#qualia - Hello Poetry

Inside me is a quiet murmur a steady mental rut an unceasing pain... Continuously permeating filling empty cavities with tension, worry anxiety This is a vague description of this qualia: my consciousness in the present

0

Jul 16, 2020

Jul 16, 2020 at 2:08 AM UTC

ces-1

Describing sadness

Inside me is a quiet murmur a steady mental rut an unceasing pain... Continuously permeating filling empty cavities with tension, worry anxiety This is a vague description of this qualia: my consciousness in the present

14

What if wisdom, the thing, the being imaged in the word Sophia, philo sophia, in a meme re maining, to this very day, as true a depictical actual form, as lovable as any, though the thousand ******* of Artemis, that image... Ask how many Dr. Spock Pablum fed boys, would that image have cured from mammary ******* sensory deprivation syn drome, trap for lost boys, never wishing fully formed in Michael Jackson, eh? The Peter principle, rise to the level of one's incompetence and **** **** and consume enough food for all Artemisis famishished little lies, calling more, more, more Narrow AI, lust response, so artfully inspired by Eddy Bernays, and the silver screen's seductive radio voices, Eddy, you know, the Madison Avenue behabiourilist, Freud's nephew... he cited Watson, the one before the one with Crick. Jimenee, we have been Disnified... if I'd known sooner, I'd have left your cake out in the rain... so it melts, like the wicked witch of the west, or east, I lost my bearings who is asking what of whom, am I involved in evolving your synaptic gaps? We did entangle, in a sense. You are dear reader, in the book of life with my name in it. Not on, in.

0

Feb 28, 2020

Feb 28, 2020 at 1:34 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Gone on, not with, in not of...

What if wisdom, the thing, the being imaged in the word Sophia, philo sophia, in a meme re maining, to this very day, as true a depictical actual form, as lovable as any, though the thousand ******* of Artemis, that image... Ask how many Dr. Spock Pablum fed boys, would that image have cured from mammary ******* sensory deprivation syn drome, trap for lost boys, never wishing fully formed in Michael Jackson, eh? The Peter principle, rise to the level of one's incompetence and **** **** and consume enough food for all Artemisis famishished little lies, calling more, more, more Narrow AI, lust response, so artfully inspired by Eddy Bernays, and the silver screen's seductive radio voices, Eddy, you know, the Madison Avenue behabiourilist, Freud's nephew... he cited Watson, the one before the one with Crick. Jimenee, we have been Disnified... if I'd known sooner, I'd have left your cake out in the rain... so it melts, like the wicked witch of the west, or east, I lost my bearings who is asking what of whom, am I involved in evolving your synaptic gaps? We did entangle, in a sense. You are dear reader, in the book of life with my name in it. Not on, in.

34

king of all the children of prride, a challenge simulate the mind of christ, imagine that, but before that mind there were others, fully contained in the godhead, ****** the reference points we are mortal at or on or in or of or whatever withknown mitgnostic mag-I-artful-intuition ifity springing, post clockwork world, post atomic force augmention focus visuals translated in virtual 2-d a word. is. wide or long but never short and long and high or low, without a very sophia isticated way of folding re ality into now, with you finding yourself beyond the Disney-ifiers set with cubic ziconia tiaras holding mantilla veils covering the window in the top of you head. --- great message, I got a lot out o' that. --- especially the worthship seamanship **** preventer, look up, y' re demption station draweth nigh, we all *** rrecycle by and by, jest, decide not to lie, ye get by. And y'kids do, too.

0

Feb 1, 2020

Feb 1, 2020 at 5:02 PM UTC

kenpepiton

A pequeno riata on leviathan

king of all the children of prride, a challenge simulate the mind of christ, imagine that, but before that mind there were others, fully contained in the godhead, ****** the reference points we are mortal at or on or in or of or whatever withknown mitgnostic mag-I-artful-intuition ifity springing, post clockwork world, post atomic force augmention focus visuals translated in virtual 2-d a word. is. wide or long but never short and long and high or low, without a very sophia isticated way of folding re ality into now, with you finding yourself beyond the Disney-ifiers set with cubic ziconia tiaras holding mantilla veils covering the window in the top of you head. --- great message, I got a lot out o' that. --- especially the worthship seamanship **** preventer, look up, y' re demption station draweth nigh, we all *** rrecycle by and by, jest, decide not to lie, ye get by. And y'kids do, too.

27

These subcategories of articles That separate theory from fact Are lines that, really, Are quite unclearly drawn. Categories for theory and qualia That put me under the impression That everything is based on a conjecture And it's all in my head. Qualia is defined as being subject To your sense perceptions Brought on by stimulation of phenomena. Theory is a system of ideas used To explain something. But don't we theorize everything, Based on our qualia? If we perceive that a rose is red, And we theorize that this type of rose Will always be red because we will always see it red, Does that really make it red? Is my red your green, And you only call it red because to you need to call it something? Or is that just our theory that to be comfortable Is to fit in and be accepted by everyone? And that to challenge what is called fact Is to be rejected? Where do we draw the line In these thickly worded and sinking articles? Is it where we can finally say that Everything is based on theory that our qualia subjects us to? If so, am I under the correct theory that I really am alone? That my sense perceptions just play tricks on me So I don't think to hard, or go insane? Is insanity just theory based on qualia? Or maybe I should be under the theory That being a thinker like this Subjects me to the unpleasant qualia of a perceived headache.

0

Apr 13, 2014

Apr 13, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC

kirsten-lovely

This Poem is a Theory.

These subcategories of articles That separate theory from fact Are lines that, really, Are quite unclearly drawn. Categories for theory and qualia That put me under the impression That everything is based on a conjecture And it's all in my head. Qualia is defined as being subject To your sense perceptions Brought on by stimulation of phenomena. Theory is a system of ideas used To explain something. But don't we theorize everything, Based on our qualia? If we perceive that a rose is red, And we theorize that this type of rose Will always be red because we will always see it red, Does that really make it red? Is my red your green, And you only call it red because to you need to call it something? Or is that just our theory that to be comfortable Is to fit in and be accepted by everyone? And that to challenge what is called fact Is to be rejected? Where do we draw the line In these thickly worded and sinking articles? Is it where we can finally say that Everything is based on theory that our qualia subjects us to? If so, am I under the correct theory that I really am alone? That my sense perceptions just play tricks on me So I don't think to hard, or go insane? Is insanity just theory based on qualia? Or maybe I should be under the theory That being a thinker like this Subjects me to the unpleasant qualia of a perceived headache.

37