This is a long epic poem, part 6 of a greater work. Synopsis below. It is included in the Dandy Poems and an entirely separate piece. Written in blank verse with rhyming couplets.

Introduction

“Return to Panagea” like many of my other works was written in the middle of the night as I was awakened from a dream. Every writer has his or her own productive process. Mine seems to come at night especially as lay down in bed, then the mind begins to work of its own accord in directions and worlds unknown. I know this of myself and never steer in one direction or another, I let it come to me, and hope I have a pen and pad near the bed should something exceptionally come. Sometimes, rarely, but enough to mention it, my dream, intact and coherent, will arouse me from my sleep, force me and lead me to a blank page to get it down before the imagery and sensibility vanish.

This story came in such a way almost fully formed. When it was over, I could not believe I had gotten the gist of it down on paper, so I could polish later. Upon a later review, I had trouble understanding how such a rant had been harnessed. The ideas must have been forming for decades along with a lifetime of experiences. Most of all, the last image in the particular, seemed to somehow fill the entire poem into one dynamic image.

The story, upon completion, began as the last installment in a larger epic poem I was considering due to its ability to be translated into illustration, animation, and/or film. A character called SIM, for simulated man, lived on the star Alpha Centauri. This would then be the first sci-fi epic poem I believe. His world believes the earth had been annihilated centuries before. As a professor and Renaissance man at DaVinci Station, he had formed the Pangaea Society to praise and admirer all things earthly since everything in his world was synthetic. Only the shape and color of things resembled some natural past. He longed and dreamed of rediscovering earth and also experienced a sense of the true reality of all things. He, along with his pet dogs, Yankee, Winston, and Biscuit, were simulated but had the remnant DNA of shape, texture, and feel of things from the past, but all was mostly, a derivative.

He becomes disowned from his colleagues and contemporaries. He builds a ship. He takes a voyage. He discovers earth and for a short time is able to explore, firsthand, the earth of his dreams but this is reality. He is able to use all of his senses to hear, touch, taste, smell, and feel this dynamic world. Unfortunately, his organs along with his pets, begin to deteriorate in these natural surroundings.

These are his last words, as he lies deteriorating and dying in a creek bed.

On one level, the story is simply a mask for something more important.  In fact, some readers have said they had wished to know nothing of such a character and story and preferred to read the poem for its own sake.  The sci-fi cover for me at least allows a layer of fantasy that in fact softens the tone of the poem’s message.  I believe it allows readers to further contemplate the meaning as a fable, as a proverb, as a metaphor do.

TOMA                                              October 27th, 2013                               Midlothian, Virginia

 

 RtoPangea Rosina Marr 12.8.17.JPG

 This cover for this epic poem is originally from clip art from the early 1990s that came with a Hewlitt Packard computer I believe. Then, a friend of mine, an artist, was moved by the poem and piece to actually paint a work of art for it.

Rosina Marr Pavia, artist. completed 2017.

Return to Pangaea

He is a dreamer,; let us leave him: pass.

(W. Shakespeare from Julius Caesar)

 

