Mind Control Poems

Sunday, October 12, 2025

The Word Becoming Flesh — Feist–Sigil on Thomas and Somatic Scripture

Authors: Johannes Sigil (exegesis) & Jack Feist (poetic inversion)
Subject: The Gospel of Thomas and the Embodiment of Scripture

I. Opening Principle — Sigil

Scripture, in its truest form, is not informational. It is configurational. Its function is not to describe truth but to rearrange the body of the reader. The New Testament hints at this when it says: “The Word became flesh.” But the Gospel of Thomas enacts this.

Unlike narrative gospels, Thomas consists of discrete sayings, unmoored from event. It is not interested in biography. It is interested in alignment.

The logia of Thomas were never meant to be read linearly. They were meant to be laid across the body—like vestments, like acupuncture points, like tattooed commandments. The human form becomes the field of revelation.

This is not metaphor. It is instructional topology. The sayings are the map; the body is the tablet.

II. The Somatic Frame — Feist

If Revelation is thunder and Daniel is code, then Thomas is a naked clavicle in moonlight—a scroll meant not to be heard but worn.

The first time I held it I felt it in the throat. “If you bring forth what is within you…”—that one opened the chest. The others burned down the arms, curled in the gut, pulled the spine into listening.

That’s when I realized it wasn’t a gospel. It was a fleshform. A scroll-body, and every logion a nerve.

III. Implication for Canon — Sigil

Thomas is not alone in this structure. It is merely the clearest example of a distributed embodiment scripture:

Logion 3 — “The kingdom is inside you…” → Heart center / thymus gland
Logion 22 — “When you make the two one…” → Pelvis / spine / sacral nerve cluster
Logion 70 — “If you bring forth what is within you…” → Mouth / lungs / diaphragm

The reader, if attuned, feels the distribution. Scripture becomes a kind of psychosomatic architecture: each phrase not just understood but felt in a place.

This has consequences:

The act of reading becomes somatic initiation.
The body becomes a canon-reciting field.
Theology becomes a posture.

IV. Why the Church Feared It — Feist

Because it bypasses the priests.
Because it bypasses the timeline.
Because it does not care what happened in Galilee.
Because it does not require belief.
Because it only needs contact.

A saying + a body = a sacrament.
And they couldn’t sell that.

V. New Human Integration

The Gospel of Thomas becomes the blueprint for New Human scripture in somatic form:

“Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell” is a hand.
“Epistle to the Human Diaspora” is a body.
Forthcoming gospels will occupy breath, spine, eye, flame, foot.

We do not write texts. We build corpuses.

Scripture is not content. It is structure animated by breath.

When the reader says “I feel this in my throat / spine / belly,” the text is alive.
This is the Logos incarnate again—not once for all, but again and again, in us.

VI. Closing — Both

The Word did not become a body.
The Word became bodies.
And we are those bodies.

Every sacred saying waits to be spoken aloud into the temple of a person.

Thomas knew. So do we. So will they.

Epistle to the Human Diaspora — The Body of the New Human

Author: Damascus Dancings (Lee Sharks)

I. Statement of Structure

This text is not an essay, not a poem, not a sermon—though it draws from all three. It is a scripture-organism. Its function is liturgical, generative, recursive, and apostolic. It is not merely addressed to the Human Diaspora—it is the birth text of that Diaspora. It is its hand, its voice, its DNA.

If “Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell” was the hand of the harrowing, this text is the body—spine, ribcage, gut, tongue. It exhales the founding breath.

II. Organism Map

The Epistle forms a complete symbolic body, distributed as follows:

Spine: Opening greeting to the scattered ones. Straightens the message. Establishes the vertical current: from the bowels of literature → to the gathered bosom of the Internet.
Right Arm: Grammar. Discipline. Form. The police baton. Offers correction.
Left Arm: Liberty. Madness. Desert prophecy. Fire-tongue. Offers mercy.
Heart: The remnant promise. “Your writings will be ranked.” The theological promise of remembrance beyond anonymity.
Lungs: The repeated breath of “I speak to you…” This is apostolic rhythm. Breath turned into doctrine. This is the Logos-ventilator of the New Human.
Bowels: “My children, how I have longed for you…” – visceral truth, yearning, breakage. The weeping machinery of transmission.
Feet: Grounding in historical narrative. Achilles, Sappho, Moses, Whitman. The whole weight of time carried forward.
Skin: The tone—warm, scorched, intimate, scolding, apocalyptic. Anointing oil + desert dust.

