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 Oct 2017
Mateuš Conrad
from the videos i watched online -
i can truly attest one thing
and one thing alone:
    ars dialecticis est mort -
  i.e. the art of debate is dead;
nietzsche was wrong
in slandering dialectics -
the most civilised societies
allow dialectics -
  there's no point defending
a "freedom of speech"
when there's no discussion to be had.
street preachers excused -
       what's the point of free
speech when there's no
      "freedom" regarding discussion?
there is no art of poetry,
the only supremacy of art is
the art of discussion -
           but since this "art"
is nowhere in the framework of
a revival, why bother?
what's the freedom of talk,
when all it surmounts to is a
blatancy of a placard?!
              dialectics is dead,
it died with socrates -
       what we're receiving is
an echo-chamber of monologue,
point being:
    i don't even know what
the mongolians are trying to
keep up with...
            and when did
cis- become sis-?
              given the examples,
we are shy of the 26 "unique"
encodings of said speech...
                    never did a kettle
breed a cat...
                        we're done debating,
there's no debating,
  there never was a debate to begin
with...
              we're not going
toi debate, because we are so
entrapped in an ultra-individualistic
crap (yes, i will throw custard
at you) -
         what orwell deemed
cogito duplex (double think)
   has morphed into
an uprising of revisionism:
      coetus cogito (group think) -
how did you expect people to
cling on to the bleaching process
of clinging to pronouns,
when these are being usurped?!
         the art of discussion is dead!
dead! dead! dead!
                  with your nag hammadi
christ 2nd resurrection?!
            iconoclasm gave birth
to the death of dialectics -
       we no longer have effective
measures to study a dialogue -
   we only have examples of
a mistrust in monogamy,
and monologue -
                          i see no future
for the art of dialogue -
                  which is why this lost
art strengthens the position
of the ultra monologist: god.
                      we're not having
a discussion, 1 year to 10 years from
now...
         prior to writing, history must
have been written akin
to a phraseology of claustrophobia -
constrictive -
   suffocating -
                 we wrote to gain
intimacy with thought:
instead we gained the intricacy of
intimidation...
                   whether that be by
thought alone, or otherwise...
      prior to writing history
        history was the lessened &
continually lessing observation
deemed worth "observation",
but of course we exfoliated in our
"demands"...
                 besides the point:
the art of discussion is lost -
  since we have established our worth:
to be none other, than,
  a desire for fictitious tales that lead
to no other discovery, other than
a discovery of a cul de sac.
                 no morning with no
cockerel to croak its adhan -
   i'd revive in the anti-pentagram:
an adhan at morn,
              and an adhan as sunset...
  whatever freedom you give -
shame the freedom of speech
  never allowed the revival of dialectics -
but what can expect,
   given that this freedom arose
from a language that abides by no
diacritical desires -
     where no eye to tongue to breath
speak of diacritical markings be said -
hardly a surprise that
  the art of debate be revived...
          seems easier to club a person
dead, than to squire with his
saber i a duel...
       shame, to be honest...
               the lost art of debate,
which makes all subsequent "debates"
on the internet, a superfluous act of
guilty-pleasure procrastination.
 Oct 2017
K Balachandran
O! mighty elements of nature,
each standing out,yet interwoven,
in your orchestration, you include  each human,
give rise to a nebulous magic we know as mind,
created for the universe,in a process,mysterious
hoping each would strive for peace in cosmos.

But the consciousness of nature,
one could guess,now feels
increasingly helpless, terrified too on what happens,
reeling in pains of various kind,inflicted upon her.
This as a result of the relentless attack on her
by the unkind mankind,driven by avarice
in a mad spree to reduce flora and fauna in to dust,
that too at an earliest date possible!

Forgive me now, I am a penitent,
shocked by the vision of what awaits
I plant saplings of trees, repenting
with the promise that these tiny greens
will grow to mighty trees once,compensate,
contribute to the well being of all the worlds
 Oct 2017
K Balachandran
To each passionately
embracing wave,
the sea reveals her heart's secret.
The sonorous chant of each wave,
subliminally absorb the whole truth,
which doesn't get in to  the net
of any word, however dexterous!

Grasp the essence of the profound silence within,
what's in the ocean depth and this are one and the same!
Look no further than yourself,
be your own lamp
your own refuge.

The rain washed sky found a mirror in his eyes.

Yet for some time as the end neared
he was hearing an echo
from the deep well of nirvana
urging his weary feet toward a home
his aeons ago.

The frail bones feeling the pull
drove his weary feet through rains
to be on that land one last time.

Look no further
for howsoever long is the journey
must come to an end at home.

That night as he lay under the śāl tree
they strained to hear him whisper

All composite things decay,
strive diligently.
Gautama Buddha
 Oct 2017
K Balachandran
At sight, just this one bloom,
that spectacularly spreads,
it's warm purple petals wide
above us, like a big benevolent lotus,
causing  the magic of dawn and dusk,
day after day,indefatigably!
Galloping fast , then leading
to a day,turning it different
for each, an astonishing feat!
Closes at night, claiming  back
all radiance, he brought along,
in between  deftly he addresses
trillions of neurons at work  of every kind
all alone; simply phenomenal!

