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Matt Oct 14
Temptation unravels like a flower abdicating her bulb
For to fair maidens, my life I’ve sold
Hold me and dawn your lips upon mine
And let you and me sail through Paris, down the river of her Seine

Warmth I know not, yet nathless I seek Apollo’s chariot mare
And to hunt ‘til dusk at us she stares
Lay here under the veil of twilight
Under the twilight, ‘til the sun lays forth her light, nay any brightness

Follow me down the Rhine, right, follow not to the river of Styx
Rise with me amongst Alps, like Frederick
When I call, will you find us a niche?
Or tell me Atlas has fell, and your thoughts have shattered to pieces?

Endeavor to find my ailing pen and fly to me on winged shoes
I juggle your court, the fastest fool
Woman, I thought you my medicine
But the turmoil you pave, leaves me a reluctant libertine

Here am I, waging a war wherein I will dutifully fail
But for thee, Cupid’s arrow I’d impale
Then in my failure I find discord
Oh how my war ails her, bind me in brass under the lunar cold

How could you forgive me? Wearied, hands I forged flames and scarred your heart
And left you hideously distraught
Should you, I’d build you a throne d’or
And father for us four children, each as innocent as a fleur

Cast me out like the dawn, for in my heart, the wind blows full of sand
Deep in there, your Trojan horse still stands
Down in the earth you will find my soul
You brought your wars-men to lay waste what could have been wonderful

Proud, are you?, for waving the air under my wings upon which I
Climbed to the Sun, in euphoric high
Now to the maze where I still devise
To face your wrath and wrestle your beasts to ensure our love survives

Tis a hopeless cause, I walk like the air on a stale summer day
And I’m dreaming of your sharp green eyes
And I remember your skin like silk
Woven by the Fates; “us,” I thought we were to be bred of the same ilk

Resign to Versailles and sit beneath the Sun King, his brightly “or”
Run to the valley, you did before
And in there find your poisoned lily
Your fallen stars unveil your sympathies; marked by your fleur-de-lis

Stand like a pillar of salt, lick your wounds, and try to quench your thirst
You were born with two snakes in your fists
And you fend off all men; lonesome blues
You deny yourself passion and love, but dress as if he seeks you

I drowned myself beneath a circle of stars, searching for answers
And came upon a ballet dancer
I asked her, “don’t dance in paraphrase”
“Let me see you at réveille, and peer on your inward gaze.”

Show yourself to me, self proclaimed Queen of many-a-mans envy
Your masquerade ***** hide your beauty
You speak endless lies, but show not a man
When you stay behind your dramatic masks, you’ll never know friends again

Throw out your doctrines that bind your immeasurable concerns
Turn off the things you think you have learned
And decide with your mind and your heart
Seek Saturn to announce your mysteries, now then, think like Descartes
Marco Rigau Oct 14
When all is lost and all is dreary,
When fate is gone and you must go on,
When you go on without a light,
When you fight through the worst of night,
Du bist der übermensch.
When you beat the hopelessness and decay,
Du bist der übermensch.
When you fight a world meaningless,
Du bist der übermensch.
When you create meaning from naught,
Du bist der übermensch
The poem is based on Nietzsche's idea of "the übermensch", literally the "over-man" or "above-man", thus the repeated phrase means "You are the over-man", but "übermensch" can't really be translated. It's the idea of the person who finds his own meaning in a godless world. Nietzsche belived that the Enlightenment "killed", or rather disproved, God, making there be no objective morality and meaning.
Kagey Sage Jul 10
Done with thinking because that's for god to do
I am just this appendage of a greater consciousness

Ahab is blameless
in his small existence
Don't quote me
quote Herman and Freddy Nietzsche
They and their hermits
coming down from the mountains
to declare they ought to have
loved their fate all along

Amor fati
Why couldn't we have been stuck in the herd all along
guys who get love and happiness effortless
no need to spend their life in anguish
searching through tomes
found in tombs for eons and eons
enhancing their social aloofness
and their unremembered trauma
'till those sad souls give those pansies confidence
to leave an exegesis of their own

Too smart kid
that decried Christ and
the shadows of a god all around
only to find the search for truth was hopeless
Find a way to dumbly enjoy life again
and you only say again cause
that's all we can control
our memories
and we too often forget
our thought habits
the pre-neolithic mind tricks
on ourselves

Too many MLMs profiting off false mindfulness
missing the point beyond exercise
and short stress relief

Change your thought patterns to love your destiny
That's the best we have
to pretend to have control in this ̶h̶e̶l̶l̶ hole
Harley Hucof Apr 6
The pen of the past write the future in the present
People pretend and never learn their lessons.

