life comes with ironies
fiction is too dull
like in some Hollywood movies
no one will know
of the man who saved the world
from winter and fire
Vasili Alexandrovich Arkhipov
unsung, radioactive, gone

.
you are a student of law
your family's well off
.

            .
            you've read some books
            and maybe saw a few docs
            you follow Paul Mason on twitter
            young and anxious so
            .

                        .
                        they caught you one time
                        a cop did a cavity search
                        illegally, while his friends watched
                        you've inhaled your share of their teargas
                        and saw your friends' limbs get smashed
                        .

                                    .
                                    your voice is most loud
                                    in an aggrieved crowd
                                    .

                        .
                        when the rage explodes
                        will you be there, next time?
                        you still believe, but for how long?
                        i think i was never a believer...
                        .

            .
            no, i don't doubt you
            not a bit. well...
            but you can always go back
            to the career you came from
            some of us cannot
            .

.
"la beauté est dans la rue"
not always. but yeah, i know.
here's another one, from me:
"la vie est ailleurs"
.

            .
            this fervor will end, i know it
            then, i will still walk here
            then, you will walk elsewhere
            this evening, though
            we 'll march with you
            .

austerity
         from old french "austérité"
                         from late latin "austerus"
                                  from ancient "αὐστηρός"

which is just greek for:*

you dense sheeple voted us again?! rofl

let me equate my genitals
to a predatory animal
to illustrate my ****** prowess
and mating standards
in song:

my vampire squid don't
my vampire squid don't
my vampire squid don't want none
unless you got an anaconda ***

my disdain for your personality
and general mentality
is also strong, simply because:

i like big ***** and i cannot lie
you other sisters can't deny
that when a boy walks in with a six pack
and a hose thing in your face
you get wet

disembodying objectification,
stereotypical representation,
hedonistic utilitarianism,
and *** ed with some rhyme:

black boy sippin' white wine
put my fist in him like a civil rights sign
then he came like aaaaah! (1)

similar to the rhythm of hokey pokey*

a coup d'etat here
and a coup d'etat there
fund some white terror
and spread red scare

Truman had his doctrine
Eisenhower did too
this way we won't waste nukes

Cold did spread and so did aid
here aid there aid
socialism won't do
you can be a dictator
just never read Marx
instigations are your cue

Juntas apply for sponsorship
but don't you dare serve your country
guerrillas and provocateurs will work for you too

you can be our terrorist
as long as we profit
"we" of course only includes
corporate elites and lobbies
one year we fund you, the other we hung you

We build military bases
no, we'll never go home
learn to love our NATO mob

Everyone is evil only we are good
we got a cowboy president... here, look!
We wage war on terror
and pretty much on all of you
while we sell our racist movies too

"
in life
some of us were hermit philosophers
some of us joined the youth in marches

in theory
we left our mark in moving sand
we walked a barren wasteland

like you, we saw the world crumbling
but when others despaired
bereft of hope
averted their eyes
from what humans had done
we gazed far into the abyss
we did not hate, we theorized

like you, we saw the world evolve
but when aged paradigms failed
as ideas of old were led astray
as all succumbed to chaotic change
and people turned to masses
we critically advised
we spoke of the era of the spectacle

now we are gone
who will stand strong
with feet on the ground
with eyes looking down
against all shouldered giants?

"

****** f@ggot shill and f@g
oldf@gs newf@gs rolling hard
trips and dubs and even quads
but OP won't deliver

rate us, hate us, sauce pls now
in this thread we save a cat
mods, is this under 18?
the /b/etards at it yet again
but we don't talk about it

cringe us rekt us make us laugh
this thread's preventing suicide
****** racism sexism ****
we mostly rate body parts in /soc/

normies not welcome
******, alpha, femanon
is a girl? **** or ****!
welcome to the internets
pics or it didn't happen

gore thread? not enough!
self-hate, ponies, rule 34 fap
the "cesspool of the internet"
is really not that bad

Hideaki Anno: teaching post-structuralism since 1995

"oh, there's no meaning here, but what do i know"

you brilliant *******, you think we'd fall for that?

