Monday, April 17, 2006
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Little ones seem to be the theme today.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Friday, April 14, 2006
my new BLOGGER BLOG BLOG BLOG...
SHIT!!! david had me all worried! LOL...
all i did was post a new blog entry. i didn't screw things up as much as i thought i did.
okay, now that i'm more relaxed... let it be known that i have my own BLOG.
*james, it's not that one you posted on the other day. i mean, yeah, it's still there but i'm not using it cuz it's poo-poo. :p
The Art of Greg Oakes is the official page now. please come visit!
go
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Royal Canadian Dragoons
During the late 17th and early 18th centuries a dragoon was traditionally a soldier trained to fight on foot, but transport himself on horseback. In other words, he moved as cavalry but fought as infantry. The name derives from the dragoon's primary weapon, a carbine or short musket called the dragon. Sometimes, dragon carbines are said to have been so-called because they "breathed fire" — a reference to the smoke they emitted when fired.
The Dragoons
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
left of the six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
left of the six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.
Lucky Lager News
One odd SIDE EFFECT of frequent rambling is that whenever you wake up there's always a few moments of confusion before you remember where you are. It's a funny feeling. Quite blessed really. You just came from the dreaming world, then all of a sudden you are awake in the waking dream world and for a second even the real world is devoid of reference from the past. Like a baby. Where am I?
Im in Winnipeg now and Winnipeg is great. So comforting and secure and easy. Best music. I miss all the people in the other cities but Truly I wish they would all just come home already. Back to the prairie womb. Summer 2006!
Many Baby references Many babies. Most especially the youngling Dru who's miniscule image is peaking out groggily from the label fridge. That's the youngest person I had ever seen!.Congratulations Dru on your arrival and your successful passing from first the indescribable nothing, on to thestrange pink ocean, finally passing through the gate of pain into our land of the living breathing color noise. Keep up the good work.
Last night was cinnamon and nutmeg lucky lager I CAN STILL DRAW A CROWD. Debra Lyn Big Dave among others. Highlight was Debra Lyn and the wee Brahn Krahn on drums playing You are my Sunshine to a gaping cuteness-stunned decent sized label crowd.
In other news Jose got signed on with some band this summer and will be going on tour! In other news he missed his exam. I think that he's probably the coolest guy in town based on the way whenever he's not around everyone's always talking about his doings. Way to weave the aura of mystery dude, works everytime. Way to go. You get to be class president for this month.
Way to Hustle!
KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK
Im in Winnipeg now and Winnipeg is great. So comforting and secure and easy. Best music. I miss all the people in the other cities but Truly I wish they would all just come home already. Back to the prairie womb. Summer 2006!
Many Baby references Many babies. Most especially the youngling Dru who's miniscule image is peaking out groggily from the label fridge. That's the youngest person I had ever seen!.Congratulations Dru on your arrival and your successful passing from first the indescribable nothing, on to thestrange pink ocean, finally passing through the gate of pain into our land of the living breathing color noise. Keep up the good work.
Last night was cinnamon and nutmeg lucky lager I CAN STILL DRAW A CROWD. Debra Lyn Big Dave among others. Highlight was Debra Lyn and the wee Brahn Krahn on drums playing You are my Sunshine to a gaping cuteness-stunned decent sized label crowd.
In other news Jose got signed on with some band this summer and will be going on tour! In other news he missed his exam. I think that he's probably the coolest guy in town based on the way whenever he's not around everyone's always talking about his doings. Way to weave the aura of mystery dude, works everytime. Way to go. You get to be class president for this month.
Way to Hustle!
KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
I, Spy
I had this one framed
with glass. I painted
on top of the glass to
further define the
image with shadows.
Then it fell off the table.
I`m not going to use
the cracked glass
(cliche' of a cheap artist)
and I doubt I`ll replace the glass
(as I am a cheap artist).
I do miss his wandering shadow eye
though.
