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Best Poems From
ERHARD HANS JOSEF LANG
(January 8,1957)
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13.
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Eclipsing Untimely Queues On Whims Of Practical Intuition
Nor briskets nor biscuits,
No greens, no grains to eat left over on the shelves
Where to feed on at home
Time again it was to go shopping for life's victuals.
Money that buys the things first was needed to get more of.
Ah, what a terribly huge crowd of clients
Inside that bank then again, and
How many hours again of life's precious time
I'd lose over waiting for my numbered deal
After I was through with this queue?
'I could have easily done my shopping in the meantime
While I'll be waiting in here -
50 numbers ahead of my own turn, '
I heard another one say, likewise caught
In the waiting's turning-mill.
And suddenly, carried on a
Whim of practical intuition,
Making true on the word just heard
I went to betake myself away, out from the bank,
On the very same thought of what my wearied by-stander had sighed.
I left, with my number tag stuck in the left hand,
Left the bank, without a note or coin for a bill to be paid,
Hied into a nearby mall's grocery station,
Where all the goodies are there for the buying,
Took the shoppers basket cart and started
Filling it with all kinds of goods, item by item
Selecting exactly what I thought I needed.
My purse empty, but
The bank's number tag all the while
Stuck In my left hand.
Bread-fruit, canned food, some tastes of
Liquid for drinks & morsels to snack on,
Sugar, salt, chillie, cheese,
Maybe something special yet for
The unexpected valued guest that might come visiting in the house...
Staples and extras in no time, thus, as it were,
Filled up the shopping basket to the brim.
And, yes, time had elapsed by then,
Since I had unqueued myself from waiting in the bank.
I placed my shoppers cart in a corner of the mall's
Where it would be out of he way of all others -
All the while with the bank's number tag still
Stuck in my left hand -
Went back to the bank, and lo, right
In time for
My turn to be served,
I signed request and receipt scrips,
Took and pocketed the given urgent argent agent
- Money -
Made it back to the trade-center
Retrieved my barrowful of houseware
Cashed in on my counter bill
And hadn't I gained, on top of all,
Paid by nothing else but a leap on a daring whim of the moment,
One and a half hours of quality time in life?
In another instance, on an
Autobahn diversion forest override,
A never-ending queue of cars and nothing but cars
was that time
That time-snatching chain of waiting in queue
I once again dared to unqueue myself of.
That queue was caused by something graver than
What any money, even how painstakingly awaited, could purchase one:
Due to a fatal series of crash-on
Accidents of several cars on the run in that stretch
Total blockage there was of all traffic
On all lanes, on that very superhighway
Where I was then gliding down in an automobile,
On a drive only for shopping for the extra rare foreign article,
There in one of cosmovillage Munich's unique railway kiosks,
Wanted just one interesting reading material,
Only there as they sold anything in
That exotic language I had learnt.
But suddenly all vehicles, small and big, slow and fast,
Ended up being diverted, through
The billowing far-stretching countrysides, from the
One Autobahn outlet before the disaster spot to the
One Autobahn entry behind the disaster spot,
Porsches and Gogomobiles alike, back to back,
Mercedeses and Unimogs teeming flank by flank with
Cow-herders from the nearest village goading home over the road
Their cattle to their night shelters,
Smiling into the faces of frustrated racing-car drivers -
Stuck in a queue of no end of cars
That were all melting up into one endlessly long metal snake
Meandering for two and half hours extra and additional,
On a stretch they would have covered, if on the Autobahn,
In a matter of minutes,
Now trapped in such a mess, up and down
Provincial hills along romantically winding hillbilly-roads
Through forested stretches,
Across farmers' meadows and fields,
And through their slow-life villages.
I was about to give it up and just
Cancel my trip, getting delayed thus,
When I had this glorious idea:
Why not simply overtake the whole long line of cars ahead of me
From inside the forest on its forest roads,
There left and right of the main street?
