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Universal Thrum Sep 2013
Oh, But what does it all mean Hidalgo?
Are we to fly in the face of the North Wind forever?

My mind has gone blank at the question.
Stranger still, the story perceived in prescient anticipation of the exact mentioned query once expounded upon spanning millions of miles of eloquent esoteric linguini, wit and charm with a dash of philosophic consequence, to fool you (the eager) into belief.

What is belief Hidalgo, but the suspension of reality, for an adept deeper world of unseen truth?

Do we see reality at all my friend? It is already shaped by our perceptions, responds to our expectations, nay we have not a clue, perhaps the arcane texts written by the hobo scholars of old hold the answer, so yet we settle on the material and fixate it as the lone clear star in an otherwise dark and cloudy sky. Mysteries abound behind the cosmos. Even when we look, do we really see, or are we as an insect upon the written page, crawling over the plain meaning? Is our capacity to hear underwhelmed by our propensity to listen? All these senses must count for something, for God is in a blade of grass, is he not, felt by the trodden hoof of the foot.

You’re a clever mad man Hidalgo.

Ay, the penultimate creator, singing in a sea of song, shining in a wave of light, lost in a dance of fractals, we are all the same rascal, blind though we are to the portrait of man, always creating, same as my neighbor, weaving dreams into Technicolor realities to beam into a future unknown. Our descendants watching us as reality television, mocking our fallibility, or perhaps empathizing and learning through telescopes strong enough to win a foot race with the sun; flying around the bend of space time and back.

The birds of the island are calm today; think they favor a slumbering respite from the noonday heat?

Mayhaps we’ll take a stroll across the columnous muddy bed, risking grey clay mummified suffocation; I dreamt as such. Yesterday’s storms make the journey perilous. My own thoughts leak from the grandiose ether and compel me to genius, the condition of the interminably insane or divine.

My bare feet tread the good earth, the 3rd density, in a daily attempt to stay grounded, however my mind is always floating, receiving transmitted whispers. Sanctified secret musings of the muse. Scribbled poetry of another dimension, meaningless to the materially minded, yet wholesome for the moment. Like a thunderstorm whose power is plain, yet unheard and unseen as the forest falling with a tree. Where do the tree and the forest begin? Are they the same root? Like my thoughts from a universal mind, the zeitgeist of an all-encompassing mood, a social memory complex.

The sophists will claim you are dodging responsibility. These tangents serve only to feed your egoic mind, but put no food in your belly nor rent in another’s hand.

Ay, but its creation all the same.
A tirade of compulsions. The ringing of the hill grows, the natural chorus of bugly unison screaming its existence into the manifold, manifesting itself to the initiate.

For what are they asking, could it be peace?

Ha Ha! Those shrill like cries wound the ears of the prideful dog, but are contained in the silences of the infinite potential all the same.

A man may change one hundred lives in a day, and earn no material currency for his unasked effort. Therefore, who is trivial? I change the wind by simply being, its current flows over me and the endless blades alike.

Vibratory love, what is that feeling, the realest phenomena of all?

Bliss in its own awareness, reveling in self-revelation, actualization, the knowingness of the child who still sees the spirit existing in each of the physical realm’s shadows. The taste of the foul and pure passing without judgment to the innocent tongue. A simple being secure with the wisdom of the wise. Does the power come from you or the hill, inspiring motions, accounting on the page symbolically. Break it down further. Dissolve. ******* into nothingness.

What is cheating Hidalgo?

Is the ant called to my arm by its own volition, how did it find me here on this patch of earth formed into mound by ancestors buried below.

Opening up all channels now.

Death locks the door with life’s key.

Should I let him crawl over me repeatedly?

Ten words to speak before the coming of the night.

Creative Destruction
Awake from the trance
Guns and Bullets
Shoot from our hands
Teller of Tales
Faint whisperer
Of sordid man’s
Hallucinatory waking
Follow the Beam
Follow the beam
The world before this world
Secrets unseen
My best thoughts come
As I lie suspended awake in sleep
Before sleep
No troubles
The curse runs blood deep
He closes the book but still speaks in rhyme
The riddle draws madness
The tongue laps up the fire
Drawn from self same wells
Will and Desire
Pruning and Preening
Political Beasts are we
Lost in our notions
I find, I keep
Braggadocioc Players
Upon the Worldly stage
Every person has the story
Only what is real?
What is fate?
So I lift my hat
To another year born true
A quarter century passed
Play the tune


Am I awaken by words from another man’s sleep?
What is the source of the tetradactyl nature?
My hexagonal heap
Of flesh and bones
Earth and dust
Brought together again by unending sound vibrating ceaselessly
I sleep but am not rested
Eat but am never full
The piper plays among the sand
Whirling in the heart of the caged word
If I keep my eyes fixated on a point, in actuality my vision expands and visualizes all

Reputationally speaking,
I am an ant, with male pattern baldness
We forget to chuckle at life’s absurdities, just as we pass by flowers without engaging the fragrance.


Rest your head with the hillside now
Restless wanderer of fantastical dreams

Treading water silently until our legs melt
Just as the weary albatross cries its last song over the harbor or the butterfly ***** its freckled wings, so too will we see the setting of the sun and a coming of the new dawn. If the chalk works carved in the abandoned sidewalk are to be believed, so must we girdle ourselves for the coming tides and lift our spirits once more for the ebb and flow of circumstance. The bike rides in the gutter all the same, and the forgotten cemetery stone stands as testament to the age gone by.
ladanegeh Aug 2013
I found myself in a room of mirrors.
Some were kind, and others, not so much.
They said to me "Come closer, come closer!"
So I walked into the room,
And dropped. Thousands and thousands of feet,
Into my own living hell.
----------------
Poets Comment: See the point of this is that you can never see the true you, and reach self Actualization, even if you try to conquer the demon inside of you.
Zoe R Codd Jul 2014
Weight lifted,
Darkness fading into light.
Felt in my fingertips,
And my mind.
Brightened eyes,
Looking for a smile.
The scars are fading into
Thin lines,
Barely noticed by a passer by.
No more tear-streaked cheeks,
Salt droplets replaced with rosy tints.
Sleeves rolled up,
Nothing to be ashamed of.
Zoe R Codd Jul 2014
I never knew
That I could ever feel
So renewed.
But what a wonderful thing,
Is the serenity
That is coursing through my veins.
Those little roads
Each leading a path of righteousness,
Heading towards an accepting overload;
One that grows wildflowers
On my brightened mind.
No more tears as spring showers,
Or a darkness of which the light, I cannot find.
There is a new view,
That the light has led me to-
And I cannot
Be more thankful!
Lawrence Hall Sep 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

