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Best Poems From
ERHARD HANS JOSEF LANG
(January 8,1957)
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33.
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Papa Pater Patrum Pererit Papissa Papellum
Following story is told in medieval chronicles
With reference to the legendary
Popesse Johanna VIII
- It is stated she was but a rival Pope on the throne,
Not accepted by all contemporaries of her days -
Who had originated from Germany,
Studied in the guise of a male in Athens and
Who had mounted the papal throne, likewise by
Pretending to be a male,
As John VIII in 855 and
Who was lynched and subsequently
Banned into a nunnery
After her giving birth in the streets of Rome
While on a papal procession in 858:
A little devil was seen descending at
The spot of the Pope's delivery of the baby,
And heard blurting out in triumph:
'Papa, Pater Patrum, pererit Papissa papellum'.
('The Pope, Father of Fathers, as Popesse,
gave birth to a small pope')
Eversince that event a new Pope-elect,
Before his inauguration, had been asked
To sit on a chair with a hole in its centre -
The so-called Sella stercoria,
From underneath of which chair a priest would come
To verify with his very hand
The male gender of the new Pope-to-be.
Only after the priest's announcing 'Habet'
(He's got it) was the Pope's election
Considered as valid.
* * * *
a contemporary lithography of the birth-giving Popesse of the year 858 may be viewed at http: //www.webimagesearchengine.com/upload/birth-giving-Popesse-Johanna-VIII-of-858.jpg
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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34.
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Pending The Finishing Of The Lore Of Human Science
This is an unfinished poem and it
Should have been meant to become
A poetical complimentary to any given
Introduction to a graphic exposé of scientific
Documentary account, written for humans on the
State of the Over-Mind and Its Intentionality
Within the constellar corpus of that monumental ethereal
Idea and its reflectional vibrations ploughing the vast field of cosmos
Which at Ife Ife, a greatest centre of God's primal creation of the species,
Led up to the coming out of new races of two-footed stalkers
On the face of Earth,
Fit to match all differing climes on Earth, all of them
Endowed with our very own brainy human head, perceived so uniquely
Expedient a nervous transmitter vehicle for
All kinds of mind stuff along
The cosmically configurated lanes
For a self-expressive blurting out of Over-Mind in rational units
Burnt and born into seed matters of handy small-time segments in a big world
Rising out of ignorance,
But this lore of most interesting matter to us humans
Is as of now still waiting to be delivered in words agreeable to all thinkers,
If ever discovered by those greatest heads of science
In times to come.
Thus, for the meantime, while
The finishing of the lore of human science is still pending,
We'll have to strictly abide by the available
Mystical mythical transliterations of the factuality of the birth of homo sapiens,
And with what the good poets of different cultures and creeds have
To say by means of their visionary insights on
This most basic thing in cosmos, Mind and Its immense creativity,
Which mathematical sciences and their fine explorer tools may never be able to grope for at all.
A realm of secrets to be purged of its dross of historic indeliniatability,
Never by mathematics, but
By metathematics solely?
Or would science yet learn how to open up the pearls of truth
Lying hidden in the ocean of high soaring seers' fantasy?
So that this poem on the finishing of the lore of human science could ever be finished?
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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35.
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Penniless Pride Of Pristine Feathers And Claws
With his imago ever since childhood having been more like that of a
Swift-footed jungle boy's
Who rambles through all of nature's grounds,
Rain or shine, if it were,
On fleet feet born of great young love,
While his in-born humble nature wooing
Most of the time he as fondly would lay bare,
With steps literally
Touching to the earth, while pressing forward
On the very nerve of good times,
With him and some settler's boy, reared like free colts by the countryside, ever
Mating with creation, jumping jolly
Across all sunny greens & shady forests of the boyhood days,
Gambolling ever playfully on meads and lakesites, nearby and afar,
At hide and seek with cows and calves, sprinting
Around hidden ponds, often only to be
Falling serene over romantic scenes at dusk with
Dragonflies blinking meaningfully
Amidst frogs and birds over waters kissed good-night by the setting Sun, along with
Contests of proclamations of
The Joy of the day's height,
While deeply, for a youngster, thus having experienced
Highly light-winged and very energetic feelings of life's force right there
In the lap of Mother earth,
As butterflies do, that no giant power may ever entrap,
In perfect harmony with the aweful boars, vipers and deer at closest range,
It so happened, that when as a grown man in his mid-forties -
Born a Westerner that he was but
Deep down inside of himself still being the very same jungle boy of old -
Later on in life he once wended his ways,
Clad traditional like any local man from Southern India's culture,
While also then bonding with the hallowed soil of
The Tamils' country where he was going about at the time being
With deepened sensations,
On feet likewise bared up to his down-to-earth attitude of
Being part and parcel of everything and the world naturally,
In a laissez-faire way of soleful gait,
At a time now in these post-modern days, when
Even in India, though rooted in age-old and beautiful traditions of
Cosmically empowered, solitary and congregational, divine merrymaking,
As chiefs of magically potent revelations since times immemorial
Have known to sport all of nature's powers - good or bad - in best possible ways,
- Professing highest souls of seers, in front of
Awe-struck people on silent soles,
Revered for their blessings from aloof -
Witnessing to prove all events to be taken
As distant but near echoings from drama plays on the cosmic stage,
Dramas of most fantastic gods and goddesses of
Translucently realistical, most refined figurings, that,
Most vibrantly alive, are worshipped again and again
So as for them to eventually be reining in regally
On one's happiness in life
By acknowledging a devoutly engaged interactive human players' part in overmind, so
Beautifully elated and enchantingly charged,
With this, or something like it, being the prevalent arena of emotions,
At a time when, thus, even in great free-spirited India's deepest provinces meanwhile
The antennas of the englobalizing television stations had started
To spread out their pictures 'from US' along with
The impending impressions and notions, such as
