Monday, December 26, 2011

Owls in liddiliddili

(Little Italy)

Russian State Orchestra—in search of James Bond—collects lachrymose latex lemmings – plump’n’plentiful.
Haydn Sikh forges composite Sergei appearances to confound’n’wrack Rachmaninov ’cause he’s not man enough
For asphyxiated astrakhan chaise longue; apertive apparitional aperitifs; or, outré œils-de-bœuf hors d’œuvres.
As previously agreed—entirely on his own terms—Sumo Hamster brindles forth belching gelatinous sales pitch
With three beer bellies bouncing in tandem in jovial-joe jalapeño jalopy staggering in mundane expressionless rags.
Mackerel look on and applaud in discordant wonder. “Give me a trilobite I’m hungry man!” He yells at waiters
For: javelin meniscus ménage a trois; incredulous trophies; and incumbent Polaks who poleaxe prima-facie polka.
And all the while, coterie of audacious owls—with eloquent jowls—call down the maitre de salon with aplomb.
They beg to differ. They say: “In vino veritas.” And spin their directionless silver stirrup cups with perfect timing.

Sumo Hamster’s seeks prescriptive rapid promotional respirator Rolex wrist, which causes even coffins to chuckle.
He attempts perfidious parlance – but scornful pride of lions—lazing in loins—coin Sunday phrases in intaglio.
He pontificates in Cyrillic concerning his partial existence as a Serbo-Croat acrobat – who may or may not ride
Sumerian Subarus through Subterranean Homesick Blues in order to avoid prehensile botulism festival of fear.
“This is all too much!” someone shouts. “What is this place? What is going on – and how can I get out of here?”
But Prince Charles whispers slow—almost mute—“This is the last time I go to the funeral of General De Galle.”
And succinct juggernaut megaphone breathes jaded connotations: crouton creationism – encrypted slow in creosote.
And all the while, Cosa Nostra owls with elegant howls call down the thunder of Breugel’s crème Broulee
They beg to differ. They say: “Age quod ægis.” And swivel their respective gazes across the screen of perfect tapestry.

Sumo Hamster—credibility gap entrepreneur—seizes elongated lemur advertisements for lentamente leotards –
And yells: “When young I ingested spaghetti through both nasal cavities whilst smoking four Havana cigars!
I ate 3 or 4 encyclopaedias each morning before breakfast and whipped up a storm of teacups in my hair!
My excrement was sold en masse to gutter press tabloids who recycled it within hours as world headlines!
I know everything! Ask me! Ask me anything! Ask me when the tide turns and I’ll show you the lights go out!
They go out one by one and you’ll never know the difference between this - and that other frame of reference
You thought you saw the night before! Yes sir! No two ways about it! I got the biggest trampoline known to man!
And all the while, ontological owls with razor rowels dial up a mutiny of bountiful music to chill Chablis.
They beg to differ: “Credat Judæus Apella, non ego.” glaring menacing glee into each nubiferous nombril nuance.

Sumo Hamster laces belly with cactus mustard—to be clearly heard—calls out “What’s more I ate six whales!
I ate a serving of shale! Washed it down with steroids and domestic bleach! Why here’s my self portrait to prove it!
Because I—and only I—can save the world from ‘Me’! And I am out of reach! I can sit here shouting all day long!
I can shout about random excitements! I can pummel my schlong with arcane adjuncts and cannibal armchairs!
The whole world’s at my feet with cigarette certificates! I have fanatical accordion blazers! Piles of uncooked meat!
I stole valleys of moral turpitude in my time! For I am Leviathan Snatsch! Yay! He who opens his ghastly wings
And rides the Valhalla vaulting-horse – the meat-wagon gravy-train of affluent effluent and prudential effluvium!”
And all the while, ophthalmic owls in perfumed towels dynamite degraded umbrage and hillocks of hubris
They beg to differ: “In pace requiescat.” Returning spinning stirrup cups to waistcoated hip flasks with perfect grace.