(Though entering forest grounds with a motorized vehicle
Required a special permit
I, a nature boy,
Was not afraid of drives into the woods) .
And so, one more driver, aside from the cow-herder
Who had smiled into the frustrated Porche chauffeur's face,
Was peeping over to that same face
And with a similar satisfaction,
This time I myself up there right in the woods,
Before turning off along my chosen dark-hidden nature's path-ways.
Eventually, after all my ways across areas of farm land,
I found myself back by the Autobahn entry
Where the accidental diversion was getting started.
The traffic police by then were still busy
Diverting more & more of on-rushing cars.
But I was the only one that came from the other direction
And I crossed the Autobahn on a bridge right there
To go from where I also was to pass back into the next possible
Autobahn entry,
Coming but down all the way from the other side,
I, the only one of
All the other hundreds and hundreds of other vehicles,
Who had gone on a trip of his own,
To the other side.
And after some twenty minutes - only -, I was meeting
On the first batch of all those other car buddies helplessly diverted,
The very ones that I actually, had I stayed within the queue,
Would have been truckling yet some two hours behind of.
And hadn't I then experienced,
Paid again by nothing else but a leap on a daring whim of the moment,
Another one & a half hours or more of quality time in life?
This is a song of freedom of one
Who at regular times
Toggles along with others like all the others do, too.
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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14.
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Economical Perfect Harmony And Its Human Stages Of Achieving It
In a harsh world of money, something such as like ours these days,
All the good elements with bravely applied human talents
And nobler tracts of the animal character all are
Kept to work out continuously in most of their harrowed lives' days
Marked obligations to the once-chosen sectors of
One's enterprising or labouring servilitude
Where each and everyone is listed on
In the books of the chief registrar that
Goes by the name of Money.
Without that ruthless hard blackjack in
The hands of this rulership of infantile traits
That yet doesn't know any better means but to call in for help as panacea -
The only way held possible until now so as not to
Be constantly doubting, duelling and battling each and another,
Amongst oneself and one's own outstanding species
In one's galling materialistic envy of the clumsy and
Unlucky poor soul and its ignorant outlooks of envy
With its stupefied looks that can kill for the lowest values and
With its brazen arms that it is ready to wield -
A values ordinancing system and device of
A medium highly corrupted by all kinds of most
Divergent interests,
As treacherous and intent on evil as is Money,
For all transactions on earth,
Which, now that it once had been released
On its oh so painfully bearing, long-lasting lease of stand-in,
Athwart all our things and their physically intelligent owners,
Demonstrates time and again for all grown-ups in mind to fear,
That it does indeed have the power,
Though however faceless the invisible handle of
The persuader hammer may be,
To knock any singular man that dares to stand in the way of
These breezes of pecuniary stench,
That flow all over and throughout our so tough money-pacified world,
Right off his feet, however good the poor man might in all his other respects have been,
Only for a man or woman not having wanted to take to rubbing sides
With this little fiend of tricky marvels who ever
Goes about so princely, in the guise of royalties,
Though a mere beggar-figure, after all,
(What were all physical money's value in itself
In all our earth's animal-animated world,
If not for us slanted-eyed humans?) and for
Not ploughing their allotted shares readily also into the national field arena
With all its succulant pools of stately classes
Ever so eagerly watched over with eagles' eyes
By those politically borne prodigal supermen with
The country's purse around their necks,
These administratistical hieronomics with their multiple portfolios
As life-insuring cage-wards of people's tiresome welfare,
Often times, paradoxically, a real-time killer in itself.
And still, some people's thing money never will have come to be,
Though the harsh world of money is widely reckoned as one
Wherein everyone, in the end, gets set or laid, somehow,
For the worse or better.