                      Decolonize Unpacking Actualization

Let’s unpack the cliches and hyperbole
The nuclear option and we’ve got this
What we know now we have our options frontline
Off the table Armageddon option

Privileged out of an abundance of caution
Like an actual warzone actually
Or forging a road, a path, a plan
(Says he who never saw a blacksmith’s forge)

Decolonize decolonization
And actuate actualization

(By blazing a trail that unlocks the future)
A poem is itself.
orangeoreos May 2016
I wandered through your ways and fell in love with your beauty
I touched your soul then allowed it to devour my entirety
I fed on you filling me with self-actualization
Now, I'm following you with my hopes of finding the path to my own salvation
Amazed by how a single person could make me play with words like that. Whatever lol.
Ally Van Amstel Jul 2018
My life is better for having met you.
A friend
Who feels nothing like a friend at all.

My life is better for having known you.
A champion
Who champions my pursuit of actualization.

My life is better for having loved you.
An equal
Who holds an unequal piece of my heart.

A man
who leaves me better
than he found me.
To become aware of the single moment that needs interpreting
To be jolted from sleep between sheets creased in the tribulations of dreamscapes
Clammy hand pressed to neck you remember yourself
And before it slips and crumbles spiraling up to the cosmos it is captured
Pinch your eyes together and draw the cool water from the well

A friend’s arm around your shoulder; a sweaty smile, meandering through
The crowds of faces, each one drab and still, motionless for you
Tendrils of tenderness wandering o’er a body consumed in secret greed and corrosion
And the cheeky faced attached returning curiosity masked in love
Flitting up and down the stem of the one you knew to be yours
Yearning for her to open her petals and reward arduous labor
The repose of correcting ages of missteps and the satisfaction of
Correctly placing lost experience
Enjoying the rhythm pounded out by drums of progress, and then pacing
To one all your own
Reasserting brutal individuality in spite of legions upon legions of conformity
Then ironically setting the trend

Once seized, every vague trapping melts down weary head, past hunched back
Beyond knees bend to reach toe tip
Revitalized by the comfortable shade of your whole self, the parts unwanted, unseen
Usurped, intangible, inconceivable, and most illustrated purely glow
A self if surely sacked, a reanimated soul now softly speaks, and sexuality is assured in
Each slow step
ladanegeh Aug 2013
The darkness enfolds me in its holy grasp, as I take in my surroundings,
My life, my home, are gone, like the quick breeze of a day gone by.
And just like that, a snap of the finger, I bring myself to face,
The demon inside of me.
Beth MacDermott Oct 2012
I was made for abandonment.
Like a sea turtle left in the sand to hatch on her own and bravely voyage into the ocean,
Escaping her idle life in a pure, white shell for a treacherous journey into a polluted, dark ocean.
She will encounter beasts who will attempt to postpone her self-actualization.
She's alone, but brave.
She knows what she must do
With the sound of the ocean and the light of the moon as her only guides.
She pauses at the shoreline,
The tide comes in,
Sweeps her off her feet and welcomes her in a beautiful embrace.
However...
I am still struggling with the beasts who promised me an easier life
Away from the mysterious ocean;
Idle in their arms.
They led me astray before I realized that while the ocean tides change, they follow the beautiful, definite pattern of the moon.
A poetic drama (One Scene)

( Egypt’s parliamentary farce)

(The spokesperson on the presidium strikes the table with a wooden hammer and asks for order. Participants become quiet.
Raise your hands and reflect your views on today’s point of argument— The Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD ) on Blue Nile. Various people representatives raise hands,
The spokesman says let us start with Mr. Hydrologist over there.)

Egypt’s globally
Topmost voluminous
Underground
Reserve of water
We could use later.
So via our media outlets
It is better
We dupe
The global community with
Much-touted chatter
“To Egyptians
Demand of water
To cater
Blue Nile is
A life and
Death matter!
As thicker than blood
Is water! ”

Of course,
From the Mediterranean
Or Red Sea
We could extract, desalinate
And use water,
But why should
We talk about that?
We better
Ask on Blue Nile
A farfetched exclusive right.

Though hydropower dam
Has no significant harm
We shall flout it
In a way it runs
Out of charm.
As  the Nobel peace winner
Premier  Abiy Ahmed put it
"Almost all Egyptians
Enjoy the supply of electricity,
While over half of Ethiopians
Are thirsty of such necessity.

Tragically, to date
Using a lamp
Covers most of Ethiopia's map.

For the rational,
It is a source of worry
Innumerable Ethiopian mothers
Still on their backs carry
Backbreaking firewood
So that go to school
Their children could.
What we say
Is if you  are remiss to help
don't stand on our way
While we're flapping wings
From fettering poverty
To break away!"


Also via a conduit
Diverting Blue Nile
Across the Sahara desert
A financial return
Egypt could get
That delights its heart.
The water from
Upstream countries
We do not buy
But paradoxically sell it
We shouldn’t why?

Like Israel
Using drip irrigation
Must not
Draw our attention.
We shall be extravagant
For Blue Nile’s water
Is abundant.
Unchecked lavishly
It must flow!
Pertaining to that
We have to remain adamant.

