Nomenclature

no·men·cla·ture (nō’mən-klā’chər, nō-měn’klə-) Pronunciation Key
n. ~ A system of names used in an art or science.

Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, 1594:

JULIET:
‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.

That which we call ourselves:
The name by which we call our nature:
Wouldst thouest call thyself
Lover?
Friend?
Enemy?
Oh, Lost Soul: blank slate of naivety

Thouest wouldst portend thyself:
Cast thy runes
Show the cards

Read the fortune for this human’s art
Clap thy hands – signify – whilst the echo departs…
Divinity: call beings by their nature
But oh, fine human, how art thou sure?
That by naming, thou hast claimed the spirit?
Would the fleeting glimpse permit…

Thy innermost heart to show?
No..
My friend
This quest goes on,
Without end
And has traversed the ages

By speaking out loud
Proud
What you claim as self, truthfully
Does this mean what we see
Is all there is to be?

In naming what we perceive, we limit:
In the clumsy grasp of understanding’s remit:
In the desire to hold, we close
Our hands around the fragile wings
The flitting moth
Dust shatters – shedding
And as it falls, dissipates
The spirit breaks
free
these brutal bounds

And…
soundless
without word
without name
moves on:

In naming; I limit
In hoping; I blind
In needing; I await
In knowing; in mind
In loving, then,
There is no division
No limit, nor blindness
Nor ache, nor emptiness

Full is the knowledge,
Without definition,
Of my hearts happiness.

Noble savage

Keep a lid on it
they say:
stiff upper lip
whilst you quip
philosophical platitudes
about acceptance
and satisfaction with what you got
I forgot…
Are we supposed to be happy with our lot
in life?

Eloquent and serene
whilst you lean towards
insanity
with a white, tight lipped smile
all the while
saying: ‘I got it
under control’

Oh, so, droll
I’d laugh
if I wasn’t crying
at you dying –
trying
to be the soul
and party
of the scene
so serene
with the ‘I got it’
cover-all smooth talk
all slow shimmy walk

But you know something?
I can see through you
like Super-girl
x-ray vision
With laser sharp incision

And I know
That as you slow-mo
show, the world
how you got it all
done and dusted
bought and sold

the truth is cold

you want warm
undemanding
unquestioning
comfort zone
somewhere that feels like..
home

on the bosom of her heart
but it’s all you can do
to part your lips
and say:

I want you.

Fear, my dear,
is the petty mind
and heart killer.

Irony is this:
I’ll never place words in your mouth
And you are too scared
to fly south
to warmer climes.

starlight express

Goodnight drifty tired world, the night unfurls like a black midnight flying carpet, slip on board & swept, up, towards the moon, soon: sleep