image dump (warning: disturbing/annoying objects present)

[OP ED]

The Last Judgment is an Overwhelming of Bad Art and Science. Mental Things are alone Real; what is call'd Corporeal, Nobody knows of its Dwelling Place: it is in Fallacy, & its Existence an Imposture. Where is the Existence Out of Mind or Thought? Where is it but in the Mind of a Fool? Some People flatter themselves that there will be no Last Judgement & that Bad Art will be adopted & mixed with Good Art. That Error or Experiment will make a Part of Truth & they Boast that it is its Foundation; these People flatter themselves: I will not Flatter them. Error is Created. Truth is Eternal. Error, or Creation will be Burned up, & then, & not till Then, Truth or Eternity will appear. It is Burnt up the Moment Men cease to behold it. I assert for My Self that I do not behold the outward Creation & that to me it is hindrance and not Action; it is as the dirt upon my feet, No part of Me. "What," it will be Question'd, "When the Sun rises, do you not see a round disk of fire somewhat like a Guinea?" O no, no, I see an Innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty." I question not my Corporeal or Vegetative Eye any more than I would Question a Window concerning a Sight. I look thro' it & not with it.

--Blake, Commentary on The Last Judgment

[OP ED]

The Negation is the Spectre, the Reasoning Power in Man:
This is a false Body, an Incrustation over my Immortal
Spirit, a Selfhood which must be put off and annihilated alway.
To cleanse the Face of my Spirit by self-examination,
To bathe in the waters of Life, to wash off the Not Human,
I come in Self-annihilation and the grandeur of Inspiration;
To cast off Rational Demonstration by Faith in the Saviour,
To cast off the rotten rags of Memory by Inspiration,
To cast off Bacon, Locke, and Newton from Albion's covering,
To take off his filthy garments and clothe him with Imagination;
To cast aside from Poetry all that is not Inspiration,
That it no longer shall dare to mock with the aspersion of Madness
Cast on the Inspirèd by the tame high finisher of paltry Blots
Indefinite or paltry Rhymes, or paltry Harmonies,
Who creeps into State Government like a caterpillar to destroy;
To cast off the idiot Questioner, who is always questioning,
But never capable of answering; who sits with a sly grin
Silent plotting when to question, like a thief in a cave;
Who publishes Doubt and calls it Knowledge; whose Science is Despair,
Whose pretence to knowledge is Envy, whose whole Science is
To destroy the wisdom of ages, to gratify ravenous Envy
That rages round him like a Wolf, day and night, without rest.
He smiles with condescension; he talks of Benevolence and Virtue,
And those who act with Benevolence and Virtue they murder time on time.
These are the destroyers of Jerusalem! these are the murderers
Of Jesus! who deny the Faith and mock at Eternal Life,
Who pretend to Poetry that they may destroy Imagination
By imitation of Nature's Images drawn from Remembrance.
These are the Sexual Garments, the Abomination of Desolation,
Hiding the Human Lineaments, as with an Ark and Curtains
Which Jesus rent, and now shall wholly purge away with Fire,
Till Generation is swallow'd up in Regeneration.

[zhivkov]

Great stuff OE and Perelandra! The image Perelandra posted was what I forgot to go out and see the other night -even after being reminded.
I also love If the sun and the moon should go out
and crowleys de eucharistico universali
i really need to learn how to copy and paste text-i would love to have the words in the post before mine written down and on my place sometime in the future-i might just write them down now-it will take a long time as i am so sloooow but will be worth it in the end thanks oe and everyone else-i had seen what oe posted b4 my post but the beauty of it just hit me
if i am up late enough i am going to copy down Perelandras cat poem from way back-i think i have it on tape recorder-but i like to have hard copy and i dont have printer ink
peace and love-z

[OP ED]

the post above yours is a Quote from "Milton" (the redeemed Milton is anyways speaking of memory, so a metaquote).

if you use windows.

highlight the desired text. right click. choose "copy".
open a word processing program. Microsoft Word or a Text file. In windows, you can do this by right clicking on the desk top, chossing new > text document, etc.

Right click inside the new document. choose paste.

(two posts above i did from memory, on account of it being centrally repeated in Mr. Frye's book from the first page or so of this topic, which i've read many times, so never even had to memorize, the just above post i kind of remembered but not well enough, [that passage from milton was first drawn to my particular attention in one of Harold Bloom's books on writers] so i stole it from a website. from a google search. "blake" + "milton" + "Regeneration" as described below)

re cutting and pasting as Above.

