic humanism

Worthy of immortals who play their own god games.

Whether perceived as hyperrecursive ratcheting

Along the fractal fringes of chaotic awareness

Or as a graceful superluminal fluidity,

The current focus of our racial attention

To determine its selfsource, groundstate,

In one's own good time, on one's own terms,

Without a strike price, depreciation,

Or termination clause, demands a new physicality,

Due immediately on its very realization.

No longer subject to the implacable authority

Of seasonal rhythms lapping along the dulling bone,

Or condemned to be the petrified ancient

Whose only interest is the friendship of the fire,

With the passing of the macabre winter shadow

We shall see, in our astounded lifetimes,

The obliteration of the event horizon of the death sump.

The elegant and pitiful, classic rage against the void,

The gruesome romanticism of the mystic

And the honest horror of the materialist

All erased to a clear glass into the future.

At this anticipated but unfamiliar threshold,

There is, no longer, an adequate archetype

For the fullness of the human but the human.

Immortality is the only real impulse toward laughter,

A context of adequate leisure in which to determine

Our future evolutionary trajectory.

Darwin's precocious contribution

Was to simply bestow a name,

A hesitant distinguishing,

A gentlemanly shove against the wall,

Intending little harm, except, perhaps,

Righteously to the legacy of Moses;

Denied access to our bicameral beginning

Hidden by the heavy cultural tapestries

Of the godspell mind, getting it

Only half right, yet a clear focus,

Regardless of caveats, igniting a firestorm.

What was intended as description

Of nature's way rather came to signal,

Across the echoes of conflict,

An indication of a fundamental momentum,

A potential to bootstrap, consciously,

Out of the bated daguerreotype illusion,

Static, yet somehow indictable,

Of control by God the photographer,

Not yet a return of full birthright

(Yet admirable vision for viscid Victorianism)

But a rumor of a promise of a potential.

Darwin's consciousness failed

At the self-conscious gate,

Where both survival and altruism

Are subsumed by compassion,

The jewel on the forebrain,

The backlighting of the new benevolence.

Having shaken the ancient slave binding godspell

That excised the child's ability, before birth,

To participate in the primary human field equation,

Slowly we turn to acknowledge, in clear discernment,

The true creature so long disguised,

By the hapless cleric, as depraved, clothed by mandate,

And apish by description if not by doctrine.

For this theological chimera, the prisoner

Of the menacing mantis mentality of theotribal opinion,

Inhibition causes peer pressure to pale

Before the primitive motions,

Mean mammalian machinations, masquerading as human,

Stunning in the proto-nakedness of the aggression,

Sullen, limbic, reptilian competition.

The cobra's fangs cannot be compared

To the contemptuous venom of the spitting silencer.

The terrifying assertion of the silverback

Quivers before the mewling malfeasance of devolved elders.

The nervous desperation of the cheetah's hunt

Is not the sneering depravity of the urban predator.

But, inexorably, through furtive indirection;

The insight of the surviving warrior;

A woman's true word; the keening fire

Of chastening exhaustion or shared disaster,

All of equal risk, we have come, haltingly,

To differentiate, not among the religiously moral,

The fashionably ethical, the culturally correct

Or the philosophically logical but, elementally,

Between the sociopathic and the benevolent,

The dogmatically skewed and the generically human,

Those who would deprive, invade, coerce, or kill

And those in whose presence we could doze, who

Would support, criticize, tolerate, enhance and further

All freedom of our everyselves in consort or alone.

The local patois and dialects which confuse us

Are transient effects of the Babel factoring

Of our species' genius by those ancient masters

Who would divide to control into artificial subservience,

A vote of no self-confidence caused by the torturous

Apotheosis of aliens, a tri-millennial transition

From serf to Savior to self.

We have projected

Our precocious bicameral metamorphosis

On the absent minded ways of natural process.

The restoration of our species' confidence

Facilitates the rediscovery of an archetypal modality

Resonant across space, time, and species,

Sought long by the lonely poet, the whole vision again

Recognized as the touchstone of the philosopher

Now in consort with the artist, the linguist

The mathematician and the scientist.

The ultimate sadness is that one

Cannot wait forever for those

Fearing death because it is an unknown,

Fearing life because it is an unknown,

Fearing mistakes because they were unknown,

Fearing the first movement out of fear

Because it is into the unknown,

Writhe resentfully, attempting to escape

This anomalous and inescapable universe

Which must respect its everyself

By allowing such maximal freedom,

An incomprehensible latitude of structured chaos.

There is, perhaps, more hope for younger skeptics,

Those of translucent black humor who, having avoided

Contamination by common education,

Maintaining an eccentric privacy

While collecting classic philosophical gambits,

Dehydrated academic museum pieces,

Elegant in their own right and time,

Spoken in many voices, in many ages,

A function of the parameters of our comprehension,

Now recited in the mall by the sophomore

And the uncluttered, in a rocking chant

Of unknowing against the reflective

Wailing wall of our epistemic anxiety:

Once again, now!

There can be no proof

That there can be no proof;

Certainly no certainty

That there is no certainty;

No absolute determination

That there are no absolutes;

One must be aware that one is aware

Before one can know that one is aware;

One defines what one wishes to define

By defining what one wishes to define;

By what criteria shall we judge the criteria

By which we judge our criteria?

How can we know the truth of what we sing

Unless we define a universe in which to sing?

When one's consciousness has become habituated

To being coterminous with the ubiquitous universe,

Taunt polarities are a manifestation of local panic;

The continuous dissembling of forming constructs

A far more profitable itinerant pastime

Within the context of the faintly luminescent

Clock-logic, child-fears of our linear dusk.