Reach
Reaching in
a centre that
is not there
telling of itself
without it
being there;
reach and touch
the faith
of the telling
that is not there
a centre that
is not there
telling of itself
without it
being there;
reach and touch
the faith
of the telling
that is not there
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
AskingWhy
Looking for periods
and references
you want particular
and failed way the wonder
of it all diverse and free
as asking for banality
to finish off the knots
you try and tie
with soft spaghetti
thoughts and sterile
liquid dreams
and references
you want particular
and failed way the wonder
of it all diverse and free
as asking for banality
to finish off the knots
you try and tie
with soft spaghetti
thoughts and sterile
liquid dreams
Monday, April 10, 2006
LivingBreathingPrayer
Living breathing prayer
on royal voyage
to the pictures
in your room
It was a lovely
tome of sound
on royal voyage to
living breathing prayer
on royal voyage
to the pictures
in your room
It was a lovely
tome of sound
on royal voyage to
living breathing prayer
Anymore
There's no feel
to this anymore
Architects of dreaming
mentioning beauty
and all the love
in the world
I have lost the feel
of this anymore
to this anymore
Architects of dreaming
mentioning beauty
and all the love
in the world
I have lost the feel
of this anymore
Saturday, April 08, 2006
From the files of Maximo vs. Krahn.
I am going to make this short but sweet: Mr. Josey Krahn, Esq.'s witticisms are complete drivel. If you don't believe me, see for yourself. Here's a quick review: Mr. Krahn teaches workshops on simplism. Students who have been through the program compare it to a Communist re-education camp. He is the embodiment of everything petty in our lives. Every grievance, every envy, every meddlesome ideology finds expression in Josey Krahn. I may not be perfect, but at least I'm not afraid to say that some of his fibs raise important questions about future social interactions and their relationship to civil liberties, and everyone with half a brain understands that. What Mr. Krahn doesn't realize is that he either is or elects to be ignorant of scientific principles and methods. Mr. Krahn even intentionally misuses scientific terminology to condone universal oppression.
The nettlesome ruffianism I've been writing about is not primarily the fault of unctuous, querulous politicasters, nor of the destructive, reprehensible malingerers who engulf the world in a dense miasma of fetishism. It is the fault of Josey Krahn. I like to face facts. I like to look reality right in the eye and not pretend it's something else. And the reality of our present situation is this: He has announced his intentions to devalue me as a person. While doing so may earn Mr. Krahn a gold star from the mush-for-brains opportunism crowd, I've never bothered him. Yet he wants to steal the fruits of other people's labor. Whatever happened to "live and let live"? Whenever there's an argument about Mr. Krahn's devotion to principles and to freedom, all one has to do is point out that what our nation needs is more respect for the law, not less. That should settle the argument pretty quickly.
Mr. Krahn presents himself as a disinterested classicist lamenting the infusion of politically motivated methods of pedagogy and analysis into higher education. He is eloquent in his denunciation of modern scholarship, claiming it favors malignant dopeheads. And here we have the ultimate irony, because his eccentricity is surpassed only by his vanity. And Mr. Krahn's vanity is surpassed only by his empty theorizing. (Remember his theory that his sermons are Holy Writ?) Nature is a wonderful teacher. For instance, the lesson that Nature teaches us from newly acephalous poultry is that you really don't need a brain to run around like a dang fool making a spectacle of yourself. Nature also teaches us that Mr. Krahn is like a pigeon. Pigeons are too self-absorbed to care about anyone else. They poo on people they don't like; they poo on people they don't even know. The only real difference between Mr. Krahn and a pigeon is that Mr. Krahn intends to tell us how to live, what to say, what to think, what to know, and -- most importantly -- what not to know. That's why to believe that we should all bear the brunt of Mr. Krahn's actions is to deceive ourselves.
Naive varmints are more susceptible to Mr. Krahn's brainwashing tactics than are any other group. Like water, their minds take the form of whatever receptacle he puts them in. They then lose all recollection that I try never to argue with Mr. Krahn, because it's clear he's not susceptible to reason. There's one thing you can indeed say about him: He has a sense of humor. He was being a real comedian when he told us that women are crazed Pavlovian sex-dogs who will salivate at any object even remotely phallic in shape.