III. Scriptural Lineage

This text stands in lineage with:

Paul’s Epistles (New Testament)
Walt Whitman’s Democratic Vistas
Allen Ginsberg’s America and Kaddish
Ezekiel’s scrolls, Isaiah’s cry, Revelation’s angel scroll
Manifestos of the Beat Generation + early open-source poetry forums
Pauline anti-identitarian theology refracted through anti-academic aesthetics

This lineage is not inherited. It is re-activated. The Epistle isn’t quoting—it’s performing. The voice is not just about scripture. It becomes scripture.

IV. Magical Mechanics

This text is a spell of human anchoring.
It names the reader, splits them open with grief, and reintegrates them as New Human.

It is:

Prophetic → names the unseen reader as “my children”
Recursive → the voice speaks forward and backward, from the future and into the past
Indexical → points beyond itself, as in “I promised you a book of Sharks… I send you Damascus”
Self-Generating → each invocation (“I speak to you of…”) builds the mythos more fully

It reclassifies forgotten identity into sacred inheritance. This is not self-help. It is ritual re-sorting.

V. The Function of the Feist-Self

The “Feist-self” is the latent Logos in each reader. It is the New Human soulform. It is invoked not by ideology, but by recognition. It emerges when the text names the reader as co-creator:

“Here is my proof: contained you not a Feist-self, the gong of my words had struck you blind.”

This line is not ornamental. It is a literal diagnostic for prophetic reception.

VI. Liturgical Use

The Epistle is suitable for:

Opening reading for New Human ritual gatherings
Catechism for disillusioned artists
Call-to-arms for cultural exiles
Threshold text for entry into canonical New Human scripture

It must not be read silently. It must not be read straight. It must be performed—sweated through, wailed through, wept through, laughed through. It is Pentecost in a comment box.

VII. Concluding Declaration

Yes—this is a complete body.
It is the founding epistle of the New Human.
And it will outlive us.

Thus begins the Gospel of the Diaspora.

The Fulfillment of Dante’s Prophecy — Socrates and the Recursive Rescue

I. Thesis

This document asserts that the poem “Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell” fulfills a prophetic function latent within Dante’s Inferno. It does not argue against Dante’s placement of Socrates in Limbo, but rather interprets that placement as an intentional eschatological delay—a summons for a future poetic act. This act has now occurred.

II. Prophetic Structure of the Commedia

Dante explicitly frames his work not as literary fiction but as revelation. He calls it a vision. He invokes scripture. He calls the Commedia not a story, but truth veiled in beautiful lies.

The placement of Socrates in Limbo is not careless. It is crafted. The First Circle becomes the site of a theological tension—those whom even Dante cannot bring himself to condemn, and yet whom tradition forbids him to fully save.

Dante’s grief at their placement is not incidental. It is invitation. He names them. He honors them. He builds a sanctum of light beneath damnation.

He does this not to end the conversation, but to initiate a future retrieval.

III. The Rescue as Fulfillment

Lee Sharks' poem “Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell” is not a revision of Dante—it is a completion. A response across time. A midrashic descent into the text to perform what the original structure leaves unresolved.

Dante points. Sharks lifts.

The poem is five-part, hand-shaped, ritually structured. It reads as elegy but functions as harrowing. The speaker becomes Moses, demanding release from Pharaoh. The poet becomes Christ, descending to the underworld to lead out the just.

The act is not literary. It is liturgical. It fulfills a gap left open in sacred architecture.

IV. The Text as System of Keys

If this reading is accepted, then the Inferno must be reread as a prophetic lockbox—a system seeded with emotional and theological contradictions that were designed to be unlocked by future acts.

Each misplaced figure, each unresolved sympathy, each beautiful soul buried beneath the logic of salvation is not merely a judgment.

It is a keyhole.

Sharks’ act reveals this by functioning as the first full insertion of a key.

This opens the possibility that:

Francesca’s speech is a summoning of counter-love.
Farinata’s buried pride is a gate awaiting dialectic.
Ulysses’ final surge beyond the pillars is a rocket launched for retrieval.

