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Dustin Dean Jun 2018
The tender girl had qualms with none
Detatched, there was nothing for the son
Forced to backtrack whilist rolling downhill
Flashing images remain
Of that private, idealistic mill
So I called her name
In the Nether Realm, she screamed
Yes, she is a hard one to please
Especially when she sees
One going through the motions
Rotations into false vocations

So tell me
What was your question again?
one of a bunch of poems i found from years ago
Rayma Apr 2018
Sometimes I am embarrassed that I fell for you
So quickly,
Through cryptic tongues and
Limited interactions.

I fell for you the way ketchup
Falls from the bottle.
I beat it until it fell out of me
And through my tears I realized
That every time I called myself a fool
An idiot
A cliché,
I was right.

Because I fell for the person I wanted you to be,
The pictures I painted in my head.
It was never about you,
It was always about me.
And letting go was the sweetest taste of freedom
I ever let myself indulge in.
Because being free from loving you
Meant being free from hating myself.
Dustin Dean Apr 2018
Holy vortex
Which rests under our knees
Bring us closer
To the final disease
In which we realize
Life is nothing
But a sweet, sad dream
Quantum physics says electrons are lazy.
(They have no position, momentum, or spin
when there’s no-one looking in on them).
Take a second to catch your breath,
for that literally means:
the world is a weird TV show,
its content new each time it’s viewed.

Who knows the morning grass’s real face
when all we see is reflected light
from a giant ball of gas in time and space?
And to make matters worse,
thanks to Darwinian fruits
springing from evolutionary roots,
our hungry eyes, in their perpetual search
for food and *** and shelter,
heavily condition the content of perception:
while a mere 25 percent of snakes have venom,
if you want to stay away from heaven,
it’s better to believe there’s poison in every species
just in case you tumble on one in the jungle…

If there is no Earth beyond
our seeing, smelling, and telling of it,
maybe that bonkers Bishop Berkley
was barking the right tune:
if there are no “public objects”
in some “preexisting space”
then I object to the appellation of
the “public bench” in the park,
a useful fiction like Noah’s Ark,
in the utilitarian utopia
of daily linguistic *******.

Of course, if the idealists are right,
then this explains why aches and pains
are transformed by our mere attention to them!
Meditation would thus be so more
than the chore of intellectual *******
and don’t get me started on the meaning of hallucination…
A kind of semi-poetical regurgitation of the many ideas going through my head about various schools of philosophy, notably the convergence between ancient Eastern and Western idealism, Darwinism, cognitive science, and quantum physics...
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