Sumo Hamster tries one last time: “Take it from me – this is only the beginning! Later on I’ll whip my self
With ‘Love me tender love me true’! I’ll crawl through turbid tureen tunnel of hot air pumped up from ground zero!
Conscripted muleskinners will beg for more! Cantankerousness will smile up at me sweetly from the floor!
Damn it – but you’ve never met anyone like me! I signed every document known to science! Yes! I bottled them
In surrogate investment shares! They’re guarded harsh by hogs and hirsute henchmen in porcine porcupine pantaloons!
They’ll gore any of you who make a move on my plectrum perspiration or province of potted penis shrimp galore!
And I’ll lie about the time they all rolled in the aisles – while gutting whale bone corsets and hearing aid alarms
And all the while, Olympic owls with hardwood dowels tap boogie-woogie wanderlust of their triumphant growls:
As the Dakinis sing: “Pleased t’meet you hope y’guess his name but what’s puzzlin’ you is the nature of his game.”


5th of February 2005

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About Doc Togden (Ngakpa Chögyam)

As the caption on the author-designed cover of Doc Togden's (Ngakpa Chögyam) upcoming collection of poetry ravings of a mild mannered maniac reads:

Tantra is Art - and a tantrika explores the sense-fields through the Arts. This work paints with the cadences of language - because the poet is both a painter and musician. He marvels at existence whilst lampooning the prevalent sociopathy of spirituality. As semantic Jazz - linguistic density jives with space, taking readers into realms where linear logic is only one possible vector amongst many. Comedy and tragedy dance, provoking a cascade of surreal impressions that change with each reading. Rock & Roll lyrics sung by dakinis erupt in counterpoint to the paradoxical hymns of a 'vicar or vajrayana' - a trans-Atlantic Englishman who raves, tongue-in-cheek, on the nature of reality. This is the first volume to be published in the contemporary genre of 'Critical Mass Poetics' as defined by the author and his students.

On the phenomenon of having two names, he writes:

"I appeared on FaceBook as Doc Togden because I wanted a fresh start in terms of the Arts. I have often found a dual prejudice to exist. If one presents as a musician / artist one is not taken seriously by Buddhists. If one presents as a Buddhist one is not taken seriously by musicians / artists. This is obviously a generalisation – and as such, probably meaningless for anyone apart from myself. It is true however, that Captain Beefheart had to give up his Rock musician persona to be taken seriously as a painter. A few Tibetan Lamas—such a Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche—have managed to evade the censorious radar of common opinion – but the same largesse of view would not seem available to the inconsequential eccentric yogi and yogini. Doc Togden is as much my name as Ngakpa Chögyam because the name on my passport—and other legal documents—is Dr Chögyam Togden. The Tibetan designation ‘ngakpa’ is hard to pronounce for most people and so, as I have a doctorate in Vajrayana Psychology I use that in everyday association outside my rôle as Lama. The title doctor releases me from having to designate myself by gender and appeals to my sense of humour vis-à-vis my fondness for Doc Holliday and a variety of musicians who have ‘Doc’ as their first name. I have five FaceBook friends called Doc and they are all musicians.

The time has now arrived to merge Doc Togden and Ngakpa Chögyam – and to allow them to be as they have always been. Hopefully those who may have looked askance at either will feel reconciled to the fact that they can talk with me as an artist and Buddhist teacher without feeling wary on the one hand or fearful of potential religious polemic on the other. I have no desire to convert anyone to Buddhism – but I do have a desire to offer aspects of Buddhism to the world of Art and Art to those who practise Buddhism. I believe there to be a common language – an essential language that speaks of the timeless efflorescence of the elements. The Arts arise from vision—from the empty space of primal creativity—and that space is the space everyone can access. Buddhists say that everyone is essentially a Buddha. I take from that that everyone is essentially an Artist. Now . . . did Ngakpa Chögyam say that, or did Doc Togden say that? Who ever said it, he’d also like to say that there is essentially no difference."

On Facebook, Doc Togden (Ngakpa Chögyam) describes himself as a "Teacher / Artist: painter; poet; author; life-style choreographer, and musician (vocalist, harp, rhythm bass, and 12 string / resophonic guitars)."

In reference to the roles of "Teacher" and "life-style choreographer", the informed reader will notice the uncanny resemblance of Doc Togden (Ngakpa Chögyam) to Ngak'chang Rinpoche, whom together with Khandro Déchen are the lineage holders of the Aro gTér. The Aro gTér is a stream of Vajrayana Buddhism in which ordination is congruous with romance, marriage, and family life that focuses on the teaching and practice of the Inner Tantras from the point of view of Dzogchen, an essential non-dual teaching.

As a writer, Doc Togden's (Ngakpa Chögyam) most recent books include an odd boy and wisdom eccentrics.