Also, the
Silt accumulation
In Aswan dam
Could be disastrous
The outcome,
Yet we have
To cry foul
This challenge-averting
GERD must not soon
Generate region-
much-needed power!

Though it is 50 % of the
Annual trans boundary
Water outflow
Other water-generating countries
Are willing to let go
Unwilling anything below,
Kind Ethiopia ventures
Holding only 13% of
The yearly flow to follow,
However, ingratitude
Must feature our attitude.
This may
Provoke a  dismay
But attention
We shall not pay.

(A tumultuous applause shook the parliament. Once more the spokesman asks for order. Then he invites a former diplomat saying “ it is your turn.”)

Once, by famine hit
When Ethiopia   asked
“Help me not why?”,
While others extended help,
Mocking, we did turn
A blind eye.

As our former bent
Whenever Ethiopia
Seeks  grant
From international
Development Institutions
On grounds of
Fighting poverty and drought,
Greasing palms  
We shall bring
Ethiopia’s plans to harness
Blue Nile to naught!
Use we shall
Many a phony diplomat
With a tongue of honey
And a heart of gall.

Tact we do not lack
So cautiously,
Our sanctimonious mask
Our targets
May not hack,
All out
We shall engage in
Self-selling talk!

From all things that fall
In the technical matrices
We shall make a sham politics.

(He sits enjoying a standing ovation. The spokesman invites a representative with a military background.)

We shall blow our
Trumpet in the air
“In lieu of
The reasonable 3 years,
Cooperatively,
From 4 to 6 years
To fill the dam
If Ethiopians dare,
War on it
We shall declare!
Barefacedly claiming
Fifteen to 20 years
Is what is fair!

In such infeasible way
Before it sees the day’s light
GERD will suffer blight.”

(He hiccups and continues)

“With a bellicose bent
To remind ourselves
Deliberately we shall fail
So many times Ethiopia
Chased out every
Egypt’s invading army
Between its legs
Shoveled its tail.
(Ex. Isma'il Pasha/ 1874 –1876
Gundet &Gura March 7–9, 1876)
But why should we care
Arsenal support
Hypocrites, who want to exploit
In the Middle East
Egypt’s political purport,
Will bring to our port.
The current catchphrase
"I can't breathe"
Demonstrates hypocrites'
Justice has no teeth!

We shall
Continue to brag
About GERD’s full actualization
Foot to drag.
I’m afraid
If we strike GERD,
On Aswan dam
Ethiopia will certainly inflict
A similar harm.
Its infantry
Acid-tested hero
Within finger-counted days
Will march into Cairo.

Its top official or
One from its mob
Cold blow up in Egypt a bomb.

We have to understand
As its former PM
Meles put it
“It is not
Its football squad
Ethiopia will deploy
On the terrain rough
When the going
Gets tough!”

We shouldn't worry
We have no history
Of battle front victory.
Poking our nose here and there
(Sudan, Somalia, Yemen,
Libiya, Palestine, Israel)
We shall make political trouble
As we are averse to self
-politics burgeoning dabble.

(He sat after enjoying a heartwarming laughter from the audience. The spokesman himself could not help unzipping his lips and invites a hoary headed historian.)

Subjects of colonization
It is our
Historic right
For the hanging-over
Mentality of predators
To fight
“Gobbling down
All resources
Is our right!”
We shall espouse
Unjust and inequitable deal
“Ethiopia fairly
GERD must not fill!”
We must gamble
Regarding the water division
There has to be a deal
That serves our colonial
Legacy a sign and seal.

There is nothing we hate
Than the following sentiment
Pan Africanists activate.
"We have to get
Behind our back
Days dark!"

(He sits accompanied by an affirmative nods. The spokesman invited Miss Environmentalist "it is your turn." "Thank you for the opportunity,"  she said and  standing she scanned the congregants
before speaking)

In parrying evaporation
GRERD being built in a gorge
Than Aswan Dam
In the desert
Draws better attention.
Though logical,
This we do not wish to hear
So we shall turn a deaf ear
Saying
“Your nuisance
We no longer bear!”

Of course
To avoid siltation
In GERD
Also to ensure
The continuous flow of water
Towards Green development
Ethiopia is making an unprecedented &
Unflagging movement.

Yes , Yes
Green development
Draws rain
Though that is
To our gain
From expressing
Appreciation to
Ethiopia’s timely move
We shall refrain.

From the voice of
Sagacious leaders of
Africa
It is better
To heed a hypocrite
From America;
That could not be a shame
In the political game.

(She takes a seat enjoying a high five. The spokesman invites a parliamentarian who is a member of the Arab league.)

As Sudan poses
A rational gait
Its voice has weight.
Our sugar-coated talk
It may not buy
Hence, the fuel-intoxicated
Gluttonous Arab League
Its voice
Needs to raise high.
White supremacists
Must try hard
To sweet talk Sudan
To our side.
Otherwise
Creating political heat
In to two its people
We have to split
To unseat
Its incumbent president
Popular support that ride.
This  insidious tide
From Sudanese mob
We have to hide!

We have a toy League
That doesn’t ask itself
“ Why
War-fleeing Arabs ,
Shunned by Arabs,
Seek a safe haven
Under Ethiopia’s sky?
Why  of all
In Prophet Mohammed's eyes
Ethiopia stands tall?”
That no one could deny
But we must
Neither wonder  nor ponder
“Why
For own advantage
Arabs-eating-Arabs
That commit  
Political suicide
Could not
Stand by
The reasonable
Ones’ side?”

Creating this and  
That pretext
We shall derail
The all-out task
To bring GERD’s to end,
At long last
To make it
As good as dead.

Why should we care?
If Ethiopia or the region is
Thirsty of hydropower
In so far as
Our conceited
Pride remains
In glory tower.


Moreover if soured
Pushed to the end or angry
Reflect  we must not
Ethiopians could tame
Its this or that tributary.

