#philosopher
Diogenez, put the chicken down
we all know what you wanted
and it was to be like Chrysippus
but you couldn't get over your
own ****
Dec 3, 2025
Dec 3, 2025 at 7:20 AM UTC
As far as words go, or the spoken word,
act it on it.
Be better, because, sooner or
later. Develop an interest in virtue.
Practice morality. Sooner rather than later,
you’ll become drunkenly amongst saints.
Rose-white mind blooming seeing all
glory while being
stunned by awe, bear-witness at
angels singing. Choir of beauty.
Dec 2, 2025
Dec 2, 2025 at 10:29 PM UTC
The poet is an architect
he constructs sentences.
The poet is a cook
he mixes words.
The poet is a philosopher
he reflects on what he writes.
The poet is a student
he learns words.
But above all.
The poet has no definition
he defines himself.
Aug 11, 2025
Aug 11, 2025 at 10:55 AM UTC
The Stoic Philosopher,
Which is the human mind that studies human life itself,
Which is a noble mind itself,
Which seeks the virtues of Courage, Justice, Temperance and Wisdom.
The Stoic Philosopher who is seeking with noble mind the inner peace and the inner citadel itself.
This to find a safe harbor from life's storms at sea.
The Stoic Philosopher knows, you can only ever control your own actions, deeds, own words and thoughts themselves.
Plus knows not to let others upset them too easy in everyday life itself.
So The Stoic Philosopher is the Noble Minded indeed.
Apr 8, 2025
Apr 8, 2025 at 10:48 AM UTC
In a universe where nothing could be everything
and everything could be nothing
I wake up blinded by the sun and my weak eyes struggle to conform
but her power desires me
In a universe where silence can ring ears
and actual sirens can calm them
My engine rustles with promise as I drive down the unpaved road
I am cement, and spill out of my windows into the potholes as I pass
Shadows of trees fold over behind me as outlines of roofs emerge
one day I’ll drive and count them all
In a universe where we worship time
but it repays by pilfering our youth
I make out silhouettes through the strands of my ***** hair
Your tie taunts me, perched confidently on the base of your neck
My fears in the flesh, enveloped in dark eyes and strong posture
one day I’ll face him eye to eye
In a universe where we long for love
but company deludes us
I eat dinner alone at a table for six
and stare longingly through one of my three big windows
My mom probably called but my phone’s been on silent
one day I’ll get free time and call her back
In a universe where nothing could be everything
and everything could be nothing
My pillow steals my thoughts for the closing hours of the night
and I ponder on how much of me it’ll return when I wake up in the morning
Solipsism
(10.16.2020)
—adrianatamara
Dec 24, 2020
Dec 24, 2020 at 10:07 AM UTC
Life is the name of which flying bird
not necessary to know
thinking is crime
pause is unknown
wherever whoever wants to stop the moment
with the cycle of mutual gossip,
with the seductive artwork of t.v.
with the magic of sports
with the dream ‘s illusion work
Deterioration drivablition,
Sobbing of this golden cycle happeneth;
by coming of earthquake,
moving away of dear one ,
breaking of sweet dreams,
with the onset of untimely illness,
with the increasing of confliction
decreasing of ultimate peace
Now person feels stagnant blame for innocent luck
Becomes a philosopher in his own life
Again to seize a new moment..
Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 3:50 AM UTC
As white as the snow that is yet to come
And as delicate as a fallen autumn leaf
A Heron patiently waits like a philosopher lost in thought
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 9:23 AM UTC
They attacked her in mid exploration
Cutting away her golden thoughts
As they cut away her flesh, destroying
A mind that they couldn’t destroy in
Debate, a sparkling old woman
Whose thoughts were spun from steel.
The screaming mob desecrated her tiny form
Dragging it into the dust, through the *******
And **** Tearing off her clothes
The Parabalani exposed her to celestial winds crossing
The arora, rubbing
Spoilt Alexandrian soil into her unexplored ******
She did not die as a philosopher, calculating and
Learning, but, torn apart, the old woman
Screamed out for her father,
Terrified, in sacrificial pain so much worse
Than beheadings and crucifixion. Her modesty,
Kept for 60 years, mutilated by a 1000 killers in a single
Minute.
Her head bounced in the forum,
Her arms thrown to the 4 corners,
Her soul stamped into the gutter,
As the new religion cried out for tolerance.
In a morning thinking became forbidden
Books burnt, laughs ignored and fires built for heretics.
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 6:13 PM UTC
A dandy gentleman contemplates the human condition.
He sits alone in a french coffee shop,
poetry and philisophy his primary mission.
An awkward mind and deep pocketed heart, he bites eagerly into a freshly baked maple syrup ****
His mustache is striking, as though it has a story of its own
He wears a blue velvet coat filled with notes,
not to mention a lifes work of observations and quotes.
He checks his pocket watch from time to time
As he gathers his thoughts to write the next line.
A hint of tobacco can picked up from his vintage clothing
He's a complicated fellow, enigmatic but soothing.
