The Poetry of...
Jupe Luoma
BirthDate: June 24, 1976
Jupe describes himself as "an occultist not bowing to any ready-made formations, but looking for new worlds." His poetry shows this by his unique, sometimes mysterious, always exploratory work. Fundamentally though, Jupe believes in the power of the written word: "it is a way not only
to find new layers of yourself as reflected in the eye of the other, but
also to build new you's. I don't know why I prefer to write. It is the most
important aspect of existence for me. Not an excuse, but a way to leave
traces of your being to those who might "find" you years after your mortal
composition is well decomposed. Like William Blake, I see writing as MORE
than a storage of ideas, glimpses of different wholes; more so, we have
always been here before. All the books, all the art, they were made by US.
By writing we leave traces of ourselves, traces FOR ourselves, so that when
once again we are brought to a new life in a different form, we might
REMEMBER. Or then, not. We leave codes for the coming us. Perhaps there is
more to it - or less. Is nothing but a definition? Who knows. Definition =
de+finis; to make something immortal. That is our goal. Our lives are brief
to a point of self-taught tragedy, but our words - they have the chance to
live on."
Here are Jupe's words, to judge for yourself. You can also visit his website at: http://maxpages.com/trapezohedron for more information and his esoteric/occult printing house...
UPON DEPARTURE
Early shades reflect upon the mist'd tomb
From beyond the moulded obituaries
Forsaken lives of elapsed heroes
Through the walls of dreary inscriptions
The fading faces in their graves
Not just death of personage, but all that perish'd
Without a trace, simply a forgotten race
That which lies there never again to return
Somewhere inbetween the dark-winged lost souls
Seek the joy there never was, thus devoted epitaphs
Their bones clatter'd & swollen by hume
Soothing gaze o'er the mounds, Nature & Life still manifest
The rain brings its kingdom to a fresh inception
I cannot remember your features anymore
though not long since all I knew was J'adore
I cannot see your face & yet you are not hiding
Undiminish'd purity of light, undiseased, Birthlike
O the worlds we have seen & finally forgotten!
A victim of the night never passed, fading away in solitude
One life after another, all of them without the other
In a dream dream'd not to be
In a dream not a dream to me
Fully awake, fully asleep, what will tell -
Let the flesh return to earth!
Let the birds fly high,
And not be devoured by the blackest of the swans
Let us die as we lived. One shan't drown in Pretence.
Where shall we drown our Ignorance?
O let the harvest commence!
Keep our spirits free.
And She shall guide Thee.
Do not raise our Infinity
To the level of Thee.
We need dust & bones
In order to be free
the devil is laughing
uncontrollably at the
stupidity of light-bulb
conditioned practitioners
manifesting truth
being born in clear
squares
solid no -
linearly
liquid
endlessly
the same repeatings
constantly
the same wombs
leaving scars
so can you see what went wrong?
& what went not at all?
the dreams are sweet
& there are no nightmares
nocturnal guidance assures me
i still have eyes to see
& am not blinded by the outside
heavens drop like
dry beer -
the warm summer
smiling void
empty inside
thinking
arguing
the battle is lost
the bottle is won
thinking about death
admonished by foul breath
what news what news
people let me know
before the constant snow
how can you go on
knowing all that's known
i have died a million times
but still here to throw the dice
with my eternal device
of foul oblivion and some rice
how to remain wise
and not expiringly nice
my love, the moon
how are you glowing
not a trace of noon
i might aswell be bowing
your pale children walk the earth
and summon your wisdom with palatable mirth
the ones who worship the sun's straight rays
will be caught by cancer and migraine days
at your feet, i bow i bow
i drink to you, how low how low
the light-obediants know nothing of
your beauty, your force, the creation of
nuit nihil
nihil nuit
days but leave trace
for our morning face
"The moon is full", he says
with that ardent, longing gaze
how can you repeat sorrow and pain
& not ecstasy and joy regain
one morning i started to wonder
what exactly does mildew mean
you know this thing that grows on
bread and words that are left unsaid
this thing that results from
long stagnation of these centuries
these pallid truths and philosophies
these torch-carriers of cronos' might
& heralds of long-gone light
& i opened up this book of words
that they print for gullible herds
& right before my tired eyes
these words were given for my surmise:
cast
shape
die
pattern
style
kind
form
sort
type
so now i know what mildew means
& can once more get some sleep
"Can't you just let it go
won't you just
let it die with dignity?"
"No, first i must give birth to it.
& only then can i bury it."
thus replied the artist.
cast the spells when you can
soon you will be dead
& unable to curse the world
lost children
becoming parents
& throwing the first stone
the family of the prophet
is the ground for him
to ascend
dark gateways and cemeteries
the eternal solemnity of warrior souls
standing still in the shadows of the mounds
as angels infinite
a balance of shades in all that remains
Copyright © 2001 Jupe Luoma
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All work on this page is copyright © 2001 to Jupe Luoma,
all rights reserved. It may not be copied or reproduced
without expressed permission from the author.
All work submitted to Paramount Poetry is assumed to be
the original work of the author and PP can take no
responsibilty for stolen copyright then, or hereafter.
Background copyright © Regard-it 1998
Email: jonathan@poeticjustice.co.uk