I just highlighted the text on a site. Right click, copy, return to RI, click reply, right click, paste, submit. Like so below...

[from Jerusalem]



And this is the manner of the Sons of Albion in their strength
They take the Two Contraries which are calld Qualities, with which


Every Substance is clothed, they name them Good & Evil
From them they make an Abstract, which is a Negation
Not only of the Substance from which it is derived
A murderer of its own Body: but also a murderer
Of every Divine Member: it is the Reasoning Power
An Abstract objecting power, that Negatives every thing
This is the Spectre of Man: the Holy Reasoning Power
And in its Holiness is closed the Abomination of Desolation


Therefore Los stands in London building Golgonooza
Compelling his Spectre to labours mighty; trembling in fear
The Spectre weeps, but Los unmovd by tears or threats remains


I must Create a System, or be enslav'd by another Mans
I will not Reason & Compare: my business is to Create


So Los, in fury & strength: in indignation & burning wrath
Shuddring the Spectre howls. his howlings terrify the night
He stamps around the Anvil, beating blows of stern despair
He curses Heaven & Earth, Day & Night & Sun & Moon
He curses Forest Spring & River, Desart & sandy Waste
Cities & Nations, Families & Peoples, Tongues & Laws
Driven to desperation by Los's terrors & threatning fears


Los cries, Obey my voice & never deviate from my will
And I will be merciful to thee: be thou invisible to all
To whom I make thee invisible, but chief to my own Children
O Spectre of Urthona: Reason not against their dear approach
Nor them obstruct with thy temptations of doubt & despair
O Shame O strong & mighty Shame I break thy brazen fetters
If thou refuse, thy present torments will seem southern breezes
To what thou shalt endure if thou obey not my great will.


The Spectre answer'd. Art thou not ashamd of those thy Sins
That thou callest thy Children? lo the Law of God commands
That they be offered upon his Altar: O cruelty & torment
For thine are also mine! I have kept silent hitherto,
Concerning my chief delight: but thou hast broken silence
Now I will speak my mind! Where is my lovely Enitharmon
O thou my enemy, where is my Great Sin? She is also thine
I said: Now is my grief at worst: incapable of being
Surpassed: but every moment it accumulates more & more
It continues accumulating to eternity! the joys of God advance
For he is Righteous: he is not a Being of Pity & Compassion
He cannot feel Distress: he feeds on Sacrifice & Offering:
Delighting in cries & tears & clothed in Holiness & solitude
But my griefs advance also, for ever & ever without end
O that I could cease to be! Despair! I am Despair


Created to be the great example of horror & agony: also my
Prayer is vain I called for compassion: compassion mockd
Mercy & pity threw the grave stone over me & with lead
And iron, bound it over me for ever: Life lives on my
Consuming: & the Almighty hath made me his Contrary
To be all evil, all reversed & for ever dead: knowing
And seeing life, yet living not; how can I then behold
And not tremble; how can I be beheld & not abhorrd


So spoke the Spectre shuddring, & dark tears ran down his shadowy face
Which Los wiped off, but comfort none could give! or beam of hope
Yet ceasd he not from labouring at the roarings of his Forge
With iron & brass Building Golgonooza in great contendings
Till his Sons & Daughters came forth from the Furnaces
At the sublime Labours for Los. compelld the invisible Spectre


To labours mighty, with vast strength, with his mighty chains,
In pulsations of time, & extensions of space, like Urns of Beulah
With great labour upon his anvils, & in his ladles the Ore
He lifted, pouring it into the clay ground prepar'd with art;
Striving with Systems to deliver Individuals from those Systems;
That whenever any Spectre began to devour the Dead,
He might feel the pain as if a man gnawd his own tender nerves.

----


Hope that helps a bit.

[zhivkov]

these tid-bits are from a book i have called the aristos
1-Where are we? What is this situation? Has it a master?

2-Matter in time appears to us, with our vested interest in survival, to be governed by two opposing principles: Law, or the organizing priciple, and Chaos, or the disintegrating one. These two, the one to us sorting and erecting, the other to us demolishing and causing havoc, are in eternal conflict. This conflict is existence.

3-All that exists has, by existing and by not being the only thing that exists, individuality.