And they fight their ego, but it always prevails
God's existence doesn't make sense,
Life's not fair
I guess Nietzsche was right ,
God is dead.

The pen of the past write the future in the present
What i am trying to say is that your choices will haunt you forever
And make you lose control and forget that you are blessed
Aliens are the new religion and GOD is dead.

As i declare it
I write it and turn to sleep
If GOD is dead, he is living in my head
I say my prayer and fade away
In the dreamworld where the ego always prevails .

Words Of Harfouchism.
Deep Mar 22
'Eternal Return'? Why?
If things will keep recurring why is so much exertion?
Would I share a gleeful laugh and cry a passionate cry
Knowing  the same happiness and sorrows will recur
again and again?
It took years to reach a summit, toiling and crawling,
A slight imbalance, and again we are hurled to the beginning.
Is, Sisyphus, only a mythical figure? If yes,
Then, why I see him in me?

Take a handful of men of bygone days, and contrast with
Our time, drop the embellishments of each century,
And see the patterns that emerge, ask them, what were the new ways
That helped to curb pain, answer;
"Slowly the pain is eased but increased the suffering."
Are pain and suffering different?

When was the last time you loved someone?
Do you remember the days after they were gone? Yes?
Then, why are you in love again?
And most importantly, whom are you in love with?
The person or the suffering they bring?

If Everything recurs 'ad infinitum',
Then can we avert the things already occurred
In past, from occurring again?
Or we have lost the aptitude for resemblances?
Invention demands an offering of natural ability.
Have we gained half of we lost?
What is the tipping point for this offering and trade?

It's good I do not have to worry much,
For me, the world ends the day I die.
Theory of ETERNAL RETURN promoted by Nietzsche that says things will keep recurring again and again.
Arkapravo Aug 2019
I read his books, to cry at night,
If God is dead then show me the light,
Where is the man on the cross,  where is the shining knight ?
... that veiled specter and the streak of light ?
Is nihilism a noose too tight ?
Are we living though our final rites ?
Is this the truth or a noise just too white.

Help me God, but alas he is dead,
We killed him and bathed him blood red,
New century, and many still go unfed,
We still wage wars, are we lacking in staid ?
Amor fati ! but I remain afraid,
Has our senses met with a touch of fade ?
A distant thunder... a storm, a hale, a glade !

Gold, Oil and Drugs - GOD to spell,
... rich to richer, poor to poorer - does it ring a bell ?
Widows cry and mums wail,
Father dies and sons follow in a war to fail,
Cruise and thomahawk don't even tell half the tale,
Our inner selves are shriveled and pale,
Where is our aura ? conscience smells stale.

Markets tumble and the poor man whines,
Leaders make speech, claim things are ''just fine'',
Elephants or donkeys, red or blue - jaded bottle, old wine,
Job dwindle, banks swindle - be it wall street or the south of Tyne,
Or cities on the banks of Rhein,
Long queues, angry mob and a shout of "you swine"
... are we cowards lacking in spine ?

If recurrence is the universes' game,
Are we zombies, or just too lame,
So much we do, in an effort to maim,
What we seek is money, power and fame,
Stare into the mirror, isn't our soul the same ?
... and we all have is an ego to tame,
Love and compassion, that is all to our name.

Good and bad, with evil on right hand,
... overflowing adrenal glands,
Our moral landscape seems bland,
Driven by media which is slave to the rich brand,
It is time we take a stand,
Be the Zarathustra, not make castles in the sand,
... else our children will not find a planet too grande!

