{"id":877,"date":"2013-04-20T23:34:09","date_gmt":"2013-04-20T21:34:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=877"},"modified":"2013-05-03T02:29:41","modified_gmt":"2013-05-03T00:29:41","slug":"28-incoherence","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-ph-solo\/28-incoherence\/","title":{"rendered":"28. Incoherence"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\n(When Language Corrodes)<\/strong><\/p>\n

And when language corrodes
\nall our faculties falter and blur.
\nNobody knows how our tongues got so swollen and furred.
\nWhat truths are there left to be told
\nwhen we’re all lost for words?<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(Babel)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Words upon words
\nstack the tower of Babel
\nbrick on brick on straw on clay
\nbut a whispering stirs
\nand the structure’s unstable
\nwhen all the scaffold’s stripped away.
\nWe’re ever quick to aver
\nthat we are ready and able
\nbut we can’t say what’s coming, come what may.<\/p>\n

By definition self-obsessed
\nwe strive to make ourselves plain
\nwith words that pass the acid test
\nwith passive thought in train.<\/p>\n

Words upon words,
\nfiction, folly and fable,
\neach pregnant pause a dead giveaway…
\nploughing on undeterred
\nas the sell-bys expire on our labels
\nthough at length we’ll have little or nothing to say
\nit would be too absurd
\nto spend life all agaze at our navels –
\noh, we’ve got such limited time to go on and explain.<\/p>\n

So, running off at the mouth,
\nwe all get carried away
\nuncertain when it all goes south
\nif we mean what we say.<\/p>\n

If we mean what we say….<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(Logodaedalus)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Logorrhea
\nindependent of the brain
\nnot a moment to reflect
\nonly time to wick up the gain
\nwhat was he thinking of and
\nwhy did he dream he could convey a bright idea?
\nWhile his tongue was wagging
\nhe forgot to use the space between his ears.<\/p>\n

Logodaedalus
\nwith the cunning of a fox
\npaint him devious
\nin the corner of the room,
\npop Pandora out of her box.
\nWhat is he on about and
\nwhy are his arguments so needlessly arcane
\nin their brilliance?
\nHe’s close to appearing more than slightly inane
\nwith his crooked logic
\nand his dog-eared dictionary close to hand….
\nI don’t think he’s got it
\nbut he’s insistent that we’re going to understand
\nhis complete precision;
\nin the end he’s certain that we’ll all agree
\nwith his definition…
\nan obsolescent word from 1663.<\/p>\n

That says it all for me.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(Like perfume)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Once spoken,
\nwords perfume the air
\nlike woodsmoke, like a breath of self that’s no longer there.
\nSuch confidence,
\nsuch half-baked truth…
\nthe sound of distant voices mocks the hubris of youth.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(Your word)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Burnt the bridges, burnt the tread;
\nthe sodden syllables are turned.
\nYou can’t take back what you said
\nwhen you give your word.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(Always and a day)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Always and a day
\nwe swore in common vow
\nthat tomorrow we would stay
\nthe same as now,
\nthe same as now.<\/p>\n

In every future verb
\nwe deny our own „Until”;
\nthis the promise that we serve –
\nwe have time to kill:
\nI will, I will,
\nI will, I will,
\nI will, I will<\/p>\n

always and a day.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(Cretans always lie)<\/strong><\/p>\n

It’s impossible to trace
\nthese words in carbon paper trail
\nfor just as Zeno’s arrow flies the snake is eating its tail.<\/p>\n

And in contradictory style
\nthe soldier and the steer attend
\naround the mark of the five hundred all in charge of a friend.<\/p>\n

„The Cretans always lie”
\nclaims the Cretan.
\nThe Cretans always lie.<\/p>\n

A kiss the gift from hell
\nlight, the poison pillow, dear…
\nand as we gag on it translation smacks of something like<\/p>\n

„Cretans always lie”
\nclaims the Cretan;
\n„Of Cretan stock am I,
\nam I Cretan?”<\/p>\n

Why don’t we hook this old short circuit to the value of Pi?<\/p>\n

„Cretans always lie”
\nclaims the Cretan;
\n„Of Cretan stock am I,
\n(so) am I Cretan?”
\nAnd Zeno’s arrow flies,
\nthrough the ether.<\/p>\n

Come on…let’s see how the paradox flies.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(All Greek)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Fried up the brain
\nwith rhetorical questions
\ndictionary games
\nand conundrums ear to ear.
\nWhen we say what we think
\ndo we think what we’re saying’s
\nmissing a link,
\ninconsistent in idea?
\n(in internal stage whispers
\nwordless the script
\ngetting lost in contradictory talk….)
\nLosing the thread
\n(in a set of stage whispers)
\n„It’s nothing”… (he said)
\nIf I meant that it would say it all.
\n(Spoken, the lines are misshapen….)
\nspeaking my mind
\nbut the mind that thinks out loud’s not thinking straight at all.<\/p>\n

