Repeating Repetition again

One unexpected bonus of being back in America was having all of my notebooks back. I had some with me when I left and they were helpful. Once back I reread the original version of Repetition and decided to redo it for the website to include all of what was left out and put it back in its original order. It was not the best collection, nor did it have the best outtakes, but it was time to do it. While I was working on it, spending most of a day on it, I read Jonathan Schell's article version of Too Late for Empire. It uses the word repetition repeatedly, and the concept. While searching for that article to mention here, I found a similarly good one by Russell Drake from 2004. But my poetry collection called Repetition was not about political psychology, but was instead about deja vu. Here are some of the best lines including the lost end stanza of Monomania...

We search for truth but we seem to find
that beyond ourselves we still are blind

Wishes and hopes become our purposes
but even they are tangent and never stay
Wonderment and questing are all that are permanent
they are the guides which lead us on our way

There is no top or bottom, every point is exactly the same
No movement can escape this confining reality frame

Associations and relations together with us are one
Separation from observation simply cannot be done

I must watch the horrors helpless to change a thing
and sit idly through the storms that I know the future will bring

People will become more of a common mind
but it will be one that demands conformity

Many think but do not know for knowing is only faith and pride
Knowledge is the tombstone where living reasoning has died

It once had life to those it served because it was part of theirs

If I had to live again through it all I doubt I would change a thing
for pleasure made me contented but the sorrow made me think

"Question not," they say to me. "Question not and you'll be happy."
"Question all," I say to them. "Question all or be condemned."

Over and under, above is below. Neither I am, neither I know.
Yet and then, both are now. Never was I, only how.

Truths unseen are only real once understood by those who feel

pulling us toward the center from which the rest has grown,
grown out and up above and beyond whatever it alone could dream

Down beneath the deep blue sea and up above the highest tree
there are sights which I'll never see yet I will know them and they me

You've heard it all before and you'll see it all again
Even the new is familiar back from who knows when... its repetition.