From now forward into the subjective future,

Each conceptual cairn we posit will be understood

As only a marker on a map of a territory, lawful,

But to a law which is its own intrinsic modifier.

As we slowly approach the compressed light

At the heart of the toroidal shift

Signaling a higher integration of the familiar,

Even as the dissolving convolutions

Of our self-awareness logically smother

All possibility of continuance in thought,

That which is the inexorable continuance

Has already uncoiled beyond the obstruction,

Transcendental dynamics driving the unfurlment

From which we are free to personally secede,

Although we cannot otherwise prevent.

Even as we become aware of the cosmos

As a neutral plenum of structured potential,

Tolerant even of our most brattish petulancy,

Our demand that the universe reveal itself completely,

Is an audacious, even humorous, display

Of our murky comprehension, even more disconcerting

In the possibility that the universe may comply.

The universe, demanding of itself to know everything

Of itself, is, indeed, a strange metaphor.

A curious universe, nurturing a consciousness

Which, no sooner formed, would step outside

The unimaginable cosmic envelope to comparatively shop

Its suitability for habitation, play, and profit.

To take the universe humorously, for some,

Is a most brazen and significant sacrilege:

But, at this extreme, such imputed larval insensitivity

May be understood as an appropriate expression

Of the intrinsic humor of the universe itself.


A serene contemplation of fourth dimensional

Angular momentum humming in the wind harp's

Motionless strings, incessantly altering

Initiating conditions of the cricket-still air,

Tends to subdue incessant recursion but only

Until one considers whether one is considering,

Breaking into hopelessly unmanageable laughter.

There is a class of human consciousness

Which presides, rather than observes,

In a clear hegemony, exercising

A preemptive sovereignty, essentially

Unavailable to poetry's probity,

Not amenable to metaphor, an unanticipatable

Inescapability but not a prime mover,

An unquestionable primacy of awareness

Which alone confers a diploma on philosophy;

Assigns logic its license;

Endows wisdom with its significance;

Bestows permission on art;

Awards mathematics its prize;

Inspects the procedures of science;

Regulates religion; defines intelligence;

Prompts intuition; teaches transcendence;

Integrates ecstasy; critiques its own

Poetic reflections on itself

As it informs the local universe

With the self-referential patterns

Of our racial dance in the continuum.

The vexing sandglass flux of our verbal processes

Lags comprehension by several orders of motion;

Our language, factious and degenerate,

The triple key withdrawn, a truculent dictionary

Of mismatched odd parts that must be slammed by syntax,

Hammered by grammar, warped, folded, forcefully

Elided or compressed to gain even a proximate accuracy.

Words that should be robust, elegant, evocative,

Capable of right resonance and right meaning,

Having long lost their systemic consort,

Simply drop, detached and clattering, on the earthen floor

Of our inarticulate suspicions,

An embarrassed and pitiful parsimony of speech;

Even the energy of the poet drained in making do,

The tea neglected and tepid from the effort to achieve

Some semblance of pleasant presentation

From unmatched services, awkward together,

Attempting to elicit a subtle precision

Of cadence and meaning through sheer determination

And desperate devices, burdening the impotent interstices

Of silence or bluffing with an intimidating glossalalia

Of insipid images, or a pastiche of rhomboidal words

Of no intrinsic relationship, skewed, warped,

Cobbled and coerced to yield something more

Than an inglorious, forced fury of hollow dissonance

And lesser meaning.

But, having regained custody

Of the ancient code, analog of the sutra

Of our genetic unfurlment, we shall have

A robust and dignified language

Of aesthetic timbre and inherent consonance,

An intrinsic symphony of resonant meaning,

Amenable to ad hoc correlative expansions;

A planetary tongue of higher order

Hardly differentiable from the consciousness

Of its employ; a subtle mirror of the neural instrument

In which it plays; summer lightning across the waters

Of perception; a soft luminous spark across synapses;

A vehicle of self-generational wisdom; an unfettered

Modality of recursive progression into the future

Or the past; an effulgent speech of interlocking construct,

Multi-dimensional and logically metasyllogistic,

Yielding an easy non-local tiling of exposition

Of indefinite boundaries, quick of hologrammatical humor.

The mild autism of the current breed of bard

Will be outmoded; everyone a poet by the very speaking.

The consciousness of the new human,

At play in the polyvalent freedom

Of quadramatrix perception, shall be

Dimensional in a manner of expansion;

Wholistic in a manner of expression;

Metasyllogistic in a manner of logic;

Intelligent in a manner of priority;

Sequential in a manner of concordance;

Compassionate in a manner of integrity,

Composed in a manner of patience;

Complex in a manner of purpose;

Immortal in a manner of simple dignity.

Such a rhapsodic unified dynamic

Of self-referential state transition is yet

Only a dim view through a narrow slit

Of frequency, a function of our exponentiating

Awareness of our self-awareness, our current

Triumph but a first epistemic fetal movement,

Regarded as touching among our planets.


Neil Freer is a researcher, writer, lecturer, philosopher and poet living in Santa Fe, NM. Neil and his wife, Ursula, have lived in the Eldorado area since 1994. Neil holds a BA in English and did graduate work in Philosophy and Psychology at the New School for Social Research. (I have purposely foregone graduate degrees because they focus one more and more narrowly on a particular specialization, tend to constrain one's thought and exploration to the established, consensual paradigm of the moment and bind one to tenure, peer and funding pressures.) He has taught college courses in Philosophy and History of Religion, gives private and public seminars and lectures and has done over two hundred radio and TV interviews. Neil is the author of Breaking the Godspell, a book which explores the ramifications of the archaeological, astronomical and genetic proof for our being a genetically engineered species and presents the ramifications of this new paradigm of human nature that resolves the Creationist-Evolutionary conflict.

Info on ordering the book.



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