When you tell Mr. Krahn's satraps that writing instructors seeking to introduce the concept of "priggism" into their curricula could hardly do better than to use Mr. Krahn's ruses as an example, they begin to get fidgety, and their eyes begin to wander. They really don't care. They have no interest in hearing that his list of sins is long and each one deserves more space than I have here. Therefore, rather than describe each one individually, I'll summarize by stating that the first lies that Mr. Krahn told us were relatively benign. Still, they have been progressing. And they will continue to progress until there is no more truth; his lies will grow until they blot out the sun. Unless we reinforce the contentions of all reasonable people and confute those of irrational card sharks, no real changes will ever occur. Equally important is the fact that Mr. Krahn's more than mindless. He's mega-mindless. In fact, to understand just how mindless Mr. Krahn is, you first need to realize that I am not trying to save the world -- I gave up that pursuit a long time ago. But I am trying to suggest the kind of politics and policies that are needed to restore good sense to this important debate. You might say, "He is as uncivilized as he is barbaric." Fine, I agree. But he takes things out of context, twists them around, and then neglects to provide decent referencing so the reader can check up on him. Mr. Krahn also ignores all of the evidence that doesn't support (or in many cases directly contradicts) his position. Every time Mr. Josey Krahn, Esq. attempts to write off whole sections of society, I feel a surge of pure, unadulterated hatred flow through my body. And that's all I have to say.
Sincerely,
The Baron,
Don Von Maximo
http://www.pakin.org/complaint/
The nettlesome ruffianism I've been writing about is not primarily the fault of unctuous, querulous politicasters, nor of the destructive, reprehensible malingerers who engulf the world in a dense miasma of fetishism. It is the fault of Josey Krahn. I like to face facts. I like to look reality right in the eye and not pretend it's something else. And the reality of our present situation is this: He has announced his intentions to devalue me as a person. While doing so may earn Mr. Krahn a gold star from the mush-for-brains opportunism crowd, I've never bothered him. Yet he wants to steal the fruits of other people's labor. Whatever happened to "live and let live"? Whenever there's an argument about Mr. Krahn's devotion to principles and to freedom, all one has to do is point out that what our nation needs is more respect for the law, not less. That should settle the argument pretty quickly.
Mr. Krahn presents himself as a disinterested classicist lamenting the infusion of politically motivated methods of pedagogy and analysis into higher education. He is eloquent in his denunciation of modern scholarship, claiming it favors malignant dopeheads. And here we have the ultimate irony, because his eccentricity is surpassed only by his vanity. And Mr. Krahn's vanity is surpassed only by his empty theorizing. (Remember his theory that his sermons are Holy Writ?) Nature is a wonderful teacher. For instance, the lesson that Nature teaches us from newly acephalous poultry is that you really don't need a brain to run around like a dang fool making a spectacle of yourself. Nature also teaches us that Mr. Krahn is like a pigeon. Pigeons are too self-absorbed to care about anyone else. They poo on people they don't like; they poo on people they don't even know. The only real difference between Mr. Krahn and a pigeon is that Mr. Krahn intends to tell us how to live, what to say, what to think, what to know, and -- most importantly -- what not to know. That's why to believe that we should all bear the brunt of Mr. Krahn's actions is to deceive ourselves.
Naive varmints are more susceptible to Mr. Krahn's brainwashing tactics than are any other group. Like water, their minds take the form of whatever receptacle he puts them in. They then lose all recollection that I try never to argue with Mr. Krahn, because it's clear he's not susceptible to reason. There's one thing you can indeed say about him: He has a sense of humor. He was being a real comedian when he told us that women are crazed Pavlovian sex-dogs who will salivate at any object even remotely phallic in shape.