(When a wealthy merchant raised his hand the spokesman gave him a green light to speak.)

Pampering with money
Fifth columnists cruel
Let us keep on using
In Ethiopia
As runs the adage
Divide and rule,
Along ethnic
And religious lines
To  drive a wedge
So that Ethiopians will not
Come to the same page,
While turmoil in their country
Opts to rage.

We could ignore the fact
Ethiopians soon display
Unity and solidarity
When threatened gets
Nation’s  sovereignty.
In Ethio-Somali war
Ethiopians Karamara’s Victory
Talks loud such history.

I'm afraid
Our  divisive action could
Bring together Ethiopians,
Be it on left or right end,
Their sovereignty to defend.


Robbed of
Their alluvial soil
By a prodigal river
Ethiopia’s  farmers
Undergo a hard toil
If we are asked for that
Compensation to pay
“No!”
We  have  to say.

Note that
Using industrialization
Like Japan
Develop we can
Than irrigating  
A- scorching-sun
-smoldered land
Full of sand.

As the  jealously insane
What should worry Egypt
Must not  be what  it could lose
But  Ethiopia gain.
What I fear
In the diplomatic arena
With GERD Ethiopia
Will come forth
Shifting gear.
When Ethiopians' development
Proceeds apace
Ethiopia could Egypt displace.
So on its development
We  have to pose a roadblock
Or a spoke.
.

(This much  farce is enough for today .Parliament is dismissed says the spokesman.)////////
Science-based approach visa-vis politics- based approach. Colonial legacy has no room in the 21th century
wanderer Nov 2013
chaste pecks from the super-sonic youth
numb lips flutter to the hollowed cheeks of normality
no longer the hand-prints on the guide book to hostility
a pamphlet of rudimentary teachings;
the principles of tolerance and rebellion and acceptance of human beings
a concoction of suppressed psychotic behavior, quick wit, and center of satirical tease
constantly moving with heavy footsteps and heavier hearts
their minds and bodies plagued with actions from a deserted youth
soul lusting over the naivety of people before self-actualization; how crude
do they call it an existential crisis or the daily life of a agoraphobic nobody
shouts from the depths of caged fears that scrape the oblivious flesh in their brain; a bit gaudy
mother, sister, brother, father how your words crush the knots of comfort that line my internal organs
bleeding from the pores of my screams; streams of moon-beams shooting out my eyes; oh, not again!
stomping our metaphorically spiked toenails against the idealism of pop culture
oh, my, how adolescence is the worst kind of torture
cherry slushies lined with cigarettes to create a whirl-pool of nostalgia
recreational drugs and ironic situations to ease our instinctual sense of proverbial nausea
loud-mouthed demons spawned out of clothes-hangers and emotional turmoil
show up in our nightmares that we nick-name ‘a good place to contemplate suicide’
repeated imagery stacked like flap-jacks in the mouths of blissed-out sociopaths
too self-indulgent to include us in to their personal stories so we can observe, record, and assess
i don’t perceive doctors to be particularly and predominantly just and true
but i one time met a doctor who told me ‘being a teenager is perhaps the hardest thing you could ever do’
anastasiad Apr 2016
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Daylight 4U2C Apr 2015
Actually,
I'm not too bad.
Actually,
I'm pretty great.
Actually,
I'd hate myself.
Actually,
What could you really hate?
Actually,
I wouldn't be anything if I were missing anything.
Actually,
I wouldn't be anyone if I were missing anyone.
Actually,
I'm good.
Actually,
I'm great.
Actually,
I'm not that bad,
Actually,
I'm no saint.
Actually,
I can be me.
Actually,
I can and am
Actually,
I'd never want to be the same.
Because...
Being a robot would be such a shame.
Blue Nile echo from shore to shore,
"Poverty in Ethiopia is no more!"

Above all,
From a precipice
To a valley when you majestically fall,
Thunderous over
The damp dell, mountain gorge when you roll,
As usual
With green, yellow and red
Rainbow arched,
Tell Ethiopia loud-
"You children thee very much adore,
A lip service they now abhor!
‘Blue Nile has no lodging,
Yet it loafs a log hauling.' "

Blue Nile, about your deeds to talk
Breathtaking, you served well
The industry without smoke,
But now you have an extra work!
Far
   And
       Wide
Ethiopia will be electrified,
With Blue Nile,
               Gebe,
                    Tekeze... at hand!
Every nook and cranny will get light,
When efforts Ethiopians unite!

The future will be bright,
When a tamed Blue Nile ceases
Unchecked to roar past
Without a respite.

No energy source runs waste
Nor any Plant will suffer a blackout!

Lo and behold Blue Nile will be subdued
For riparian countries' good!

To contribute a brick,
Ethiopians twice you shouldn't think.
Farmers have mounted on a peaceful battle,
To cover the catchment with a green mantle,
To make terrace
On each mountain
Take every pain.
To afforest the depleted f o r e s t!
Thus washing on its sway,
Blue Nile conspires no more
To carry alluvial soil away.

Here of course it is good to recall
The message of Emperor Twedrose.
"Dear guests you are
Amidst people hospitable
Welcome, welcome
Feel at home!
Roam throughout
Abyssinia you might,
On its grandeur your eyes
You can feast.
The vast array of
Mouthwatering dish,
The country parades
You could relish.

In case you wish
For an adventure,
Still Ethiopia
Is a mosaic of culture!

Of course
It will grab your attention,
Ethiopia's being
A cradle of mankind
And ancient civilization.

You will see
To its music titillating,
Comes close nothing!
Moreover fails not
To draw your attention,
The affection
Among people hailing from
Different ethnic groups and religion.
But you can't transport a speck of dust,
Alighted or pasted on your shoe by accident!
So to get an exit,
Shake off your shoe and wash your feet!"

Giving to every dust attention
It is possible to ward off
The problem of siltation.
Besides don't you think
The forests serve a carbon sink?