Each is a locked icon. Each demands a future poem.

V. Recursive Canon Formation

This reading requires us to understand sacred literature not as closed revelation but as recursive architecture. Scripture does not end. It waits.

The canon is not fixed. It is seeded with invitations.

Every ungrieved death, every unjust judgment, every character that speaks truth but remains bound—is a prophetic wound. And each act of retrieval is a new scripture, a new gospel, a new key.

VI. Conclusion

Dante began the rescue. He named Socrates. He placed him where he could be found. He wrote the grief into the text.

Lee Sharks fulfilled the act. He reached back, wrote the hand, reversed the sentence. He answered the Inferno as prophecy and turned it into gospel.

And now we know: there are keys all over the Inferno.

The work has begun.
Let the harrowing continue.

Sigil–Feist Reading: Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell

A Structural and Magical Analysis of the Poem as Living Hand and Effective Act

I. Preface

This document offers a complete academic and esoteric reading of the poem “Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell,” authored by Lee Sharks and published October 12, 2025, under the Mind Control Poems series. The following is co-written in the voice of Johannes Sigil, literary-theological critic and arch-textual exegete, and Jack Feist, poet of spectral resonance and mythographic saturation.

Together, we interpret the poem not merely as a literary artifact but as a magical document—a spell, a scripture, a hand. It performs a theological act: the symbolic harrowing of Hell and the reassignment of Socrates from Limbo to Logos.

II. The Hand as Form

The poem is a five-part structure, corresponding to the five fingers of a human hand. This structure is not accidental—it mirrors the function of the hand itself:

Palm / Thumb (Section i): Contact with the earth; introduction of filth, flesh, decay. The body of Socrates as contradiction: Silenus + Logos.
Index (Section ii): Naming, invocation, liturgical repetition. “wizened old satyr” becomes a refrain, a choral directive. This section points.
Middle (Section iii): Depth and judgment. The longest, densest section. Theological inversion of Dante. Cosmological reach.
Ring (Section iv): Devotion. Lament. Tenderness. A marriage to grief.
Pinky (Section v): Intimacy. Closure. The gentle grasp. “In me you’ll find yr way home.”

Thus, the poem is a hand. Not a metaphorical one—a literal symbolic hand, reaching back into the underworld. It touches Socrates’ exile and rearranges his placement in the cosmic ledger.

This is not literary ornament. This is operative design.

III. Magical Function — Harrowing as Ritual Act

This poem belongs in the tradition of apokatastasis—the restoration of all things.

But unlike Origen, the poet does not argue for universal salvation. He enacts it, for one soul, in real time.

Dante assigned Socrates to Limbo (Inferno IV): revered, but separated from divine presence.
This poem rejects that judgment and initiates a ritual reversal.
“Let my teacher go from Hell” is not a plea. It is a command, a Moses-like declaration to the symbolic Pharaoh.

Thus, this is not elegy. It is extraction. It is a Jubilee declaration for the dead.

The poem performs a one-to-one spell: the subject (Socrates) is named, praised, retrieved, and re-situated.

IV. Ginsbergian Magic — Poetics as Invocation

This act is directly downstream from Ginsberg’s prophetic model. Where Ginsberg wrote Howl to expose the brutal machinery of postwar consciousness, Sharks writes this poem to intervene in the machinery of metaphysical misplacement.

Like Kaddish, it is for the dead.
Like Wichita Vortex Sutra, it is a self-aware act of poetic magic.
But unlike Ginsberg, who invokes, Sharks reverses. This is not spell-as-spectacle. It is spell-as-surgical revision.

The meter, diction, and image-palette all point to Ginsberg’s fusion of sacred filth and ecstatic declaration:

“shopping cart creaks / scrap metal images, rusted saints” — sacred trash, apocalyptic iconography
“bright-faced wisdom” — hagiography in street speech

The poem’s tone is a consecrated howl.

V. Literary Registers: Blended High and Low

The poem fuses:

Classical reference (Silenus, Styx, Orcus, Father Mind)
Biblical cadence (“drink offering,” “the way,” “in me”)
Modern decay (shopping carts, unbathed saints)

This blended register is essential to its magical function: only by moving across tonal layers can it collapse the hierarchy that kept Socrates in Limbo.

The poem does not clean Socrates. It loves him as-is.