Part 6

O God

O MAN

Thou art great in thy intrinsic endeavors

In thy mind and in thy fistful might

Thou hast built starlit columns clouded by their height

In thy hand held oval pocket watches set off by a twisted spring

And on thy slender fingers placed bejeweled and begoldened rings

With and without word Terra Incognita

Void without void Voca Impregneta

Out of his own image Deus Erectus

Out of his own mind Spiritus Omnis

Ever moving ever forward ever present ever last

Sought out the future dug out the past

Continuously unraveling ever illuminating horizon bound

Ever searching ever scrutinizing every atom you had found

Sat looking at the clock with a hand resting on the chin

Uncluttered by faith unencumbered by sin

As thy mysterious sprog grinded about thy head

As you lay resting thy aching torso in bed

Thy ideas lit up thy brow like fireworks ad infinita

Spasms of deliberate impulses a heavenly replica

Fantastic globes shifting in stray space in the mellow night

While you lay hindered blind you bore the greatest sight

And you awoke with a jolt and took the time to jot it down

Suddenly by morn another born plat machine town

Your ever nimble joints fidgeting a stylus for some cue

Ever forward ever backward towards the end of some rue

Raked in the muscle baked by the Skull

Hunger in the Belly what a magnificent toll

Terribly haughty horribly ignorant

Wonderfully accented a spindle jointly multifaceted

Whose limbs and tendencies held to function and form

But with a mind bent on breaking the traditional norm

Such neglectful consciences such an undying gift

Ready for a next step to mend or start a rift

You must have been deliberate and a bit naive in thought

Tied to dreams of youth unaware of the harm you wrought

Never quite satisfied never quite humble

Never afraid of being the clown without fear of the stumble

Praying to the stars for some magical luck

While still giving babies what they need in the suck

Looking into the firmament considering thy own soul

Finding emptiness abounds from what it does not know

If only you had been stayed a minute understood what you had saw

Not of the heavens objects but in the betweeness defined it all

Ever constant at thy work set on thy task in mind

Wasting away hours days years lifetimes

Yet able to rise above it all with a hearty joke

While laughing at thy own self though still scoffing at other folk

Never an end at the playful and the mirth

Such spontaneous ideas and gesticulations an overabundant worth

(SPACE: BREAK)

To think it must have begun the same regardless of the land

The Imagined first comes in fingered circles on the sand

Decorated by sticks oblong pebbles then a tiered assembly

Ever higher ever stronger the fort the home the country

While ring eared prophets argued in a palaver of tongues

Out of nowhere suddenly melded triangles walls wars guns

The battlements were raised the arsenal frothed to and fro

The poor souls caught up in yet another imbroglio

Then loses like a wisp of smoke what it momentarily has had

What it creates with one it extinguishes by the same hand

If only it had slept just a few more quiet hours

In order to reconsider the beauty of its sculptured towers

If only it had looked a little longer towards home

Thought of kith kin and lover by some hearth some stone

And those tiny hands that clasp adult fingers with delight

At nothing special but just the warmth in the sight

All safe and waiting huddled blanketed round by a flame

It all seems to begin and end just the same

Through telescopes microscopes glass ovals and square screens

It discovered rivers oceans Nova Terra Cognita the galaxies

And continued to number them name them to develop routes

Another born science by cataloging and scrutinizing the roots

For the main purpose of proving how the mind is to be used

Always ever farther ever forward towards a new avenue

While still tasting spices sprinkled on cured meats

Still sipping stewed beans while chewing on dried leaves

Still sending thyself into a forced reverie by colored drinks

And laughing like hyenas at other peoples hijinks

And honoring the hero or the idiot with a crown

And never understanding what it means to listen to a sound

Creating a meager living over engrained paper or metals or ID

That fit into a pocket purse in a store box temporarily

With an eye on the weekend the other on the future

Pondering a life spent trading hours in a schematic culture

Getting on and off a transom up and down the stairs

Seeming to move about as if you hadn’t any cares

Traveling always in transit never settling down

Like the impatient globe on its elliptical round

So many forgotten moments when such glaring silence showed

The purpose of it all the reason for the weight of the load

But the mind must have been fickle

Consumed in thought by a foreign tickle

As the friction on the sand creates a pearl by the oyster

So must the brain have been in turmoil by some odd placed moisture

If only it could have kept still awhile like water in a bowl

Let the stone cultivate moss rather than the roll

Always seeming to start over spiraling outward again and again

Though this might have been just the secret of how it all began

With a hand on the present rarely a mind set on the past

With a finger ever pointing upward ever eager to create a new cast

(SPACE: BREAK)

If only it had looked in front

Not in the periphery but in the handshake and rebuff

In the wry grin or the toothless clutch

In the men and women whose backs bore too much

In the suited gait or the ragged man waiting for a meal

In the boy who pressed his hands together the elderly who kneel

In the hypocrite the one who said and the one who stayed aloof

In the vein of nature in thy own palm it gave proof

In the spectacled thinker the quiet illiterate man

In the child who had a child by another childs hand

In the crook in the murderer in the misfit in the lout

In the gray eyed retiree clambering about naught

In the family left on the street who lived in a cardboard box

In the millionaire sipping tea content with his ever bulging stock

In the hospitals where no one visited the sickly in their rooms

In the flats where maidens patiently waited for silent grooms

In the churchyard garden thickly overgrown with vines and weeds

In the farmer watering his ground fostering his cherished seeds

It was all there in its senses dulled by its own sight

In rearranging genetics neglected chaos and the cosmos right

These were the truest lenses the pathways to the soul

Yet you purposely ignored them truly only for the sake to extol

If only you had slept a little longer or if you had just gone blind

There might have been some lasting hope for this human kind

(SPACE: BREAK)

If only one could have taken just one single tear

And gazed at it magnified taken one moment to stand still

Hearkened to the song the shape beckoned to its will

And witnessed in this bounty thy reflection thy face thy fear


I purposely left out grammatical symbols, as this was to be a sci-fi, forward thinking work. The image on soundcloud is a self portrait that I did while I was in college, probably at 18. Other audio works may be found on soundcloud under TOMA.

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