When you tell Mr. Krahn's satraps that writing instructors seeking to introduce the concept of "priggism" into their curricula could hardly do better than to use Mr. Krahn's ruses as an example, they begin to get fidgety, and their eyes begin to wander. They really don't care. They have no interest in hearing that his list of sins is long and each one deserves more space than I have here. Therefore, rather than describe each one individually, I'll summarize by stating that the first lies that Mr. Krahn told us were relatively benign. Still, they have been progressing. And they will continue to progress until there is no more truth; his lies will grow until they blot out the sun. Unless we reinforce the contentions of all reasonable people and confute those of irrational card sharks, no real changes will ever occur. Equally important is the fact that Mr. Krahn's more than mindless. He's mega-mindless. In fact, to understand just how mindless Mr. Krahn is, you first need to realize that I am not trying to save the world -- I gave up that pursuit a long time ago. But I am trying to suggest the kind of politics and policies that are needed to restore good sense to this important debate. You might say, "He is as uncivilized as he is barbaric." Fine, I agree. But he takes things out of context, twists them around, and then neglects to provide decent referencing so the reader can check up on him. Mr. Krahn also ignores all of the evidence that doesn't support (or in many cases directly contradicts) his position. Every time Mr. Josey Krahn, Esq. attempts to write off whole sections of society, I feel a surge of pure, unadulterated hatred flow through my body. And that's all I have to say.
Sincerely,
The Baron,
Don Von Maximo
http://www.pakin.org/complaint/
Friday, April 07, 2006
New Nightmares
Bird in a Glass Box
carry me out of sight
racing hurried mind
smiling, shivering spine
press lightly and hold
firm horrid gas mask
indifferent operating table
thanks for all the sleep
pain, and splintered memory
Piggy-Boy Tributary
little pig, little pig
playing carefully
let fenrir
rend your ear
till ragnarok sounds
so sweet.
i beg the waters
no more please
drowning genius
hum-bl-ly
let the wolf in
let retribution begin
carry me out of sight
racing hurried mind
smiling, shivering spine
press lightly and hold
firm horrid gas mask
indifferent operating table
thanks for all the sleep
pain, and splintered memory
Piggy-Boy Tributary
little pig, little pig
playing carefully
let fenrir
rend your ear
till ragnarok sounds
so sweet.
i beg the waters
no more please
drowning genius
hum-bl-ly
let the wolf in
let retribution begin
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Happy Birthday David! - 33 Portraits of David Macri
Each like a candle on a birthday cake, but more like sparks of creativity, reinforcing to ignite wonderful ideas.
Thank you to those images which were borrowed (your CARFAC fees are in the mail)
"Life is a circus." David Macri
(I'm sure David has some other quotes, anyone else got any I can add? David?)
To a wonderful friend, artist, salamander specialist, teacher, stilter, and snorkler.
Love you man.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Glyph of manifestation
"In intoxication, physical or spiritual, the initiate recovers an intensity of feeling which prudence had destroyed; he finds the world full of delight and beauty, and his imagination is suddenly liberated from the prison of everyday preoccupations. The Bacchic ritual produced what was called 'enthusiasm', which means etymologically having the god enter the worshipper, who believed that he became one with the god."
Monday, April 03, 2006
For just a moment
Let's
exist
more happy than
warm finger caresses
more sad than
tounge twisted sambas
more relentless than
morose bravado
more restless than
sheet wrapped legs
more ingnited than
flame doused pleasures
more real than
ache filled spaces.
more bitter than
sweet spilled graces
exist
more happy than
warm finger caresses
more sad than
tounge twisted sambas
more relentless than
morose bravado
more restless than
sheet wrapped legs
more ingnited than
flame doused pleasures
more real than
ache filled spaces.
more bitter than
sweet spilled graces
Auto-Prophecy: Portal of Manifestation
It's necessary to put myself out there, especially if I want to get ahead at work. While my projects alone should put me in the spotlight, I may need to grease the wheels just a bit to get my acclaim.
My loved ones know they can count on me for just about anything --I've always remembered the necessities and niceties that everyone else lets slide. If they ask, I'll let them in on my secret.
I bask in the comforting rituals of family, friends and home. Right now my senses are heightened, and they allow me to perceive the everyday miracles I might otherwise miss. I have so much to be thankful for.