His top hat well established sits on top of his head
His shoes finley polished black with stripes of red.
A long worn out coat still encapsulates his grace
He has a slight intensity reavaled in his face
For this mans work will never be done
For madness is in his nature, to him this is fun.
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 5:31 AM UTC
*"Being an introvert in an extroverted
world can absolutely be difficult."
Came across this on some blog.
Think it's more complex to be a mediocre, an extro-intro or an intro-extro...
you can't go all out... you won't remain all in...
you're doomed to be in the twixt. Yet the middle is dangerous...
The middle of the Ocean is the deepest, the middle
of the jungle is the riskiest... the middle of the garden
of Eden doomed an entire race...
for its existence... no driver would drive freely in the middle lane,
most run to the climbing lane soon as they see it.
Some say the Earth is trapped between Heaven and Hell...
maybe we're a compound of Paradisal elements and
the rumbles of the Hades...
the pawns in the Chess between God and Satan, the Jobs in the bible of now...
I'm a Junk of all trades & I'm afraid being in between trades makes me a master of non...
I know too much and yet I know nothing... I am an extro-intro...
I go out only until the plank starts to swing the other way...
I go out until I sense the cold and quickly run back to the lukewarm
betwixt for the hot is as fatal to my kind as the cold.
Am not an Author and neither am I a poet... Am a "Poether'' or an "Auoet", Am not philosophical neither am I Theological...am "philological" or "Theolophical".
I'm trapped at the equator... I'm neither an Eskimo nor an "Antactico"...
Not Ugandan nor Kenyan... Tanzania can't claim me
but there's yet to be a concrete East African...
maybe I'm African.
My point is some people think the middle is safe...
but I believe different. it's my opinion if you want to be a piglet be one,
if you want to be a puppy be a puppy for its fatal to be a Pipet or puppet...
both are instruments... even their use is similar.
My tragedy is am in between, am a mediocre, a pother,
an opssimist, a philothopher, a ctranger or say "Ukantan".
I'm just there... Don't be caught in my place...
find a place to belong... no matter how dangerous and risky...
always choose where you lie...always strive hard to find a prowess...
Go past the lines for History remembers those who are unique...
whether for the worst or the best.
Be the last if you can't be the first...*
**Everyone will remember Mabirizi for he knew how to be the last...
And sadly everyone will remember Museveni for he's good at keeping his place.
Who will remember the one in between.
Who will remember Besigye? Who will remember the servant boy that
cautioned Achilles against fighting the Thessalonian?
Who will remember me?**
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 11:42 AM UTC
**Once you know yourself, you know the world
and once you know the world you know yourself**
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC
An Author is as good as his Editor
a poet as good as his emotions
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 6:47 AM UTC
Was I put here to love you in our home?
My instincts tell me no.
My fondest memory won't, I already know,
Be my day as bride walking aisleside.
I am not a creature of clichés.
I don't want a good experience again, if I may,
I want one just as unexpected, as fire meets wind.
I don't want to be your friend.
More so, I want an unexplainable connection which transcends.
I don't want to be a student of school,
I want to be schooled by life.
I want to travel through dimensions,
I've tried before and may try again,
How can it be that I am here to be wife?
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC
The great philosopher
Utters things profound.
Gives the bird her song
The great philosopher
Utters things profound.
Cools the shade
The great philosopher
Utters things profound.
Sweetens ice cream
The great philosopher
Utters things profound.
Gives dogs their dreams
The great philosopher
Utters things profound.
Makes the child dance
The great philosopher
Utters things profound.
Lunch at Wendy's
The great philosopher
Utters things profound.
A friend's eccentricity
The great philosopher
Can utter ordinary things...
Listen to that lecture too
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 1:46 AM UTC
A warrior's spirit
that gives me fight.
A wanderer's soul
keeping me up all night.
A philosopher ponders
inside my mind.
A poet's heart
makes the chaos rhyme.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC
We somehow look
at different perspective
But I tell you
this world
is just a dream
©IGMS
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
“No man ever steps in the same river twice
For it's not the same river
And he's not the same man”
Heraclitus was right
Change does endure
But alas
The water may change but
The river will not cease to be a river
And
A man’s mind may be changed but
Man will not cease being human
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 12:31 PM UTC
A philosopher thinks
A writer expresses
A planner makes plans
A poet feels, conceives and reflects with emotions
To reshape the world using a mortar of love of nature
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
Socrates as well as Plato have nothing on my father.
© Matthew Harlovic
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
How many can bring into being at will
the fire that in the most essential part dwells?
Though the vital principle yearns forever,
it is on occasion mute and still.
In profound wonder,
on days like these,
the total
Self suffers.
So, ye must labor
towards discernment
most deliberate,
and then by breaking thru
the despondent
atmosphere,
can the task of
improvement
be therefore executed,
(if the person is not thereby deterred but determined.)
Thereafter the lowering, threatening aspect of
terrible Doubt is cast off from within,
so as to no longer be suffered.