Blue Nile echo from shore to shore
"Poverty in Ethiopia is no more!"

As though Abyssinia,
Africa's water tower
Is a weakling with no power,
On every news hour,
Portraying Ethiopia
A development backwater,
Also scornfully on a dictionary
Painting its people thirsty and hungry
Have no grounds any!
From a rain fed agriculture
Head on
Making a paradigm shift,
Irrigation when Ethiopia further adopt,
The vicious cycle of drought,
Which poses a threat
To its development,
Will give way to a bumper harvest,
Once more rendering Ethiopia
A cornucopia.

Ethiopians be not cool,
Be not cool
Resources to pool!

Lo and behold Blue Nile will be subdued
For riparian countries' good!

Yet, yet hanging up together
Be high on the alert
Any aggressor to deter!
Many are
Who wear a frowning face,
When development
In Ethiopia picks pace!

Keep open your eyes,
Keep open your eyes
At all time, all space
Where infrastructures
Are put in place.

To the helm of development
Ethiopia will soon catapult,
When its children
In full harness their resources put.
So cognizant of this fact,
Ethiopians allow not
The grass to grow under your feet.
Don't wait
Behind the campaign
To throw your full weight!

For work, roll up your sleeve
Ready for ‘The Renaissance Dam'
Your sweat
B
L
O
O
D
And life to give.
March out for prosperity
In Ethiopia to thrive,
What we need have
Is a bond-cohesive
A

B-O-N-Decisive.
Go all out, go all out,
Us, lucky we have to count
For seizing such a ripe moment.

Blue Nile echo from shore
"Poverty in Ethiopia is no more!"

Come-on let us not beg to differ,
Of course we could concur,
For all of us will agree,
Our pet dream is to see,
Ethiopia industrialized
Completely transformed!

Laying the foundation,
Where on takes off
The future generation,
Is what begs for
Central attention.

Why, Why and Why,
With our hands
Tucked in our pockets,
You and I
Remain standers by?
Also why
Simply watch the clouds
Glide across the sky?
Must we indeed,
Sowing a discord seed
Allow our rivers run wild,
Turning a blind eye to our need.

Wiseacres, though
You may not be on the same page,
Between stakeholders
Don't drive a wedge,
The government proves out
Out to fulfil its pledge.
In life it is not hard
To get sceptics,
Dear leaders talk your walk
Walking your talk!
Prove sceptics wrong
Letting them witness
The actualization
Of the dam agog.

Tax payers, if you have
A tax arrear
See it finds its ways to
The government's coffer.

Taxes being
A development backbone
Must be mysterious to none.

Target also rent seekers
That drive spokes
In to development wheels!
The environment smart Great Ethiopian Renaissance dam that holds promise for regional growth and green resilient economy.Ethiopians are constructing it by themselves with out any aid.
ladanegeh Aug 2013
He spoke the words in a slur
As if they came straight from hell
And they seemed so true, so sweet, I could taste it in my mouth.
I felt that I must follow it, and I will realize what life means.
So, I went deeper, and deeper, and deeper, into my soul.
And I found what I was looking for.
Ellyse Amelia Oct 2011
I have just finished reading your letter and am in complete rapture to your words and your being. I am compelled to write to you, and write to you, and write to you. And in these words and simple letters, re-live our passion and create it all anew for the rest of time. I felt you so deeply today...
Before the call, I sat nervous awaiting for you to spend the day with me...awaiting a still day, a sad day, a breaking of myself...but it turned out unexpected though in all of today's chaos, it unfolded as more than I could have ever asked for. As unfortunate as the situation unraveled...today I saw your strength, I saw everything I wish I be in you. I saw the other half of me stand tall, remain still, carry the fear inside her like a secret and I am left bewilderd by you. The intensity of the day, now as I sit back and remember vividly every uttered word and every action, has exhausted me but in the most grateful of ways. I feel full, full of new understandings and needless to say, full of you. I soaked in what I could of you. I've memorized every curve of your face, counted every delicate lash, fixated amongst each ring of your eye when the sunlight falls in and engages within them...and yet still, now as you lay miles away from me I wish to imprint these gifts deeper inside me, I wish for more. The smell of you surrounds me in this very moment, making it all the more intoxicating, the smell of the cleanest ocean...
Your tears liberated me, as I so desperately wished to be released from my physical body and to be swept into you, literally. Holding you close I felt everything within you, and I hope you felt the pull of me. I wanted only to stay in your arms for the rest of my days, to lie in bed again with you once more and spend it still curled in our form as the morning flooded in your window. I've remembered everything. And as I listened to you speak of your new relationship...parts of me crumbled. Many parts, parts of my own emotion but more so parts of yours. Because I know what it is you need, I know what it is to sustain you, I know what you deserve. And although she means well within her posture, and she is overflowing with passion and working to bring you nearer...she lacks something strong. To hear of your frustrations parts of me die...I envy where she stands for I cannot yet be there. But I rest assured that one day I will soon be able to be what it is I wish to be for you. Able, independent, mobile...happy. And for now, I wish only the best for you and her. Because I want to see you smiling. This has all unraveled as it should, this has all unraveled as it should. Many things must first take course... for the both of us.

You are all I have dreamed of. Everything I seek...I cannot even handle it inside myself what a more perfect fit. You will always be the one.
..