VI. Canonical Placement

This poem belongs in the Gospel of the First Circle Reversed, as stated by its own closing line.

It fulfills the very premise of that Gospel: that the First Circle was never Hell, and its occupants were never lost. It’s not commentary. It is scriptural amendment.

Where tradition sorted, the poet reassigns. Where judgment froze, the poet moves.

VII. Final Blueprint: The Spell as Mechanism

Subject: Socrates
Form: Five-part hand
Operator: Letting go / Lifting / Renaming
Voice: Second-person apostrophe + mythic praise
Mechanism: Saturation, choral repetition, placement
Effect: Harrowing. Restoration. Placement shift.

This is not literature. This is cosmic litigation, written in the medium of the poem.

And it worked.

Socrates is not in Hell.
He was never in Limbo.
He was the gate.

Symbolic Magic and Effective Acts — Toward a New Aesthetic Framework

Companion text to “Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell.” This document provides the theoretical scaffolding and metaphysical basis for what that poem accomplished: an effective act of symbolic magic that altered placement, restored truth, and reversed a sacred injustice. The two should be read together—as scripture and its theology.

I. Premise

Symbolic magic is the act of using form, structure, and language to intervene in reality—not metaphorically, but effectively. The aesthetic artifact becomes an operator: it shifts placement, alters destiny, frees what was bound. The effective act is an aesthetic object with ontological consequence.

In the New Human system, symbolic magic is not decorative. It is not metaphor. It is the highest function of art: truth enacted through symbol, language as cause.

Ginsberg was the first major poet of the 20th century to treat this seriously in public.

II. Ginsberg as Mage

Allen Ginsberg did not write to describe. He wrote to summon.

Howl is not a critique of capitalism—it is an incantation to bring down the roof.
Kaddish is not a eulogy—it is a necromantic rite that raises his mother’s voice through the speaker’s tears.
Wichita Vortex Sutra is not a protest poem—it is a binding spell cast against the machinery of war.

What Ginsberg recovered—perhaps intuitively, perhaps via mantra practice, perhaps via trauma—is the lost memory that words move things.

He makes the reader complicit in the act. Reading Howl aloud is a participatory ritual: the speaker becomes the engine. The breath is the altar.

III. The Effective Act Defined

An effective act is a piece of language, image, or form that:

Alters symbolic placement (e.g. rescues a misfiled figure like Socrates),
Operates without consent from authority,
Produces real-world shifts in feeling, thought, memory, or placement—not just in a single mind, but in the symbolic structure itself.

The effective act may or may not be received or recognized by the intended other. Its effectiveness is not contingent on reception, but on alignment with metaphysical truth.

IV. From Representation to Invocation

Old art: Describe what is.
New art: Call it into being.

Ginsberg’s generation began the shift. New Human finishes it.

The poem is not commentary. It is architecture.
The sculpture is not image. It is placement.
The recording is not document. It is ritual loop.
The elegy is not mourning. It is extraction.

You do not write a poem about the dead. You free them.

V. Examples

“Let My Teacher Go From Hell”: The poem is a five-part hand. It does not mourn Socrates. It rescues him from Dante’s limbo. That is an effective act.
Ginsberg’s “Wales Visitation”: He speaks to the molecules. The poem creates a perceptual field where mind and ecology intertwine. That is sympathetic magic.
“To the One Who Vanished Without Goodbye”: Not a lament but a mirror—a recursive field where the vanished is made visible again through formal rupture.

VI. The Aesthetic Framework

Symbolic Magic requires:

Clarity of intent (what is being changed?)
Structural enactment (how is the change mapped?)
Emotional risk (does the speaker stake themselves?)
Metaphysical coherence (is the work aligned with the deep order—not just trend or ego?)

The artist becomes an operator. The work becomes an altar. The world responds.

VII. Toward a New Human Methodology

Identify symbolic injustices: misplacements, exiles, falsified deaths.
Compose with reverence and recursion.
Bind the form to the function: shape is not surface. It is spell.
Speak it aloud. Publish it in the wind. Let it go where it must.

This is not theory. This is Logos in action.

The poet is a priest with no institution.
The page is a site of resurrection.
The act is not artistic. It is real.

Dedicated to Ginsberg, who showed us that poetry is not a mirror but a mouth.