Shinji was strangling Asuka for no reason at all?

was it emotional dissonance from different ego-states?

have I read into this a tad too much?

i won't believe that he just snapped!

i don't want you to tell me, but i do wanna know

suicide of the author and all that

i want to talk to you about how they frightened us
when we were still innocent, in awe of this world
        the truth, about how our parents were victims too
and perpetrators, just like we are bound to be,
just like our children will be too        like they lied
to protect, led us blindly, shaped us in their image
and likeness        i know it doesn't matter, for we all
soon will be parts of this uncontrollable machine
which surrounds us, feeding us corpses and ghosts,
relentlessly        but i want you to remember, though
it matters not, since we always forget: we were not the
builders        we were born inside it, so long ago,
for longer still, so many generations        the machine
the system | the circle | the order | the pyramid
the womb | the stage | our world
they frightened us, like the others, they divided us
they separated us, they segregated us, they labeled us
as if we were numbers or colorful pawns
like pawns they sculpted us, with much force,
shaped crowns and helmets and hats and they
carved us deeply, know this, with terror and violence
and deceit, know this, they did it more than once
they carved weapons in our hands
        and, slowly, they made us slayers, with
words of deceit that hid the truths we always knew
        but you don't remember, i know, our roots
that our materials do not differ
        and that the same chaos makes our bodies move
forwards and together, with passion and desire
        and you say you have not forgotten
but i know you all have, because they changed the words
one night, and by dawn they hanged our poets,
        for they would not obey their laws
the machine! the machine! tentacles, nets, gears
and flesh of slaves hold it all together, but the
machine, it is an idea!                and I talk, on and on,
but you won't understand        they scared you
and now you prefer silence, peace
even though voices reach us through the clatter
of metal        from time to time         you do not
hear them?        yes, no one is screaming
why would anyone scream?        the tumult
of gears crashing bones, the tentacles that drain
blood, the bony webs that crackle are but a melody
        i frighten you too, i guess, against my will
let us be silent once more

unlike many atheist crusaders, Lemmy gets it

"god was never on your side"

that is the point, nothing less, nothing more

existing or not, in a universe so vast

i' d call child services on your space-dad/mom

i mean look at this place and look at us all

all this is very, very flawed

[possibly offensive?] [possibly a rant?]

a classmate i barely knew
can't even recall her name
she asked, the simplest thing:
was i okay?

others said, well,
don't give him the attention
he'll only cut more

well, i' m over that, but,
from time to time
i see the same idiocy
emerging

what a rotten world
self-righteous world
were harm is all but mended
were weakness is offending

cannibals deny the right
to self-destruction
they moralize
and legalize
their own desensitization

just do not mark the skin that shows
just smile and wave and cry alone
just rot inside but do not die
we don't have time

i wish i could say:
if i was suicidal, i' d  like to make sure
society got what it deserved

i' d cut my wrists and paint my school
i' d scream "you ****ts did wrong me greatly!"
i' d let them know inhumanity has a cost
i' d let them know, let their kids know,
let the news show what selfishness is

I think that would be educative!

if it could be arranged
i' d have my body torn post-mortem
cut in little pieces, thrown all around
with little notes of hate
i' d even mail some!
(well, not me personally)

and it should cost time and money
and scar some kids
and make mothers cry
and be a gift of bitter empathy
as slap to the face
a kick to the nuts
since happiness and life
don't weigh that much these days
not more than bibles or grades and such

and that is selfish,
not the emo kids, not the shy ones,
not the harmless ones you bully
I would be selfish
I think that would be righteous

and that's because
i cannot stand these words:
"suicide is selfish!"
"real problems!"
"simply stupid!"
"attention ******!"