And when ye do lie
warmed by
a spontaneously
emerged and helpful
attitude,
thence be thy own
witness
to that restraint exercised
over Temper's violence,
and over
hasty Impulse,
troubled Emotion,
and
lustful Desire,
if ye do so choose.
That being stated,
the struggle is then
within
to
contend
with
Virtue.
However,
if at a loss for
answers,
it's less daunting and less haunting
to just ask askance;
for the one who knows
to
question is to seek
and he seeks to ask
by it's translation,
can therefore make
a request hence,
of elderly Experience.
And then ye
must simply
put forth the query
to the
Elder,
who is in the
highest degree
experienced.
So a child of tomorrow
did long ago
pose it in this way,
"How does one find, when
weak, the will to win over Virtue?"
Then the Elder, he sought to tell thee
by matter-of-fact
in this way,
"It is a false belief
that ne'er will the
weak something inspire ,
but 'tis true that the weak will
is something that ne'er inspires."
And with that
he left the poser still
with question,
and in dismay,
for he
never really answered the poser,
which is his way,
in stealth,
to posit with his own question,
which speaks for itself,
"Do not ye think ye must find that out for thy Self?"
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC
Scientists researching nature and man,
sing, Muse Kalliope, about arcane progress
of inventive magicians, wizards, druids,
philosophers, alchemists, and physicists,
bright curious people who study our world
and organize knowledge in holy books
to record wisdom gleaned by supple minds
as they experiment on sacred quest
to discover truth and invent better ways
we perform tasks to rule civilization
that programs actions of each crafting hand.
While Homeros once sang of manic rage
and versatile wiles, Hesiodos of gods,
Valmiki of loyal love, Vyasa of conflict,
Lucretius of atoms, Vergilius of arms,
Ovidius of bodies transforming shapes,
Ferdowsi of wisdom and civilization,
Dante of punishment and search for faith,
Chaucer of lust and fierce desire to live,
Ariosto of chaos, Tasso of order,
Camoens of discovery, Spenser of virtues,
Shakespeare of outrage at horror of death,
and Milton of paradise lost and found,
I, Surazeus, inspired by Muses sing
of philosophy, science, and inventions
when curious men and women observe nature
and seek to comprehend physical laws
that govern vital scheme of evolution
transforming matter of swirling universe
in galaxies, stars, planets, and conscious life.
Why are heroes in ancient tales poets sing
warriors who fight and **** in brutal wars,
biggest, strongest, meanest, and wiliest men
who wield weapons of death, and crown themselves
god-kings, then claim divine right to rule lands?
Ten thousand years men argued and fought wars,
joining groups lead by men who organize
gangs to battle for control over land,
following men with loyal obedience
who comprehend best how rich nature works,
and perceive future possible events
when they analyze situations well
and build strong forts for well-trained warriors
to occupy strategic points on hills
that guard close fresh-water rivers and lakes.
Warriors who founded dynasties of kings
play grand roles of power on martial stage
of history, killing tyrants and thieves,
and decree rules that foster common good
to stabilize smooth social interactions
between groups, manage prosperous production
of commercial enterprise on lush farms,
and support design of religious art
in songs and plays that relate noble deeds
of great hero who founded nation state.
Yet every great hero king, mortal man
who inhabits body of flesh and blood
like us, grows old, dies, and crumbles to dust,
and power of his personal authority
dissolves in wind that howls in empty halls,
and all his grand Ozymandian boasts
echo dumb over waste land of his works.
New generations rise who fight again,
arrayed and lead by power-hungry kings
to impose their world view on other groups,
and millions die in brutal fights for power
in endless cycles of destructive wars,
so fighters fail to provide secure way
that constructs stable secure social state
where all individuals prosper and thrive
pursuing personal dreams for happiness.
While warriors fought each other for power
and fame, to play gods on stage of history,
humble men and women, seeking solutions
to solve problems, discovered sacred laws
of nature, and expressed visions of life
to state concepts that explain how things work.
While mad warriors destroy to gain control,
wise philosophers and genius scientists
ask questions, conduct research, observe nature,
state hypotheses, conduct experiments,
analyze data, and develop theories
to describe how our universe operates,
created in process of cause and effect.
While warriors destroy, scientists create
better ways to comprehend and describe
complex universe that nourishes our souls,
so clever thinkers and builders through time,
who search for truth beyond outdated modes
of linguistic models, and build world views
that assist people struggling to survive
by providing accurate facts about life,
are true heroes who build civilization.
Nations base myths of their right to exist
on founding fathers, empires on bold kings
who **** and religions on peaceful prophets
who teach social rules of moral behavior,
while science builds theories of observed facts
on exact research of philosophers
and scientists into true nature of things.
I sing of scientists, who observe nature
and develop clear theories to describe
how our universe works, rather than warriors
who fight and **** because their honest work
constructs Temple of Truth secure on facts
which shelters us from storm of social chaos,
preserving peace inside strong garden walls.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC