once the human struggle, and great words said, and great battles convened over trivial things - Helen laughed at a thousand ships, modern Helen launched a thousand alimony battles in the court and other divorce disputes, in those times when the body was in constant exertion great stories emerged, Hercules the brawl but not the brains, ended up a murderer of his own children; indeed when it was as it was, and not now as it is now, old sages threw at man all forms of flattery with words and sayings - but since now man can overpower certain paths of nature, he boasts, and if given but a little social status, a psychiatrist like Freud, a professor of philosophy like Bertrand Russell, give these men but a scrap of social status, educate them, give them a moment of attention and care and concern, unlike the constant pulverisation of pop stars, give them but a little, and they'll say the most demeaning things about their fellow men, because man has really travelled far, they but utter objective wisdom, atheistic wisdom, the "cool bits" on the rational social strata - but having categorised himself as a **** sapiens, man managed very little to justify it, some grand scientific categorisation of man has not changed his primeval ontology - even if adorning well tailored suits, top hats or bowler hats, cravats, perfumes or anything as such; so indeed, give such shadowy men a little social status, and they say the most obnoxious things imaginable, demeaning and disheartening, because they say: 'well, there's so many of us, we've successfully populated the world, conquered elephants and rhinos and tigers and lions and sharks, we can boast... but at the same time dehumanise our fellow forms, because we believe that the neanderthals are still roaming among us!' well, i do sort of believe that believing in the existence of an imaginary omni- etc. being does clog of the imagination a little bit, but such a belief system is fine by me, the imagination can be clogged up by such a being, but as long as the heart is endearing, i don't really mind.*

i never understood writing
a poem around a maxim
from philosophy, i guess
there's no point as such to gain
something from it, without
realising something counter
to it (in the least),
i'm more or a person that would
rather cite a book he's read
than take out the bare essentials,
say: a hammer without the nails,
each book a coffin -
man in the eternal venture kindred
of fire rather than paper,
the poem an unscratched match,
the poem a lump of cool coal,
a dynamite fuse not lit -
and since fire wrote such poems,
fire, an animation of skeletal
and muscular machinery -
and laid to rest, only another
of same constitution can only
ignite words that are nothing
but: an unscratched match,
a lump of cool coal, a dynamite
fuse not yet lit - only a reader;
i never understood writing around
and about someone else's maxim,
well i have, but that utterance was
my own.