But there are some individuals, who
Without any conscious guilt of their own,
Meet with such cruel fates with them being
Made to pay sums very much higher than whatever
Strength, trained abilities and strained
Stints that have held in store nothing but bad luck,
As it comes to making opportunities that make the money,
Had ever, on their parts, allowed for,
Be it thanks to some clumsiness with them,
Or some other wayward destiny,
Who are verily heard sadly tolling out of time
Their own knells, out of sheer unbeatable, destructive despondency,
Over just not having been able to live up to the things
Demanded by the risen hand of money
In the name of a dictator of some sorts
Which had made the person literally be rolling on the ground
And paying and paying as many bills & tolls as
In the life of one man only can be,
Which pain normally lasts until such time that
The tolling of the meanwhile worn-down beast of burdens' knell were to be heard in its own time
For them to leave the world -
Eventually being called off
For the last final shift-change
As another human comet soul to expire, though
Grown richer in all his poorly run money world -
A time-frame, when thus come to sit inside a money pressure cooker -
The whole future of length of their own life yet to be - that all too many
Over-heavily burdened people just
Can't stand waiting any longer for it to pass by other means
Than to have themselves swatted out of their debts,
Bloody cruel but cleared clean,
By leaving on a simple note into the only one safehaven remaining them,
Far enough away from any credit collectors of theirs,
After receiving their life-threatening strokes from the high-voltage mace of tragic financial ends.
In a fairer world of money, however, someone, for example
Of the gilded labourers with a megalocephalic half-brother,
Whose head were simply too big for having the odd-levelled pecuniary abacus fit into it,
And who thus were to be fed without anything from him to get,
Would have a right to resolve, himself, on
His privileges as a humanitarian,
Instead of paying taxes for the benefit of all-out Mister Everybody
Who never personally seems to care about anyone in particular,
To declare to desist from paying the commoners obulus
In the form of obligatory taxes to his state of community of overriding dimensions,
Directly to support, and be it
Through even higher amounts of value than
The state otherwise should rip off from him,
Fully from his own pockets thus
His big-headed relative with the cap in his hand,
And, in a world which really traded with its money fairer,
This decision of such a person who knows to balance the responsibilities
Were to be accepted by his community's watchdogs,
As instantly as voluntary as, in a truly fairer world of money,
All members of the working society were expected
To be there and to stand in for their dear community and its needs -
Out of sheer co-operation in conscientious understanding with the heavy lots of the masses,
Wherein everyone flows along one's river of life -
Without having to pay back to any other big-headed
Contemporary with a cap in his hand -
The tax consultant, for that matter - yet most of the gains
From exemption of any harsh taxes that were
Granted after tedious & costly processed legal evaluations only.
The harsher the impetus exerted on people
To make them move and came up with their contributions
On behalf of the success of the society in which they have to function,
The lesser the appeal of getting oneself started up voluntarily
For any common good other than of one's own.
The true state of economical liberty, the third state in
Man's evolution of harmonious co-existence,
That were to have all remnants of harshness of the old money system eradicated
And that were neither endowed with the afore mentioned,
More relieved scheming of monetary management -
Though fairer in human dealings than in
The rude business persuader world of the first order,
Imperfect and not yet the best of best of its kind -
The second state of new economical freedom being
A mere transitional one, with more personal
Economical largesse of public responsibilities taken,
In which already the vision of overcoming totally all
Half-heartedness of people's panvoluntaristic endeavours
Has sprung up and spread out,
Itself but being a preliminary precursor to the ultimate ripening of
Ever-fair and never-ending and richly glorious times
For real in the life of everyone on the globe of divine hope
To arrive and to stay with us
In all households of countries and places
Throughout the whole world community -
Is achieved only then, when
An ultimate ban on money eventually will have been pronounced,
And heavenly bells have been ringing at this most festive moment of all times,
When on all corners of the far and wide earth,
The gates to a new modern-times paradise are flung up wide open,
For each and everyone of us humans to enter and to securely abide there,
Where humankind finally will be rid of all the basic root of evils
- With no come-back for that never rueful medium money,
That so shamelessly always consents to most
Of any crimes of passion done in the world,
Evermore thinkable -
The beginning of a totally new book of man's history
Through the third, conclusive, most simple step
In becoming
As free a being as any being on earth should be,
Most especially if in the case of a species
That treasures it to be called intelligent...