some friend you were
crude and foul and restless
ranting on and on
about all the little things
and all the greater things
while i listened
as i advised
but you did not stop to hear
did not stop to feel
the pain of mine
when i wished to be heard

some friend you were
always pleasant
almost never there
you didn't really care
you had so many things to do
claiming a relationship
between me and you and others
but you were a passerby
just a happy bird that always nested
on other trees

some friends you were
for many years
one would expect
some tears from you
but no, not even one
the things we shared were few
only i dared say that
because not even one
of you did bargain
not even one cared
i smell of rot still
miserable fools

you, some friend you were
the trusted one
you owed me very much
honeyed words won't do
i needed some friend too
was too much, i guess
i' d ask for more
but you've already crossed me
wretched ****
to me, from you, with hatred

and lastly, you,
i won't talk about you
not here too
i pretend you are forgotten
you were the best
and so much more
but i' ll remember you
as both, so... no...

writing things:
constructing entities
not objects, subjects
those entities interact
they act upon the reader
hey this is me, this is me in you
is there a me in you?
they ask
and they may say no
they may wonder and ponder
and we are so over structuralism, hence
they do not look at what you've written
or what you wanted to write
they look at the entity
and for a moment, the two converse
as far as semantics go,
you are irrelevant now
i am irrelevant now
curious things
constructing entities
not objects. very subjective subjects.
this is me, they say,
i am about love
i see everything through these lenses
i am these lenses
i am about pain
see through my lenses
read me enough times,
enough between the lines,
and you'll see the whole world
reflected, colored, distorted or true
but it is not my world
no no no
this is a conversation
you may even debate
you may even be hypnotized
there are no writers
here is the text
and there are you
talking
this is a very talkative text
i am a very talkative text
the reader may object
but i strongly believe what i believe
i am what i am
but for you, i am what you see in me
a terrible experimental poem
or a decent experimental poem
or a meta-brag from a talentless hipster
but, really, i wouldn't know
i' m here for the conversation

1.

it was morning, once, he remembers
it had to be
but he lost her somehow

2.

wind cold and sharp
breath of frost and fury
entering her void

3.

a cliff two steps back
dreams still ahead
flying away

4.

***** hands on the skin
then slithering inside
and the taste remains

5.

something like a storm in the eyes
drops salty and bitter
and light, everywhere, light

6.

a hunger for flesh in the wilds
for there is desire
but he's not here

7.

threads warping the lips
****** needles
needed silence, and right

8.

hands up, touching the sun
clouds under the feet, and a voice:
higher

9.

light through the slit and secrets
thorns all around it
and darkness

10.

hooked, gravely ill,
mania, dread and ache;
a heart

it's a figure of speech, i know, but it fails

"we have fed you all for a thousand years"

more like ten thousand years, anonymous

institutionalized oppression is very old

we built their pyramids and appeased their gods

sweat, blood, and bones have built the present

look at you, all naked.
i' m not really in the mood.

hey, stop that! i was talking!
don't try looking cute.

really, let's discuss things!
like, is this serious, or not?

we don't have time, i get it.
couple of days left and you're gone.

you know what? i wanna talk politics.
you don't tempt me, i' m a saint.

i' ll start seeing you as sexist.
i' m a guy, yes, and it's great...

i' ll attack your opinions. that'll show ya!
trotsky was a ******! nianiania!

what? you're angry now? why 's that?
no, don't get angry now! let's cuddle and stuff!

...******. them ***** were not enough.

if only enough people could agree

"they don't really care about us"

it's just not that obvious, michael

the slave has the faith the master lacks

the slave needs to believe in humanity

while the master can hardly remember

a flock abandoning a tree

a storm of wings

the blowing wind

the silence, then

and me

don't shy away, don't hide
               don't deny me the view
of all the things you are

you don't see what I see
               I am the sole beholder
lonely and mad, savouring this sweetness

verses fall flat and yield

they are but mere shadows
               as if struggling to describe
rifts of colours, concepts of harmony

just take my word
               let loose the sheets
and be there

in time I'll make you a believer

the tragedy had no hero: everything happened one night
        no palace, no gardens, no crosstalk
but steel, coal, wool
        monologues in the dark
and three fields

still, it was a tragedy: it had tragic heroes
        you and me, burdened by a fate
not ours, not fair

the story that never changes:
        lies and power, violent guile
richly dressed thieves
        stealing villagers
people with bellies
        the underfed
visions of paradise
        through the hell of others
a revolution of haves
        against the have-nots

they didn't take my land
they gave it to you
they took it from everybody
- - the commons!