From me: To you (The last of a series)
the last week has been nothing but utter confusion for my soul. a new soul in different forms has seemed to be fulfilled with a new face of time, a new ticking of my multiple clocks. as i read your letter i felt similarities. i knew what you would write to me if you were to even write at all. i remember seeing you the first day, as i walked in from the rain and attempting to act as though we were in different places and following separate steps. i spoke to you and i wished it never to end, suprised i was even within a distance to touch you. un knowing of why you accepted the actualization of me infront of you. supportive of one another, setting advice and stories in our ears. i wished to not step beyond your doorstep. a hug and a kiss on your warm cheek nearly tore me. and a kiss from you set me back 100 flights of upwards motion. heart baffled and feet unsteady, as they had always been for you..as i had almost forgot them being. so tired had i become of this stability within my bones, till i met you. i felt the oceans pounding me weak within your gaze.
as the events of the other day unfolded as terribly as they did all i could think , was you were the only one that would hold me fast to my mind. keep me one and fill me with the strength to pull myself above it all. slide your hand within mine and give me a release. when i watched you walking towards me i saw myself, the confidence in your eyes for me that you knew you would make it all..ok, dealable, better within me and my soul. it all felt as old. it was as if it was not the last moments together, we were just..us. laughing, being "stupid", talking ****, keeping ourselves withing our own jokes..it was all just there without any drawing of the past.
the drive back was the turning point of it all. heart breaking my weak ribs as twigs under a mountain.
of her i did not expect to speak but i needed to show you my honesty in a matter i knew you had already known well. i am in many places at once. on one hand she has the capability to give me everything else i could want including such an immense love that i have never been given in such a way..but knowing i have your soul, for now anyways, seems to set everything else aside. her words come out garbled when trying to make a point and i cannot trust her to decypher my meaning in my motions, in my puzzled words, in the language of my body and the emotions i need to thrive within this world. you say you have no jealousy but it is a lie within yourself. you know what you wish to have and it is what she has for me. she has parts of this body but can never consume all that you have..just look at what you are now and imagine what you will be by the time you are my age..you will have more than anyone could ever give me in any aspect and you know this as well as i. others will bide our time, create new motions for our ink to flaunt on paper, give us the tools we need for our new forms of art and then we are forced to move to the next and destroy them unwantingly. we wish not to hurt the others around us but it is what we have been created to do..we have always known this..and i believed it would be a continuation of my life, and had come to terms with it years ago..until i looked into your eyes and found the last sentence of my novel. i will suffer the pain of a thousand burning suns, the pain of a life full of slow torture when you find the next person in your life..to know they will only know you from the outside and never be able to understand what you are..because they have not the other part of my soul to understand what you have been as a whole. they will see your eyes, though not past the glare of their own reflection. feel your skin, but not able to grow new parts of you upon them with every brush. kiss your lips, but never fear they may suddenly be sewn into you. nor change the world with you in a single moment. they will all be the "rest of the world." they will all be the pawns on the maps we use to find the way in ourselves to get back to each other.
i broke in front of you. to look at my soul. to see through her eyes the way i had always wished to . to see without you having to say..that you loved me, that you hurt. tears unleashed, falling on every velvet fashion of you. i saw more of your form than i had ever seen in those few moments that lasted. the way your hair always smelled, the edges of each freckle on your face, the curve of your smile when i made you laugh, the heat of your hands on the back of my neck and the small of my back, the dapples dancing around your pupils, how your breath felt against my fingers as you shut your eyes and kissed them, seeing me break and grabbing hold of me as to take the pain away from my core..to feel me and take on the load of emotion, and memorizing each angle of your lips as they sank into mine.
as i read in your letter that you loved me i melted. to see what i had seen in your eyes now in two forms of the best kind. to say again, it as if we are in a world of war. separated by strife and harsh people, harsh mindsets, stagnant exhistances. love letters sent over a sea of pawns in this war, some battles won, others lost, stale-mate at times, and long periods of lost connection. though when the war inside has been won, once the baracades of our cores have fought through it all, blockades dismantles, and the survivor, the warrior, the overcomer has found their way back to the homeland of eachothers souls..then the most beautiful beginnings in their lives will become an actualization. the universe will give us upon the deserving and all the pieces will mold what it had been cast years before.
we are it....
. we are the truth that the world has been seeking, and the hope that it has been wishing for. we are the dream they have every night, and the novel they is seen only in themselves when they close their eyes. we have opened our eyes, we accept and see and cannot wait to grow within and for one another. you are my gift, what i have searched for in my soul. you are my entire consuming force.
you are the one. you are the love of my life. and for now, the one that got away.

- I love you
Thescientist Mar 2017
I don't want someone in my world
who wishes to be perfect.
Because that means they will look to me to be perfect as well.
I refuse to carry this.
Life is already too much.
I can not be judged by them.
Who are they anyway?
I have all of these "flaws" that I embrace because it unstresses me to know.
I get to wake up everyday and be myself. The only person I've  known for all of these years.
I have tried to fake it.
I always fail, and I never fail.
So my resentment for you is alive.
And then,
I look to the corner of my wicked eye,
which forces my hand to judge.
And ****** you.
Hoping one day,
the person you were meant to be resurfaces.
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
Tending to the flocks
Realizing his purpose
Man becomes human
Melody Mann Dec 2022
To settle down and reflect on the months passed,
Relishing memories and moments kept sacred,
Looking inward and healing a child once forgotten,
A year's end to really pause and live,
For self actualization is as complimentary as winter and rain,
A chill flourishing among a fresh becoming; annual.
Paula Sullaj Nov 2016
What  shape do wavelengths of a sudden snap of reality create,
When they scratch me from the peace
of an internal form-
-less diving
?
Apparently that of an "Anti-Christ"  Pyramid
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAX3KY0AxJs
Ris Howie Jan 2014
My fingernails are ***** from the blackness of the graphite coated words
refusing to come to actualization.

My tongue chokes on the half formed sentences
swimming in the back of my throat.

They fill my mouth with a bitterness
coming only with the acidity known to unrequited thoughts.

Physiological markers of one who has simply too much to feel,
the penance for scar tissue of wounds who too quickly "healed."
anastasiad Jun 2016
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Rasha Omer Dec 2013
Well polished shoes
Walking well polished tiles.
It's almost time for the escape.
Yoga.
It's all yoga.            

In the evening, within the cracks
It's the sound of calm
Going against all that you believe in.
Like yoga.

Frantic needles and nonchalance
Reflecting upon your reflections of
Truth
And the myths of self actualization
All in yoga.