Why not then also be intelligent consequently by doing away with basic evil? !
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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15.
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Events That Make The Years Go Counted
Aeschylos, for one, was a famous dramatist in antique Greece,
At a time when humankind was adolescing,
his mind, like the high-flying minds of
a few others of contemporaries
of his young time, was sprouting youthfully spritely.
While now we humans are all seen leaning on crutches of all kinds of
shapes, rather than moving by one's own means:
on round wheeling crutches, without hoofs,
for the moving,
on keypadded toyboxes, forestalling one's own mind power of telepathy,
for the telecommunicating, having messages, tediously stalled out,
forklifted around through pied interface pipers
bent on exchanging looks of costly hertzian beams.
Whereas Mind's beams and God's star interfaces,
just free for the taking,
still don't charge any of us,
even one were to take a longer
more complex ride on highways of
the global net of telepathy.
How wayward could have times been in antiquity, when almost all things
of general knowledge that we, today, take for granted,
had still been open for the speculations;
thanks to Christ there were no inquisitions yet in the name of a lord
then!
But Aeschylos, if asked, wouldn't have come up with
that he was born in 525 BC. The number of the pre-Christian era years
being only a scientific projection,
counted out from our present standpoint in time.
Not that the ancient would have counted their years backward? ? !
What if we were to start counting our years backward now! ! ?
But Oh, weren't it then high time enough for us to do so? Hodieee! ! !
There is already 2000 years to go now, to reach on innocent point zero.
And for the numbers, if it were only for them,
there were no excuses,
don't let me be misunderstood.
Is this only a joke to anyone?
(Once a genuine longing for a new point-blank year-zero Great start of
new Hope of paradisical times were to set in,
in alignment with a new year numbering:
belatedly one easily could convert, for example, year 2006 into year
1994 Before the start of the New Era.
And go ahead and count the following year as 1993 Before the start of
the New Era...)
And, likewise belatedly, finally take down this 2000-year-old crucified
soul of God's son, for no more for Him always to have to ascend that
painful wretched cross of a throne
spilled over and over with blood,
each time a member of mind in His
calls out to the self in God's mind.
Are we really that much ridden by dumb blood of old wont? ? !
And this one now is no joke to me:
Why not just repair to toppling the system,
at one blow once and for all,
and to saying: 'Tomorrow we'll start at year zero,
all over again,
of a new order'? ? !
Radical changes of radical features naturally also presuppose radical
changes behind the features.
Now, which great thing,
to be built on such a heavy foundation,
durable enough to last through all times,
could it then be
that were to be counted out by a new round of our years starting at
zero,
by us and by all our future generations from us onwards,
after we would have taken down that crucifixion of our old system and
its lord? ?
I, for one, can see honestly only one thing
grand enough to be worthy of having all started all over from year
zero:
New Year Zero will be the first year after the general worldwide
abolition of money,
wholly replaced, as such, by a system of panvoluntaristic flow of all
'give and take'
practiced in perfect consensus
all over the world..
And Jesus Christ will be smiling ever more,
more than ever before,
not anymore having to wear that old worn-out crown of thorns any more,
each time a remembering face looked up
in a prayerful mood to him.
And all psychotropic drugs - that great cheat of a monster problem of
today -
will be considerately dealt out
per individual user & stuff licences, from year new zero onwards,
through the very ones who now still heat up the years through their
modern inquisitions of the Mind.
Only then young Aeschylos will have won all of his dramas,
and even such ones he not yet dared to dream about.
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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16.
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Festival Of Lights Of Good Fortunes - In Praise Of Goddess Lakshmi
Light up all your lights, dear friends, and
Keep the backdoors of your houses well-shut this day,
For it is Diwali - the Indian festival of lights.