Is it the last leg for our kind,
... and smart machines are our next find,
Cometh the superman with wires fitted to his mind,
Man was an error, he is not just deaf, but also blind,
As he lacks in sight be it the fore or the hind,
There is not much to remind,
... his death is dated and signed.
Written in the autumn of 2017. The poem expresses my awe and admiration of Fredrich Nietzsche and his philosophy.
Nigdaw Jun 2019
I push the revolving glass door
Shuffling almost reverently with it's turn
A pilgrim to the written word, I am entering
The church of human consciousness.
The greatest minds sit here with some
That came in through the back door of
Specialist interest or just plain bizarre.

Alphabetical order belies the years that separate
These authors, some rubbing shoulders with giants
Who have barely been alive long enough to tell
Of real experience, then there are those who have
Stood the test of time, decorating bookshelves
In homes that have never read them, they just
Fulfil their reputation as if by osmosis bringing
An intellectual vibe to the coffee table and
Into the very fabric of the space occupied.

They are all here hiding behind their spines
Luring you with interesting fonts, bright colours
Like jpegs on a contact sheet waiting judgement,
Wanting be taken down and become your big picture
"We have made it, our voices have been heard,
All it takes is imagination to release us within the mind
Your images our words, we can make a movie together."

But I have been spotted, "Whatcha looking at punk
Think you've got what it takes to sit with the likes of us,
Don't go reading me and plagiarizing my well worn
Extensively researched mumbo jumbo clap trap,
So you can call me one of your influences on your CV,
Using my name to make you seem intellectual
Look around, how many do you think didn't make it."

I have gazed too long into the abyss and the abyss
Has gazed back into me, how can I claim to have
Any more to say than the greatest minds on earth
And yet, with pure heart my trembling hand hovers
Over the letters of my qwerty keyboard, pressing
The shift key as if in defiance, identical words,
Just not necessarily with the same meaning.
Nietzsche's quote 'If you gaze too long into the abyss, the abyss gazes back at you.'
The answer:
If we are the Ubermensch, the person who can act justly with intuition alone, then the abyss sets us free!
Justus May 2019
I don't care much for titles or trophies
I've never been one to reminisce over
past accomplishments
I only want to destroy the spirit of
the man before me
I will only be satisfied with victory
when I feel his grit wither away
When his sense of self is lost
I will have found myself again
Nietzsche is smiling at me from his cave
People tell me that I need therapy; I remind them that they are the superfluous.
adi Apr 2019
One brain, one mouth, one being - nothing more!
I’ve killed my selves so many times
My own womb has suffered crimes,
To be a poet have I tried
But my ink has gotten dry.
Rebirthed myself as man - for the poems, for the words, nothing more
Everything missed Dionysus like never before!

A different life among you have I led!
Deprived myself of all life gives
In dark, alone and cold I wept.
Destitute and desperate now,
My heart freezing on a lonely bough.
The bulb above my brow is hanging by a single thread and when
It falls and breaks to pieces they will know that I am dead.

Come sleep - or come death,
I can see no difference.
Blind me at least so I can mock the Sun!

With shut eyes they think I am illiterate,
Primordial is the essence and I am her son.

They want me to dance at the feet of chance!
Embrace chaos in my attic,
Die a young and worthy addict.
Forced to live in Hölderlin’s tower
As nothing more than a wilting flower.
My words trembled but were barren, devoid of romance,
So my poetry never made anyone dance.

I clipped my wings so I can drink with sailors,
Walk amongst them on my frail feet,
To be man is all I ever wanted,
Chugged the nectar of life which made me sick.
Oh, men! How fragile you are!
Slowly poisoned by the time you try to escape
‘Meaningless is existence’ you say as you create!

Come sleep - or come death, 
I can see no difference. 

Poverty through poetry, the most human way to go,
Come sleep - or come death,
Let me go.

He wanted to be human - the humanest of them all - a poet!
He wanted to put pain on paper - even make it rhyme
He wanted to be the one to hear the screams of time.
And as the light faded and the bulb broke,
Darkness came wearing mistress clothes.
‘Oh, men! How strange you really are!’ - he yelled.
‘Dionysus! What a man you have become!’ - she said.
Then he disappeared swearing to never return,
Thinking that poetry is for those who like to burn.
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