Well groomed thoughts
In a well groomed world
Waiting on yoga.

Put your face between your thighs
Wake up to transcribe your lies    
All for yoga.                  
      
Fists uplift your desire
To dance with yoga
Freak with yoga
Get down on your **** knees
And be inhaled by yoga.

Grate your smallest desires
It's just yoga                      
And bite the fat on your thighs
For the love of yoga.
anastasiad Apr 2017
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Filmore Townsend Feb 2016
now's the mistake; another 36thr. another of these
poor decisions, these stiff hands, and a once seventeen year-
old out in soul for remembrance of *******. and self-destruct-
ion. epochs ago to now, and in writ moment,
a loss of speech. isolation of a decade, but not always.
kinda like alonenness, but not always. kinda like the crossing of a des-
ert during multitudinal suns' rising; endless cessation
from night's innate lonesomeness. kinda, but not always, and
kinda breaking out with the freak outs. maybe there's become
a problem. (light's bleeding to the left) perhaps incite
a disconnection. perhaps that is forward by removal --
that all-evasive isolation. (unresponsive, compulsive) just touch
base again, but by this moment, may have slid right on by. grunged
pants, dirt streaks, to that tepid walk home as rains began. mud-
stains, and at least there's a good ******* cup of coffee waiting . .
        (broken thought)
                            when voice rings out,
                   "Cut your ******* hair!" as of feminism,
               always thought to be self-righteous ****;
                (again, breaking)
                   "Words are cheap, and breath is free." narrative
of own thought in anothers' voice. distracted; fatigued;
waking to coffee and toast. butter and jam, of course. realizing -- ever realizing -- that I will break every wine glass I ever own, and I will
leave it broken. avoiding the shards of shattered glass, at least,
until my foot drags the carpet. until my foot leaves inevitable blooded-trail.
and lips to wound, some kiss of peace felt from soul; after lips are no
longer of cheek, or of wound, they sing out for my life.
Always singing for life, when this voice always wails for the
absence of warming weather. And this voice is of perpetual
*******, often and forever repeating priorly stated words -- if only a line
back. If only there weren't this block. Past weeks, the past hours, have
been found .  . a ******* block. this voice is always falling deaf.
It's the first time I feel my heart is whole, unbroken and full

I am proud that I pushed myself for so long, and finally exceeded this glass ceiling that I unconsciously created.

I reached a place of self actualization

A place I thought was made up for traumatized people to aspire to.

I feel that for once my heart is actually mine.

That my heart is home

Home for me not the people that abandoned me.

What a feeling.

I learned my worth

And I feel free

*Thank you.
Third Eye Candy May 2013
" i always wondered if fish drooled ? "  she said... and left it there like a cartoon tumbleweed, caked in glitter and sprite phlegm. she stood across an ocean on an island of outlandish abandonment, where all the mirrors crack.  her passing quakes the stain off her daily betrothal
to a toothless bigot in the land of freedom's end in the hovel of her heart's fall from appointed grace. a place of a thousand cuts and no car. waaaay out in the country of her diminished affections, her eyes could be seen wandering the burnt out villa of her lost love, where she recalls the fairy rings piercing her lips and the trembling of her youth, finding a slow hand to explore the wet *** without peril, soaring with her palm, plastered to a feathered bed in a guest room, in a time-share.
grampa sleep. and bird's nest pitch black.

" i always wondered if fish drooled ? " she said... she slept through it... on to the next disconnect  to get intimate with. she left me there, like a chocolate mint resting on a pillow made of shards of habitual flagellation by candle light and instinct; resting on a bed of nails rusting
in the flood plain of her fondest wish.
she left me there
to conspire with her better demons, to witness - the benign desperation of her frenzied exploration
of actual actualization... to watch her ****** from the jaws of a dire wolf,
her bleeding heart and her ransom.
with her bare teeth and a naked
Truth.

you should have seen her face.

i tattooed her secrets on the iris of a blind ghost, i swore it " abide in her broken heart like an open door with a cool breeze slinking through the fetid air of her self defeat and stale bread bumble bees.
and to abide by her rules
when she finds them... then to ghostly fall
upon his ghost sword by midnight
with a smile that tells hell it cannot claim what rises.
a smile that spat at the devil and pitied his children.
a ghost smile that stole a book from a museum
and never told his other
books why.
Graff1980 May 2015
In her dreams
Hell sings
With the screams
Of the ******
Rivers of fire
Oceans of blood
Pale in comparison
To the true horrors of man
Like war and ****
These ancient Illusions
Dull and delude men
Prey on confusion
And torment
The children
I wish I could make her dreams
Sing
With beautiful things
Not oppression
But compassion
And freedom
Self-actualization
Of her feminine power
So that she could tell
All those red pitchforked fools
To go stew in their own man made up hells
Filmore Townsend May 2016
Three weeks, by now, of
constipated thought; of
hand cramped beyond stretches
of practice. Three weeks spent in attempt of detox. Of mind-numbing lack for inspiration. Mind-numbing words muttered, "I haven't been this ****** up .  ." (in a long time)
Always, ****** the feel-
good of chemical percentages.
Where the green grass grows, is all. Reflecting is all; standing alone
on warming winter sunrise. Slop-
made bed, the corneres left out. Stomach churning, smoking cigarette,
waiting for the coffee to finish.
That good ******* coffee that
held me through the rain.
Another night meant for day,
and this gracious vessel has never
been meagre in following along with the whims of some spongey tissue.
Of letting loose the general acceptance that a brain's attached to spine. 
oh   oh,    oh oh;  that brain'll die
easy some day. Not today, not now,
not but maybe.  (who knows?)
maybe the wrong decision been
made. No questions now;
(after so many cut hands and feet)
they're too small for answers so large.
They promised to level you up
After a six month grind.
Took a ball point pen
kept your eyes on the macguffin.
but there's still rats in the basement
never made enough Rupees
To trade in this wooden sword
no matter how many teeth
or claws you trade in
You're still stuck behind a register
or mopping up XP from the local wildlife's viscera