she dreamed of trees that night
      branches of bone and glowing webs
flowers of flesh in a slow stir
      irises for leaves and claws as thorns

silver mosquitoes flew in the sky
      foliage trembling as they passed
proboscises with skewered humans
      fresh blood dripping, watering the moors

she ran to hide in cave of glass
      saw pale green skin, petals all around
two eyes rooted in golden wood
      weeping pollen and sap

that day he ran away
        his feet stepped on stones and dirt
grey waters and shattered glass
        but not even for a moment did he stop

he found a faraway ***** to slumber
        the day had yet not broken
but when it did he kept his eyes shut
        refusing for long the sun

once the darkness revived the terror
        he looked up with new desire
he begged the sky, and the sky took him
        with a crisp and gentle gust

I like the version by First Aid Kit, and indeed agree

"he's the universal soldier and he really is to blame"

in the end there is no hiding from this truth

their dead are not our dead, are they?

in the end we did not care enough

our ever-shepherds stained with death the youth

Natalie sings an old song, wondering

"which side are you on"

but not really

Florence Reece didn't wonder either

times do certainly change

a line that deserves a Nobel Peace Prize:

"the Russians love their children too"

oh, Sting, some decades ago they'd hang you for that

we don't want such humanity

it can make conflict hard

would you play this in a camp?

we refuse to believe,
to denounce the dream,
to not remember.

we refuse to accept,
a false defeat,
that the process has ended.

but I look around,
and it appears you've won,
and they all consented.

deafening pluralism
      post-modern [rant]
             victims of culture
spectacle love
      
packaged meanings
      individualist mass
            interconnected points
one-dimensional facts

(i) sit here and meditate on all that
(i) am so terribly meta
(i) love my corral

give all the pleasures (i) can possibly have
teach me to accept anything and never stand up
(i) wanna be a spectator of the things to come

participate the least possible and not care at all
see nothing outside my little microcosm
be a relativist moralist and completely apolitical

please convince (me) too
that we've figured it all
the details remain
but we get the whole

please assimilate me in the pack
(i) wanna be sheepish
(i)'d love to feel numb
(i) love the screen's light, (i) fear the dark

some want to be, (i) just want to have
the self is a process and (i) can't bother with that

(i) now gather tokens to show you my value
bureaucratic meritocracy, let me glorify you

tag me, price me, define me all the way
(i) hope you find a tag for my soul as well

(i) will now be infotained to catch up
will watch a news satirist to understand
after that there's this show of people losing fat
(i) get my "values" from jesters and marketing fads

look, this poem's so meta
(i) could open my heart:
[negative feeling here] [joke about that]
[unoriginal opinion] and [trivia]
[self-resentment], [a very bad pun].

it was an evening with rain
     the sun was shrouded by clouds
monsoons were embracing the trees
     awaking the scents of the earth

on the hill at the edge of the city
     a rock turned into a nest
for unripe bodies to hide
    soaking, burning, bare

every colour suddenly faded
     in memory and summer mist
it only remained in the lips
     and a few droplets of blood

"No. Don't. Just stay inside."
As you say. I don't dare ask why.
"It is nice this way. And I can hear your heart."

"It sounds so loud."
(You treacherous heart)

But that wasn't the deal.
And how can I handle that?

...

What was the deal?
"This is just ***."
No kisses or romance or...

"Let's just forget."

...

I tried. Wished to. But I wonder you see...
"Just leave me alone. I won't talk about that."
...you censored the things that troubled you still.