That boys and girls in other parts of the world,
Outside the fold of their own mother's culture, do
Hold very differently shaped ideals of what makes up for good forms and for true beauty,
And that in Western countries it were regarded
Rather as something cheap
For a poor teenage girl to be pawing and slurring her walks just
Like any cat in the streets does, when off on errands or to school,
Afoot on soles only running hot,
Starched by dust and by grime,
- Foreign notions prone to confound the young head of a
Proud young girl of Hindu feathers and claws,
To whom, well aware of her charms,
It would signal merely an untruth belieing her inner feelings
As what kind of cute birdie she felt she was,
If she were to demand for herself all of a sudden to
Imitate the trendy and be
Going out anything else from going out as ever before
Simply on earth-bound feet that she so subtly knows to beautify? -,
One such young traditionally dressed local teenage girl,
Who had noticed our Western nature boy and
Friend of the Oriental Indian design, walking in the street;
- His simple outfit being simple as that of the truly meek and great souls, and he was
- On bare feet, as she was, who
Came up to meet him, as he meanwhile had noticed her alike,
Halfways on the town's lane
- On him a plain longgi, a length of
Wide cloth wrapped around his waist
Tucked up to his knees in style,
She in a fashionably designed young girl's floral dress -
And who reached out her hand towards his for an intercultural handshake of two souls
That would leave the two with a feeling
Of having understood each other
By way, only, of the other person's aura and display of style,
With not a single word that would have been required to be spoken,
- And she let the single rupee coin that accidentally happened to have been
Held in the palm of the Westerner's hand at the time, and which
During the handshake, by itself, had slipped over into her palm of the hand, proudly
Drop through her fingers and down to the ground,
With him, so as to reassure the girl's good sense of her own intuition,
Signalling to be sensitive enough himself to mend
Any eventually wrong interpretations of what happened
By immediately picking up the dropped coin, stowing it away into his pocket,
And by offering his hand for a new re-enactment of the handshake that was
Meant to be nothing else but one of a deeply personal intercultural meaning
- Without any money involved that time around -
Exactly as what the young dark beauty obviously had intended it to be,
Letting her thereby know that both of them had indeed grasped the mutual unspeakable point of the matter,
And they seized each other's hand spontaneously for a second time,
Completing their intercultural handshake, not without a certain pride,
Both of them smiling and thereafter getting off again on their own ways.
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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36.
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Personalized Overflow Of Three Rivers' Mighty Confluence
Threefold is the source of the fluid-liquid element.
The flow of rivers on the Earth
Are but imitations of the flowing principle and
The tides in cosmic spheres, as it is,
On the planetary plane.
The streaming of the fluid elements in all of this station Earth's waterways,
In its unseeable, though most widely spread momentum
Is kept aflowing with its fuel for the rover's mobility ever self-generated
From the deepest gurgling in the underground plants of
The Earth's cisterns and caverns
Through Nature's raingod-supervised complex recycling machinery,
Working in between the laden skies,
The catalyzing agents of the air we all breathe, and
The solid soiled grounds below our feet,
Way up and way over, for all of them, in the end,
In most tremendous onslaughts of power in Nature at work,
Jointly flowing in unison of biggest nature,
Grandest scene of all times and
Throughout the three worlds of current elements in the universe,
Yet to be gushing
Into these most paleo-ontological and hugest ocean beds of ours
On the surface of this planet earth of oddmost spinnings.
As in some instances the mystic triad of the many-layered cosmic fluidum
Comes to even manifest itself,
In moody display of a weaponry of arms of an ordinance
Higher than the plainly disorganized physical
And organized human plane,
A show by spirited gods with a naughty interest in making certain matters coincide,
As a figure of three-in-one, in the very landscapes
Where divine Nature's human think-tank heads sport about -
'Hey, can't you really, really remember me any more, after all? ' -
While a traveller through Southern India's highlands, and
The only third-party member in a group of
Otherwise British and local Tamil girls and boys,
I was about to break away from so I'd be
Free to take a different route more appealing to my personal interests,
As I was standing on a corner,
The hushed voice of a deep and long, silent stare into my eyes
By a foreign face, which came out of the blue,
Spoke to me
The face of a young traveller, another German, like myself,
Who had come near where I was standing to meet with me.
Only after eventually lending speech to what
His eyes fixed on me could not reveal
It became clear to me that the young tourist was
My one-time chance lodge mate in another South Indian
Highland spot, not all too far from where we then met again,
Some two years prior to our renewed seeing each other.
During our first short time together
I had become used to be looking into the face of a companion
With long shiny hair billowing down onto his shoulders,
With whom I then had gone on one day
On a long walk-about out in nature through forests and mountain villages
Within the range of the hillstation where we both and his then girl-friend were lodged,
Whereas the young man's mane from times before
At that second instant of our meeting one another had been no more.
My unexpected newly met friend from before,
In addition to the travel company in whose hired van
I had come up to that very town there
With me, myself, thus was to make up for a set of three -
Who, each of us, then had happened to be, at the same time,
At a place of confluence of three rivers
In a highland town - called Three Rivers -
'Munnu aaru' in the language of South India,
Named so after three rivulets that
Unite into one stream of current
Right there at Munnaar,
In the borderland between the Indian states of Kerala and Tamil Nadu.
Three of a kind swept onto the same shore
On the brinks of chance with the flow of time,
Is a deep cosmic event that
Hails from spheres higher than our small world's,
As such an engaging source of inspiration that reminds us also to
Get the world moving on by resolute leaps of triple strides.
Causes and reasons, pleadings and reasonings,
Decisions and intentions,
When only the gods are in a mood to be smiling on us,
Will work themselves out at once
In Three Rivers, flowing together.
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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