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Deep Mar 30
30-03-2020   23:28

Has anyone had an iota of an inkling wishing Happy New Year
That this year will not bring happiness but its opposite.

DESCARTES had commented that man is the
"The master and proprietor of nature,”
Now when nature is purging and affirming its omnipotence,
Would Descartes locked in his home following social distancing
stand by his comment?

It was day three, the grapevines growing like wildfire and
had in its content, maybe the lockdown days could extend.
Who knows? But at these catastrophic situations, one wants the comfort of one's family but being indecisive I repent heavily for
my mistake of not going back home in time.

Today while writing my assignment (Height of optimism)
I stumbled on the
definition of TRUTH which Nietzsche had given--

"Truths are illusions about which one has forgotten that they are illusion."

And this is further extended by FOUCAULT,

"No such thing as truth exists, we consider Truth which those in power want us to perceive as truth. Truth is fabricated like the clothes we wear and discarded when shabby."

Now again, MARX gives another theory ALIENATION--

In it we find us estranged from the important events and decisions that affect our lives. Those who made decisions for us can fabricate any narrative because we don't have any means to find what happened behind the closed doors, we are left nothing but to accept it.

Can we fit "Truth and Alienation" in our world?
The mind is like a street dog wandering aimlessly and barking on the moving shadows. Can shadow exist without a body?

In the moments of this crisis, I still see the glimpse of politics
For some, it is an advantage
For some, a nightmare
Few are making profits
Few giving up everything to help others

Whatever it is, the observation of King of Brobdingnag on the human race in the GULLIVER'S TRAVELS is sempiternal--

"I cannot but conclude that the Bulk of your Natives, to be the most pernicious Race of little odious Vermin that Nature ever suffered to crawl upon the surface of the Earth.”

Good Night!
TJ Radcliffe Jan 24
You are reading "If On a Winter's Day a Traveller",
perhaps online, or on your phone,
during your commute. The train, the bus,
the streetcar is quite crowded,
jostling and rattling around
as you get your head into the poem.

What lies ahead? The curve of road or track
leads on to darkness, mystery, confused
deep tunnels, full of dusty lights,
or intersections where the traffic snarls
into a knot. There's no way out
but forward, so you go,
in time.

The screen is dark, you've been distracted,
and now the poem is done.
Riff on Calvino's "If On a Winter's Night a Traveller", a novel that describes the experience of reading it.
Deep May 2019
The 'gyre' hints arrival-
Twenty centuries making room
For a new epoch,
I’m modern bird now,
I may sound haphazard, troublesome and brooding
unimportant topic for hours,
It's up to you to lend ear or not;

I was winged rooster confined to land only,
Now I’ve become 'hawk', with knowledge of flight
perhaps power too,
Seeing the world from far above
Envisioned me a seer sight;
I see the world functioning; the lowliest on top,
the best in daze, and mediocre relishing mediocrity,
One or two good men wasting
life in poetry; Of which none cares.
Oblivious armed men guards the periphery;
At centre white termites gnaws the Door.

At this height, all seems different,
I can’t relate with my earlier self;
My knowledge seems nothing but
a frail sound in vacuum.
When I became 'conscious'-
My dreams stopped being dreams—
My thoughts were invaded daily—
Life evolved in million years—
'God is dead', universe all naked.
We’re the supreme, the Satan both;
Busy in triumphing Nature.
Converging all— blazed my beliefs.

We’ve progressed too much, portends
the trembling of earth
And smoke eclipsing the sun.
'Death I breathe',
War looms again,
Life is traded in forfeited currency.

I see the world functioning,
I know one or two tricks too to cheat,
To assault, to ****, to loot.
I can foresee the end—
Its good to die starving then
To fly in proximity of land.
gyre; comes from WB Yeats,
Hawk; Ted Hughes (Hawk Roosting)
Freud's term - Conscious, Nietzsche's quote 'God is dead'
Miguel Diaz May 2016
I hide in the dark
Where I shed light on the walls,
The showman performs behind me and I only see a silhouette
I'm fighting with shadows.
Shadow boxing with shadow puppets,
The candle that light that fire will fall and the puppetry will disappear.
My hands still tied to the chair.
There once was a man named Beowulf
Who was fiercer than a demon or werewolf
Except that he had a flaw
A dragon made him mortally sore
This prologue is prophetic
To the ending of this epic
So I’ll tell you more


Beowulf made his mind up at twenty-three
He would race his friend to swim across the sea
But fighting many sea monsters is quite trial
Beowulf only caught up in the final mile


Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf
His equal would be hard to find
Though Breca nearly beat him
He managed to defeat him
But he would make up his mind


Beowulf made his mind up in his head
He would battle Grendel until one was dead
But even though his strength could cause a lot of harm
Beowulf only severed Grendel’s left arm



Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf
His equal would be hard to find
Though Grendel he had saddened
Beowulf wasn’t gladdened
And he would make up his mind


Beowulf made his mind up then and there
He’d **** Grendel’s mother in her watery lair
Although the angry tarn-hag had put up a fight
Both monsters were beheaded that very night


Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf
His equal would be hard to find
He took a child and mother
Like Cain had killed his brother
But he had made up his mind



Beowulf made his mind up when he was old
To slay a raging dragon of whom he’d been told
But Beowulf couldn’t deal with the dragon’s fire
And he was later burned atop a funeral pyre


Poor Beowulf, fierce as a werewolf
His equal would be hard to find
He once was a great hero
And now his worth is zero
But he would make up his mind
A parody song/poem I wrote a couple of years ago when studying the Beowulf epic.

— The End —