I realised the art of Prosody about 25 years ago, while attending lectures at Polytechnic. Daydreaming to get through those boring times. On pieces of foolscap paper bought by a Sponsorship grant. I would scribble and write; adding my opinions to the 'state of the world' and on whatever subject I would choose. However, my viewpoint was always in the abstract. I always made the mundane appear mystical and intriguing. I always wrote 'words with meanings hidden'. Scribblings on scraps of paper. In files. In drawers. I never did anything with them. Indeed over the last few months, aside from appearances in selected forums, my 'poetry' has rarely been shared with Joe Public.
Trusted friends would get airings of those pieces which I considered worthy of readings. There are tens of thousands of writings in dozens of volumes. My family has read little; is truly unaware of what the content it. They just knew it was 'therapy' for me to get through the troubles of life. My late father was presented with a volume during one of his stints in Hospital about 15 years ago. He admitted to enjoying the writings. He understood their intentions. He knew there was a hidden meaning to them.
On first viewing they appear unorthodox. There is no apparent style. There is no typical or traditional layout; except a layout and a style all of their own. A writer's circle which I once attended enjoyed a number of pieces; pompous twits that they were; they coined the phrase prosody to describe them. It has stuck ever since. So has semantics. My science then I suppose then is semasiology - The branch of semantics that studies the cognitive aspects of meaning - I try to fathom the meanings of my workings which I know are immersed in cryptic meanings. Many of which I fathon.
However, in all of this I recognised my layout and style for what it is. A perfect tool and perfect medium for getting my information across to a unsuspecting world. My writings exist on multiple levels. Not everyone will catch the deeper drift but those who are supposed to. Therefore, I proposed several years ago to continue with the style of writing I have adopted; leaving everything in the format they were first written including grammatical and spelling mistakes (there are many).
The unsuspecting reader, who I often term 'the fly' will therefore feast their eyes on my writings (the web) and I will then entice them along the corridors which will open out before them. My writings I know to be energised. They are lit by something powerfully mystic. Therefore instead of the traditional occultic and philosophical essays which are in the traditional style of paragraphs and sentences; which become boring and lose the reader after the first few minutes; my workings are a perfect way of getting a message through. The truth immersed in the prosody.
I find it to be a very enigmatic way of spreading the light and the information which has been provided to me in those moments of higher dimensional connection via the mediation conduit which exists in my consciousness.
Hence the numerous pieces of semantics/prosody which appear in this blog. Read and read them again oh fly, because there is wisdom and mystery and truth and wonder in what is written in those passages. My message is presented in the least likely of places.