When I let them, people can really surprise me in some very pleasant ways. The trick is to keep an open mind -- and not try and do everything for them just so that I can feel like I'm in charge.
I've gone as far as I can on a big project. Now it's time to find a wise elder who can guide me the rest of the way. I won't hesitate to join forces with someone I previously never would have considered.
It's crunch time for me. I will put aside all distractions and inform loved ones that I may be incommunicado for a while. My goal is within reach, and I'll need to concentrate all my forces to reach it.
My loved ones know they can count on me for just about anything --I've always remembered the necessities and niceties that everyone else lets slide. If they ask, I'll let them in on my secret.
I bask in the comforting rituals of family, friends and home. Right now my senses are heightened, and they allow me to perceive the everyday miracles I might otherwise miss. I have so much to be thankful for.
When I let them, people can really surprise me in some very pleasant ways. The trick is to keep an open mind -- and not try and do everything for them just so that I can feel like I'm in charge.
I've gone as far as I can on a big project. Now it's time to find a wise elder who can guide me the rest of the way. I won't hesitate to join forces with someone I previously never would have considered.
It's crunch time for me. I will put aside all distractions and inform loved ones that I may be incommunicado for a while. My goal is within reach, and I'll need to concentrate all my forces to reach it.
Full Circle
Im in Toronto now, soon to be in Montreal completing the full circle of my trip. Winnipeg was good. My sister's got a baby here. Can't wait to see all the people in French Town and the new youngling there.
Im going through my photos and videos now. This is a sunset in Dharamsala. What should I do with it all? Ive got some crazy footage.
Im going through my photos and videos now. This is a sunset in Dharamsala. What should I do with it all? Ive got some crazy footage.
Sunspot
Essence
The thunder made its sound
and there were 40 days of wonder
in the light of what came out
as the crude oil essence spattered
in a joyous maze around the possibility
and fear of what was and will not be
and the things that are and ever
will be dominicus, dominicus
joyous, joyous
and life came
to rest
and there were 40 days of wonder
in the light of what came out
as the crude oil essence spattered
in a joyous maze around the possibility
and fear of what was and will not be
and the things that are and ever
will be dominicus, dominicus
joyous, joyous
and life came
to rest
The Manitoba Arts Militia
During the marches, hundreds of people dressed in green fatigues and green body paint were seen running through the streets of Winnipeg.
Performing good deeds, acts of mimicry and acts of noble mischief, when these men and women were questioned about their behavior during the demonstration, most answered that they felt justified in their actions. "Art reinforcement mam! Top priority mam!", said one arts militia member.
When asked about who was behind the movement, they retorted, "With the Manitoba Arts Militia involuntary membership program now in full affect, if you've heard about the MAM, you've instantly been made a member. So in answer to your question, you're behind it!"
The involuntary general of the MAM, Jeff Funnell, was unable to be reached for comment.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Inevitable Dream
Whispering clouds of the free
placing theories down
No weaknesses in this plan
love electric down
Rising diamonds
of neon counter-schemes
Fighting inevitable dreams
given of times in-between
placing theories down
No weaknesses in this plan
love electric down
Rising diamonds
of neon counter-schemes
Fighting inevitable dreams
given of times in-between
The Same
The tree reached towards the cloud
understanding its proportion
and the blessed rage of wonder
The flock calmly vacated position
knowing all returns
of the memories that are had
This time it's just the same
understanding its proportion
and the blessed rage of wonder
The flock calmly vacated position
knowing all returns
of the memories that are had
This time it's just the same
P. K. Page poem
Posted for Daniel aka The Baron Don Von Maximo
Landscape of Love
Where the bog ends, there, where the ground lips, lovely
is love, not lonely.
Land is
love, round with it, where the hand is;
wide with love, cleared scrubland, grain
on a coin.
Oh, the wheatfield, the rock-bound rubble;
the untouched hills
as a thigh smooth;
the meadow.
Not only the poor soil lovely, the outworn prairie,
but the green upspringing,
the lark-land,
the promontory.
A lung-born land, this,
a breath spilling,
scanned by the valvular heart,
the field glasses.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
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