All my ideas formed entirely without words
\nspeechlessly, you get the picture?<\/p>\n

ne, oxi, oxi, endax’
\nhai, iie, iie, redact….<\/p>\n

All greek to me, all in double dutch phrases,
\ncacophony of linguistic dismay,
\norotund talk and the sound of my voice is
\nfractured and forced;
\nI can’t get out what I mean to say,
\nparroted lines all misshapen…
\nspeaking my mind
\nbut the mind that thinks out loud is close to blown away.<\/p>\n

And when ideas come entirely without words
\ntheir purity is unalloyed
\neven to ourselves unspoken is unheard
\nand so we try to give them voice
\nbut languages have all evolved to meet the needs
\nof every individual culture
\nso with every syntax that we press them to we see
\ntheir essences adulterated…<\/p>\n

ne, oxi, oxi, endax’
\nhai, iie, iie, redact….<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(Call that a Conversation?)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Oh, spit it out, there’s no way we’ll see eye to eye –
\nmy simple truth is your warped confusion;
\nas off different planets we spin eccentric jive.<\/p>\n

I don’t remember what I said
\nI don’t think you do either.<\/p>\n

Slippery of tongue though you claim my speech may be
\nall of the words you’ve been putting in my mouth just flatter to deceive.<\/p>\n

I never said the half of that
\nyou’re utterly mistaken
\ncall that a conversation?<\/p>\n

Yeah, you said it,
\nall my meaning, quite misread it…
\nthis conversation let’s forget it now.<\/p>\n

I can’t believe what you just said
\ncall this a conversation?<\/p>\n

Let’s call it quits,
\nlet’s just say it’s
\na measure of the distance between our worlds.<\/p>\n

I don’t remember what I said,
\nI don’t think you do either;
\nyou make what you will of meaning –
\ncall that a conversation?<\/p>\n

More likely just the space between words
\nwhen the meanings have all changed.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(The Meanings Changed)<\/strong><\/p>\n

From the first word that I said to the last
\nsome strange echo remains
\nimprinted in the walls
\nrecorded in the vaults
\nwe talked and tunneled through
\nbut the meanings have all changed.<\/p>\n

Because of all I said
\nyou began to regard me as strange
\nuntil with some relief
\nyou suspended disbelief
\nI tried to tell the truth
\nbut my meaning was all changed.<\/p>\n

I saved one final word
\nto pay off this long sentence in spades
\nbut what I thought I said
\nwas patently misread.
\nThe spoken word
\nis broken here
\nand in between the two of us
\nthe meaning is all changed.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(Gone ahead)<\/strong><\/p>\n

We bite off our tongues
\nwhile chewing the fat;
\nthough the fire in our lungs is celestial
\nour delivery falls flat.
\nWould a time come to be silent?
\nOh, we never spoke of that.<\/p>\n

We talked out of turn
\nin the school of hard knocks;
\nalthough willing to learn from experience
\nit still comes as a shock
\nwhen the time comes to be silent…
\none by one the jaws all drop.<\/p>\n

The voice is still clear in my head;
\nit’s the last word in monologue….
\nclose-up, interior, night.<\/p>\n

mmm…<\/p>\n

The voices alive in my head
\nare all tongue-tied to silence now.<\/p>\n

It’s the darkest of moods,
\nit’s the cruellest of jokes
\nthat this facility I used, once so fluent,
\nis cut out at a stroke.
\nAnd the time came to be silent
\nas the core connection broke….
\nabsurd ineloquence,
\nmy own words on which I choke.<\/p>\n

Swallowing deep on the thread,
\nso much I’m losing now,
\nso many things left unsaid
\nand the voice I’ve been using is
\ngone ahead.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(Power of Speech)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Always we shout to be heard
\nas though our voices could express
\nthe sense of sentences deferred
\nand of lessons learned,
\nof storylines unfolding,
\nof the truths of our innocence and shame,
\nof life, the very breath that we are holding,
\nof our very names.
\nWe shoot our mouths off in adventure,
\nwe ram the ammunition in the breach,
\nblow up the flowering of sense
\nwith the power of speech.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(If Language Explodes)<\/strong><\/p>\n

And if language explodes
\nin our faces like shrapnel
\nall self-defence is blown away.<\/p>\n

In the end this reasoning’s sound:
\nhow can we be found
\nif we’re lost for words?<\/p>\n

Oh, still in the search for the words….<\/p>\n

I’ve said my piece,
\nI’ll take my leave now,
\nbreathe not a word
\nof my disarray.<\/p>\n

Ssh.<\/p>\n

All of the words have flown away….<\/p>\n

\"Przewi\u0144<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

(When Language Corrodes) And when language corrodes all our faculties falter and blur. Nobody knows how our tongues got so swollen and furred. What truths are there left to be told when we’re all lost for words? (Babel) Words upon … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":519,"menu_order":28,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-877","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/877","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=877"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/877\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":879,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/877\/revisions\/879"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/519"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/659"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=877"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}