Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Happy Birthday L. Ron Hubbard !

Lafayette Ronald Hubbard

Today is birthday of an American pulp fiction author Lafayette Ronald Hubbard. Hubbard (March 13, 1911 – January 24, 1986) is best known for his science fiction and fantasy stories. He subsequently developed his ideas into a wide-ranging set of doctrines and rituals as part of a new religious movement that he called Scientology. His writings became the guiding texts for the Church of Scientology and a number of affiliated organizations that address such diverse topics as business administration, literacy and drug rehabilitation. Presenting some poems : Being Poet

DEATH
Death
Hovers on muted wings,
While we
Wait breathlessly
And blind.
AN ODE TO CIRCUITS*
have a deity
It sits
Upon a mist
And says
Nuts
LOST
Lost to the brightness of morning
Stopped short of sunset’s cool glow
Battered and twisted and missing
In the doom where the lost storms go
Not known were the laws of the Holy
Confused were the courses thou ran
Tangled in webs of thy making
Failed because thy name is Man.
A BRIDGE
Bridge
That swings
Above
A Stream
A high proud bridge
With cables
A bridge which leads
Away
From there to
Green and red far shores
A bridge which has
A sign
Which says
“Foot passengers five cents.”
STONE AGE RELIGION
 n a delicate
diet of virgin
The Image
resplendently
dined
With ogle eyes
smiling like
sturgeon
And populace
kindly inclined
I KNEW HIM WHEN
he wine was good.
I knew him when.
He had a flight of steps.
He had a maid
He had three cars
He had a wife with a lorgnette.
The wine was good,
I knew him when.
But shoes are hid beneath my chair.
My tie is tied
Where it is worn
My shirt had sleeves
My coat. . . .
The wine was good
So was his face
I knew him when, you see.
But guests were coming
And I stood
and listened
Across from those
Lighted windows.
You see
I only knew him when.
FROM SEA OF DREAMS
rom Sea of Dreams
To Rainbow Gulf
He danced
A Rigadoon
From Astro Bay
To Diamond Cliff
The Mountains of
The Moon
He balleted
And curvetted
And swept
A wide
Fandango
What graceful waste
In airless
Space
His fabulous
Tarango--
From here to
There and
There to
Here
In waltzes ungravitic
He spun the whole of
Lunar space in
Gyrates troglodytic
Why why this dance
Of astral
Plane
Sans audience or
Reason
Who who this mad
Time footed lad
Such waste
Of dance is
Treason.
THERE IS NO COMPROMISE WITH TRUTH
here are those
who would have me compromise with truth and tell you other things,
for greed and popularity
for lies might then resound
my name
and theirs into
some future state of granite and concrete.
But then
there is no war not based on lies,
there is no infamy alive without
its kindred kin, deceit.
For I care nothing, yes and less
for fame
or for the crowd
whose howls are music to a fool
but din
to me.
Truth
alone can echo far and as it springs
from spirit so
alone can outlive clay.
And if in speaking as a spirit men
forget as men most often do
my name
then it is naught
to me.
For there is truth in that
a name to live
must speak
in riddles or in lies.