"That is hilarious. And you are sad."

And your schadenfreude is not humane.
"I don't know what that is. I also don't care."
But I knew your humanity all too well.

"Stop talking about it. And thinking too."

I have still the right to ******* care about you!
"Look. Cut it now. All my friends know."
I feel betrayed and now the end appears close.

...

"Oh, well, you know. I may have possibly found you love-able. Once."

You mean ****-able, right? Can't mean anything else.
"Why are you talking like that? I don't like it. It is not you."
(So-over-you attitude) (Couldn't-care-less eyes) -I won't budge.

She's tearful, now, and then she smiles.

Just when I was giving in.
"This is such a funny thing!"
Almost impossible. Anger me, please!

I once couldn't stand one bit, you looking sad.

Faking is not me. You did deserve it.
"Well, night now. My boyfriend has come."
You'll have *** till dawn and boring chat. You told me so.

I walk to my room, and insanely alone,
I shatter my mind with one simple truth:
I loved you too much. You couldn't say you loved me back.

"It was just ***** back then. Didn't think that much."
And I was just a friendly mistake.
Mea culpa and it's gone.

If people could be
a tad more appreciative
of poetic expressions
targeting them
with
too many verses for their eyes
innumerous adjectives for hair
absurd geographical descriptions of body parts
and cheesy feelings too shameful to ****** express
and just
just get a bit more intimate
with all those miserable
lonely
sorrowful
poets...

that would be great.

You can be friends,
initially,
and laugh and play,
and share.
Secret thoughts,
shameful thoughts,
the past, the future,
feelings.

You can become best friends
and know the depths
and pains
and hopes
and lies you'd say
to others

And then, you could, possibly
become aware
of each others nakedness
and taste each other
and touch each other
listen to music in total darkness
while marking the skin
with teeth
and lips
and nails
and breathe on each other
tickle, massage, lie
(on each other)
(to each other)
and rub your noses
instead of kissing
and sleep together
while still doing all the previous things
and it can be a secret
or not

and then it can be over
and mean nothing at all

words could be banned
feelings be purged
and things can change dramatically
so much
that one can live in the past
while the other has moved on
so fast
and the intimacy can linger still
but not like before
unlike some feelings, that can,
unfortunately,
linger unchanged for...
so very long

And I'm an anarchist
and an atheist
but God, to own would be a bliss
dear God, freedom has a cost.
even in love

Dear (Once) Loved One...

I used to have questions
you would not answer...
I for long thought of answers
for which you would not enquire...

So, time has passed,
and wounds have healed,
yet questions still linger inside.

I forgave you. You raged on.
I tried more. More hurtful words.

An instance of hope did shimmer,
you gave me the weight of it all,
I apologised, for I too had wronged,
yet you left me unforgiven.

I wish I was the sole traitor.
Wish I could lighten your fault.

Still, here, these words for you,
all sorrow and pain and regret,
offered to the ghost of you,
all these after so very long...

Am I broken or not?
You joked you had brought down my wall.

This must be some illness,
how could such sorrow be felt?
Emptying and freezing what's left.
Thoughts of what could have been...

I guess all that remains is this question.
It is silly and dumb and too old.

It is all I ever wanted to know.
Burning and turning and spinning.
Hauntingly corroding all thought.
I guess I could forgive you once more.

If you ever were in love with me.
If you just could not utter these words.

a girl that cried
and a man who wept
in photos, in video, in sound.

it seems so strange,
from time to time,
to not feel anything at all.

hearing some laughter,
people terribly die,
and feel no response inside.

thoughts still come and go,
inexplicably though,
as if nothing is wrong, or broken.

is there something i've forgotten?

it is not true,
but lies and ash.

it never was,
it "never, ever, could be".

i did believe.
(and so did you)

what could we do,
but lie in lies together?

it was not true,
but had you faith,
i'm truly sure,
it could be.

and there i find the pain