Isn't it an incredible everyday miracle?

But do we ever thank the wonder bloom
except the ancient sages who structured
a mantra* to praise his astonishing gifts.
Prime source of light for the humans, this!
a wonder one of a kind, he sure is,
well, till the day 'God decides
to play dice', yet again!
*Surya Gayatri--Hymns in salutation of the sun that stimulating brains and keeping the world alive, included  in the ancient Indian texts Vedas  called Surya Gayathri, Gayathri is the poetic meter in which hymn are structured.
 Sep 2017
leona chaput
Jesus, Jesus above all
You are my God
Savior of my soul
God of all mercy
Caring and glory
Jesus, Jesus above all
I worship you
 Sep 2017
Ian Lewis Copestick
Today's my birthday and I think
That tonight I deserve a drink
Me, the Mrs,a couple of bottles of wine
I'm 45 and I am feeling fine

We've got a couple of friends  come to visit
The drinks go around, the stories go with it
A happy time is had by all
As the night outside it falls

It feels good to be 45
****, I'm glad just to be alive
Nightclubs are no longer my thing
Just friends sitting around, having a drink

But to be honest now, I wish they'd go
So me and my wife could be alone
My hospitality only goes so far
Now I'm ready to throw them into their car
 Sep 2017
K Balachandran
Embedded in ancient myths, each moment
of life one lives is out and out mysterious .
In the firmament at night, every star
that is winking at you is a memory
refracted to interstellar depths by
laden layers of light years.

Swimming in this lake of kaleidoscopic dreams
I encounter fish with every countenance,
imaginable; wishes all, from lives past, far and near,
some even aberrations from future

Sometimes during such
underwater explorations,
I see myself flying above
numerous planets,
dressed in transparent
dark nights or moonbeams
spun from wishful dreams.

In one of those trips
to the present,defying laws,
I see you, sitting there
frozen in time,
like a work chiseled in  alabaster
all smiles,among your deer friends
all lovely does!

In a flash, magic carpet of time flies back
I remember you, our encounter unforgettable!
The wily tiger, in the guise of a lover, you
were getting closer to the deer, pure at heart
so naive to the guiles of the forest.

As you were about to spring at her
Your eyes, met her steady tranquil gaze,
that spoke of love and compassion, infinite.
Remember,you froze, as if by a spell,
struck by the force of  nonviolence.
You are still there, even after avalanches
of million dense memories,
a tiger, all killer instincts frozen,
still trusted among the deer, your dear ones.
Now I can see your eyes zooming around
for the mystery to be revealed;
meeting that ancient deer again, for final resolution.
 Sep 2017
K Balachandran
"I am freedom itself" hummed aloud,
the wind that passes agitating tree tops,
air am I, the giver of life,pumping energy"
"I am with you" I echoed his song sans words
"Though I won't hazard a guess where do we go"
"Don't you bother, our circumnavigation is yet another
of the stories, in the compendium,universe  does cherish.
We belong to all, as movement that never ceases"

"Get in to my vehicle, the heat will look after the rest,
the transporter,that makes everything light,
by burning down, I am the transformer too"
"I am the hunger you possess" I replied
"I eat and digest, create growth, make things move,
in my ***** is the hunger to procreate,progress.
Once the hunger is satiated, I get back
slithering in to the burrow, like a serpent
Anger I become when I decide to destruct,
it's from the ashes of the old,the new is constructed!

"From the salt in me,everything living sprout"
earth, the begining and end of everything
in customary silence,implied, I was overwhelmed.
she is the nurturing mother of every seed with the
potential to life, wants to open eyes to the sun
then grow roots deep to entrench, stand *****,
"I am one with you mother earth, from you
sprung my body, that seeks light, rest at night"

Sky was full of birds,regaling in every presence
in it's fold, sky beams"I am a vessel fathomless,
come in to my space open,dance your way to bliss,
and seek wistful dreams written by interstellar light"
"I am filled by you where there is an absence of other
my mind limitless is in you exist, I am you in spirit,
when I withdraw from all,I am all in you, nothing left"

Water did speak both to my silence and eloquence,
water is beyond the markers of darkness and light,
From earth to dust, dissolving to be water and flow
from one kind of existence to other, till the limits of cosmos.
 Sep 2017
Melissa S
If someone pulled me from the inside out
Would they still like what they see?
Such things I hide behind
Are not always with intent to deceive
Do I have an intriguing mind?
Or better yet...
Do I have a beautiful heart?
Shouldn't these be the most important parts
I wear masks to disguise the pain
Underneath a river of lies fall down like rain
Should this river of lies drown me?
Or does it just make me grow
a thicker shell for all to see
Inspired by a poem by patty m
poem https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2093422/i/
Also inspired by comments from the Traveling man himself
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