Yet recalling old strains of bad luck,
Lady Good Luck's elder sister, Alakshmi of Indian imagery,
Seen roaming our spheres often in a
Twin face of Lakshmi of good fate,
Shall not be given any chances of sneaking
Into our houses through the backdoor,
At a time when Goddess Lakshmi and her
Higher envoys to attend on
Our blazing ambitions and high-lighted resolves,
With all Her good fortunes in trail,
Is being invited to share with us for a day in a year
The full shine of Her good times.
This is why we have set our
Lights flaring throughout this day and night, hoping to
Inveigle the Fortunate Goddess to enter and abide in our home, too.
But, mind you, dear friends!
Lady Good Luck might come and take just
A fast look around in our house,
Just to see for Herself what really there is behind
That outward display of glory of ours in Her name,
And vanish as swiftly as she came, through the backdoor,
When unheeded and left open.
On the turn of heels in flight,
Of which we may perceive but the fading tinkling of anklets
She might just come and go, so as not to be forsaking us
Once that we raised a big show of Her worship,
With the divinely lit house's backdoor not properly locked up.
Unless, indeed, we took good care of
Our house of life kept tidy,
Without all its side-way entries and its outlets,
Including the ones in the house we made of our mind,
Neatly shut up on this special divine occasion,
Neither our human Lakshmi-like invited neighbour will find time
To come and sit down and stay for longer in our house
For sharing a cup of tea and one's sweeties
Nor will the great Goddess, called on in all her Fullness
From all sides.
Lakshmi is a bit of a choosy Goddesss, as
All of us easily are to understand, her good lucks not
Befalling each and everyone regardless of
Any distinctions, and after Her great pattern
Also the ladies of lucky matches in our visible worlds are of
The rarest in our neighbourhood to be met with.
- Realizing the whole of life itself as
One grand system of symbolism of a kind -
Closed backdoors symbolically stand for: forgiving! ,
Disallowing wonted cumbersome inroads from past sorrows & frustrations.
When we want this good luck of divine Lakshmi's,
If perchance we were to befriend her on a Festival Day of Lights,
To stay with us for longer or for good, with
Her ever lush graces showering onto us this time of the season, and
Not only to pose as a mere facade on our life's house
Fading fast away in bland eyes,
Verily shouldn't we want Lakshmi to come and enjoy our gift of lights
As a guest who, pleased overly and royal only,
Will lovingly stay with us a regular in our house and
Make friendship with us a long-standing affair of steady nature?
... Once that, in the very first place, we've already
That much of good luck that
On our chosen celebrated Day of Lights
We've come to be dealing with a Great Goddess
One who can go all places and be with all sorts of people
All at the same time...
We are calling up, not the country's president,
Who most probably wouldn't either - just couldn't - come to our house,
Lest you're that big fish that I am not,
Or befriended since childhood,
A free, omnipresent and all-knowing Goddess it is, and
One with a mind of bountiful, generous Lakshmi it is that
We are calling up on this Day of Lights, one
Who never has ever forsaken anyone
With a sincere heartful of golden ambitions,
That had invited the Goddess of Good Fortune's inspiring Self
Over to take a seat in one's own house.
Never anyone's given by Her unfair treats,
Once She has come to be one's guest in the house,
Unlike as among us strictly humans,
As long as only people never trumpeted out
Divine plans of the Fortunes offered in Her hands
Before the sketches are written,
- With the house's backdoors always well shut on Her arrival.
Unexpectedly favourable circumstances,
Eventually evolving stately events to be handed out by
A fate turning its benevolent face toward us,
Will be seen naturally, in the wake of
Another Festival of Lights remembered
Happily for one long year ahead,
With good turns to come to pass in our lives,
That in due time will be sharing their lights of glory
With all these bright fest lights of
Oil-lamps and scented candles
We kindle in our wishful praise of Goddess Lakshmi.