[zhivkov]

thanks OE for the instructions-I will get some of this someday! would love to have the Frye book-dont know if i will ever come across it-you must have a good memory-i cant ever remember any more than 5 or 6 lines of something at a time unless it is something that mattered to me in my younger days
i gather its kind of like getting pics from imageshack here?

I know this ? will defame my memory for all RI history-but what does rt clicking on the desktop mean-I know i am stupid-and its the last ? of the night you have been too kind helping me already!-Z

[OP ED]

(i think i mayve misfiled some of those)

[zhivkov]

thanks for the new blake images oe-i guess ffrom reading the small biography i had-he had quite a few or at least some major critics of his painting-i think his images are delightful and imaginative-definitely before his time-

[OP ED]

of course he had critics.

they are also, of course, largely remembered primarily as being his critics.

poor bastards.

most of the local v.i.p.'s tended to regard him as a looney tune, if they regarded him at all.

[zhivkov]

hehe-that kind of shows Blakes standing -if someones only memory in history is as of being a critic of his-i also caught a lot of the looney tune stuff in the bio-but i am so used to reading that about all people b4 their time -z

[OP ED]

http://books.google.com/books?id=Ee4iuX ... mmetry&lr=

[zhivkov]

whoa!!!! thank you so incredibly much! really appreciate it -i tried to find on scribd but couldn't so glad i came back one last time-was trying to think of some poetry to put up tonight but nothing is coming to me-maybe-i know i will have much more blake there in the future-it was odd one person who commented said i had great taste in poetry which i appreciated-but really don't know a lot of it-was trying to think of a russian poet for tonight and i can't come up with a damn one-just the book writers
i guess the only thing that struck me as odd about the comment was that the person put whitman, sexton and blake all together as examples of my taste-i really like this person-very smart-but i guess some peoples tastes vary as widely as mine do!
best to you oe and thanks so much for that link! as usual i owe you one-actually i owe you a whole liquor store by now or a bar!-z
OE-had to come back one last time and at least try to help you-although i dont think this will as you probably have books or articles or whatever about him but there is a lot of stuff by or abour AO Spare on scribd-i know this probably didnt help much or even if you are interested i had to try something as you have helped me so much.

[OP ED]

THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD


Youth of delight! come hither
And see the opening morn,
Image of Truth new-born.
Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,
Dark disputes and artful teazing.
Folly is an endless maze;
Tangled roots perplex her ways;
How many have fallen there!
They stumble all night over bones of the dead;
And feel--they know not what but care;
And wish to lead others, when they should be led.

[OP ED]

http://www.english.uga.edu/nhilton/Blake/blaketxt1/

Land of Dreams, The


Awake, awake, my little boy!
Thou wast thy mother's only joy;
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy father does thee keep.

"O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O father! I saw my mother there,
Among the lilies by waters fair.

"Among the lambs, cloth?d in white,
She walk'd with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn;
O! when shall I again return?"

Dear child, I also by pleasant streams
Have wander'd all night in the Land of Dreams;
But tho' calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.

"Father, O father! what do we here
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the morning star."

http://www.poemhunter.com/william-blake/poems/page-1/



But in the Wine-presses the Human Grapes Sing not nor Dance


But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance:
They howl and writhe in shoals of torment, in fierce flames consuming,
In chains of iron and in dungeons circled with ceaseless fires,
In pits and dens and shades of death, in shapes of torment and woe:
The plates and screws and racks and saws and cords and fires and cisterns
The cruel joys of Luvah's Daughters, lacerating with knives
And whips their victims, and the deadly sport of Luvah's Sons.

They dance around the dying and they drink the howl and groan,
They catch the shrieks in cups of gold, they hand them to one another:
These are the sports of love, and these the sweet delights of amorous play,
Tears of the grape, the death sweat of the cluster, the last sigh
Of the mild youth who listens to the luring songs of Luvah.----

[Penguin]

I was out in the town today and took some pics - of a graveyard that holds plague victims, that is now a small park downtown, and the monuments in it, and some buildings around. Ill post them prolly later when Ive edited and selected them. The graveyard holds couple thousand people, most nameless, who died in a plague in 1700s. Few stones have names, I think mostly it was a mass grave. The amount of dead was 2/3 of the citys population at that time.

Now the park is a popular place to hang out in the summer, since its smack right in the middle of downtown.