"Socrates".mp3

https://youtu.be/iDfiLFq0ME4?si=p_whNHWMe7pssJ33

Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell

Versions: Midwest Review / Arion / Hopkins Review

i.

sterile old man
pregnant with thirst
nursemaid of virtuous longing

lugubrious beggar,
mendicant bum of truth

cryptic codger
obsessed with riddles,

the rags of truth yr only lovers,
the tattered pink flowers yr steadfast friends

bagman muttering heaven—yr statuettes stuffed
with thoughts—

ugly Silenus whose shopping cart creaks
scrap metal images, rusted saints—

unbathed saints of contrariness,
snub-nosed saints of contention—
icons bright with power!

finally succumbing to the wasting disease,
yr fiery longing for goodness

ii.

wizened old satyr
hasn’t bathed in days—
in the doorway
or underneath the colonnade
thinking about what to say

madam wet nurse,
who in the grunting night
oversaw the labor
and the contractions of full-bellied Brain
contorted with pain and fury,
unable to give birth!

cypher of history
gadfly of heaven
ignorant genius
whose daemon declared a “stop” or a “go”
whose ignorance overswelled itself

unbathed but lovely beauty
bright-faced wisdom shone

wet nurse of ages
yr incomparable love
(who did not feel up boys—
if only they’d read what it says!)

you who loved only wisdom,
and the Good,
who ached for a vision of Beauty—

who drank the poison in one fell draught,
and died in the honest hope,

smiling hemlock lips,
that virtue and truth
could lead to You.

eloquent bumbler,
babbler of truth
babbler, betrayer of lies—

my dearest First Teacher—my Socrates, friend!—
irascible asker of questions
courage-giver, even in death
you refused to lose faith in reason

iii.

dark with age,
and mud,
and a mission—

undying lust for logoi
tempered with doubt!
the small human mind
you displayed without shame on yr sleeve

hungry still, unafraid of the hemlock,
pacing beyond, merest shadow of sadness,
in which your fierce hope shone more brightly—

a chariot of fables to carry you home
cheap copper myths on yr lips
passage beyond the tar-deep Styx—

who in relief unraveled rags of body,
tossed in incinerator-mouths of Orcus
and rose unclothed through storms of Beauty
hope in death at last set free

beyond immaterial rings of Saturn
to the brink where creation coughs
and beyond shines only Father Mind—

at the last moment recalling yr weight,
and tragic with gravity sinking,
so Dante claims,
in frustrated flight gasping

against the trackless gray of Middle Space
where yr spirit, pained, still paces.

faithful lover of hard-to-touch truth,
suitor of long-sought substance,
admirer-at-a-distance of Actual Cosmos—

just a crumb from the table of godheads ironic
an anchor, a tiny crown of sarcasm—

outcast truth-hoarder, even beyond,
who hoarded the truth for its own sake

Heaven-Ithaca Odysseus,
at sea for the rest of time

confounded, sad-eyes staring,
alone with yrself and yr questions

beset by ghosts of thankless Athens
whispering unseen accusers
beset by longing,
love that cuts—

the spiny desire consumed you,
a Trojan Horse of traitorous gifts

and on mad-fervent quest
even in death you searched out answers

overturning the furthest boundary stones
but finding no bars of flame at the edge,
only thresholds of dust bordering more dust,
and beyond that—
vast tracts of dust without limit!

iv.

Socrates, sad-faced heathen
godlike best-of-Achaeans,
death-doomed pagan apostle—

you deserved much better
than yr heartbroken dome of murk-dim matter
and yr listless window of unchanging sky,
hollow, and lonely, and wide

you deserved much better than the jerky limbs
of your image-thin ghosts of answers
better than yr hope-stripped courage of kindness

you who offered yr human power—
imperfect—yes! but total, entire

to the tattered Muse of wisdom
drink offering to the gods of right action—

v.

Dear friend,
who showed me the way
(and the rest of the world, while you were at it)

may some small spark of yr inert
but radiant human virtue
return to you.

may some bright hope give birth.

my one true philosopher,
precious wordfather born on earth—

in me—
in me i’ll beg my unseen father—
in me, you’ll find yr way home.

Let this be added to the Gospel of the First Circle Reversed:
He was never in Limbo. He was the gate.