This day that once again a summons has gone out from
Ancient India's greatest visionaries of truth, from her
Star readers of the divine tablets of laws
Inside of God's cosmic enfoldings,
Who had read the heavenly
ornamental hieroglyphs of enkindled beauty on fire
Written on our black sky boards - eternity's backdropp -
This day a summons has gone out for us
To be enhancing God's endless
Divine Light yet in finite rows & lines of human-made shines
Down here on our top grounds of
Cosmic life on earth - now and here in gay array,
Lakshmi's Light to be held aloof,
Befitting to Her status as the
Secret Queen of all the riches existing for real or dreamed about
By very precious sets of ornamental lamps,
As all Hindustan does on Her day of days,
Having them illuminated without break for one day & one night
In a symbolic/mental/cosmic inner & outer balance of harmony,
Whose aggrandized face of lights will be reflected
In all peaceful faces of spirited holiday revellers,
As it will be felt in the sweet inner delight
Within the latters' shining homes.
And if I but were allowed one personal comment on
What in the end I feel will warrantee
True success & good luck with
Lakshmi arriving at the doorstep of one's house,
It is that it will have to come hand-in-hand
with our very own positive personal socializer attitudes
Put to tests all the while in our
Daily dealings with one another,
The selfsame attitudes that make us, knowingly or unknowingly,
Look either proudly and overruling, or egoistic and anti-social,
Or friendly and practical and endearing
In the eyes not only of Lakshmi, but also in
Those of all our other contemporaries.
If anything good were to be harvested
In festivities based on celestial myths of fine heavenly rites,
Be they lavishly designed or just simply lit
Suprahuman events performed on men's treaded grounds,
We ourselves also, with our minds, will have to
Catch from the fire of our votive lamps
Sparkles of the divinely lighted motifs
And, gleaming from within with the fires of heaven's messengers,
Announcing, to alert us, the arrival of the Goddess' party
We'll finally hear Lakshmi's knock on our own main door.
After all, dear friend, isn't everything in matters human
One big issue of attitude in how we fare in life?
And isn't all well-faring even on the lower and also
On the higher stages of life poised on
Something like sound, wholesome attitudes,
Below the human level a balanced control of powers,
Above the common human reaches an endless
Flurry of soaring divine intuition?
These are the things I've always tried to keep in mind,
Along all other lines that go with a divine cause.
Naturally all this of what I'm saying here only applies
If someone really desires by one's self, and
Be it just for a day's occasion, to
Take a divine stroll
In a royal park of heavenly imagery, as of
Gay India's enlightened soulscapes, and to
Follow suit on a wonderful, grand belief
On a day of glory,
Kept vibrant in its mother country
From times immemorial right up to this day.
We all want good fortunes to prevail throughout
And for real in our lives, and
Not just for a moment or two, and
Neither for flashy effects only during
Pseudo shows that entertain the lesser fortuned! -
Aside from mustering up our faith in
'Spirit over Mind, and Mind over Matter',
We ought to have verily our lights burning physically!
- While God does see all of our unacted intentions,
It is only proper to prove that we mean
What we express by symbols
By virtually performing the rituals in universe time, just as
Children intuitively get themselves
Absorbed into simple games about life.
For bringing in the sacred momentum versus our own selves
In what we're doing to call up a great Goddess it is
That we keep on this day of Diwali, the Festival of Lights,
Great lamps glaring in our homes,
Remindful of the high essentials of the ancient myths, and of
Our benignly secretive mother Lakshmi, Lady of good lucks!
Celebrating Lakshmi's Day Of Lights makes for good entertainment,
'Tis a choice fun of street happenings,
If done so from house to house - and,
On top of all, 'tis
A wonderful life enhancer in general,
Attractively smiling lights of grace
Seen as one most wonderously lit face of happiness,
On a divine face with human features,
The face of Goddess.
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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