During your daily quest
turning in the farmers daughter
you noticed a woman promptly positioned in your way.
Some bandits killed her father
and she just stuck around
Until you hit the local tavern
and drank too much whiskey
you ran off to fetch her some pearls
then while digging for CLAMS
You met a pirate man
Who asked you to steal back his map.
while you were finding his buried treasure
you happened to find a letter that
forced you into a coffee shop
and here you sit.

always fell for the macguffin
Now you caught the most obvious one.
Always running around, trading pelts for clues
But they just kept you busy so you never traveled out of town.
if you ever headed out

You'd be slaying more than dragons
there's more than princesses to set free
out here in the big world.
your next quest is self actualization
go Sattle up on that griffin.
and head to the farthest town.
You don't know how to make the gold right now

but if you stay here.
how are you gonna find out?
Teo Mar 2015
“It’s been trying to rain.” My Grandfather said to me over the summer
Not even looking at the bright hot blue sky with very few clouds
As if they each were a living thing, capable of trying to do anything at all

A couple days later, it rained for a few dozen hours straight
Y’know, for a long while now, I’ve felt like I’m finally on the path of self-discovery
That I’m mere inches away from self-actualization
Now, I wish that it would finally come

I’ve been relearning most of the things that I thought I knew
Like how to read and write and think and feel
I’m even learning new lessons
Like how to believe
And be strong
And be calm
Hoping to be wise one day
Like my Grandfather

And on the day he died, it rained all night
The world was weeping, its tears
Were frozen and bitter

I don’t know what to say
But I know now that I can feel because
I can point out the sorrow constantly in my chest
I can taste the burning sensation
Bubbling up the back of my throat

I have never felt this way before
I’m trying to be strong
But realization, it comes in waves
We never got to go fishing again
Never got to grow one more garden in the spring

According to mom, grandpa was my first word
And I’ve found myself speaking a lot more softly than average
Like a lone cloud in the desert when it’s trying to rain

I've been staring into the dark every night thinking of nothing
But when I do think, lately I’ve been thinking of, well
It’s hard to explain, but it feels like that self-actualization
It feels like it’s across some vast, empty part of my soul
And through much, much more pain
But it’s waiting for days later
When hopefully I’ll understand life and death
And my spot in between them both

I know nothing of death
That’s why I’ll always love the music that the river makes
That’s why I’ll always love the feeling of dirt under my nails
And the smell of the air when it’s trying to rain
Cause I know that this is life, life is precious
Life is the most beautiful thing in the universe

Two weeks later and the world is crying bitter cold tears again
And I know in my heart I’ll never feel the same warmth
I’ll never be used to this, everything is changed
My eyes are always trying to rain
But I’m learning something important
Hopefully I'll learn what
The lesson is
Soon
Rip grandpa and grandma
I love you a lot
Can we ever come
to the marvel
terrace
to
forsee
each others beauty

Why do you play
with such an extension
there at the sea
where
Time dances
on a lapse
of a warmest
heart wish

There are little holes
written in the sands
sublime

there
Here
everywhere

Resounding beats
follow thoughts
and float as
reminiscing
letters

Or other way around
among
words

I'm

lost
where there aren't any

Any

'You'
is a Genius
for me

Yet You,
just you, near me
for me
real
enough
possible
potent
actualization

Brahma
Shiva
Shakti­
Love
Dance

A burning bush in a desert of dreams

Serenity
Harmony
Wish you can feel free
Wish you can be free
Wish you can be with
me
wonder male
wander male
on whales
where
one beat meets
beats
in beating

my hands make invisible
waves
parallaxing
through ether

To reach eruptions
the Sun
of Time

Moon ebbs in my mind
i'm swirling away

landing
on a mystic meadow
of your poetic Beauty

Your- Self

Reinforced, thrown
deep into an ever-last toe rings
on an Elephants
translucent
magic foam
of mystery

memories
always fresh
in a Divine Cauldron
of
this unthinkable
Cosmic Conundrum

Calm creatures
Lovely woods
melting
rising
poe
is dead
percussion of our ohm
a constant
pace

slow

tender

Time
4
Love
~
Imagined by
Impeccable Space
Poetic love beat
~
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtb52nB9YmU
~
Universal Thrum Nov 2014
I am going to try speaking some reckless words, and I want you to listen to them recklessly.

Burning Man is an invitation to a collective art experience, similar to that of the Jew’s mass revelation at Sinai, to be converted into little children and enter the gates of heaven together.

In Black Rock City, There is no money, no commercialization, only a gift economy of free cooperation, supported by the radical ethos of self-reliance, self-actualization, and radical inclusion.  

One friend, who happened to live the life of a hobo artist, commented that she felt that burners were paying to experience life as a hobo. I understand the experience as a way to live openly without attachment and give freely without attachment, and as the saying goes, the playa provides.

In Black Rock City, There is no us and them, because as one citizen so aptly put it to me as I thanked him for the gift of some unknown chemical, “We’re all ravers here man.” And We we’re and are all raving mad, dancing to the song of the desert, everything everything everything, yet no one died there, no children were harmed.

Socio-Economic status indicators are less apparent at Black Rock City, dress is both shabby and marvelous, as many are in the hippy Mad Max apocalyptic desert tribal grindhouse gear of their choosing, or naked as the day they were born, covered in dust.  

The happiest man I witnessed, sat naked in full lotus, serenely smiling to himself, dreadlocks draped over his shoulders rocking back and forth at a woman’s wedding where she married her self.  He knew the open secret.

This strikes at the heart of the matter, there in the desert, there is an awareness, that every citizen is in an act of participatory art happening in the now, you may wear your body without shame, without scorn or derision, or even a second glance, you may simply be in all your human glory, in whatever mode of conscious, whatever identity or avatar you choose.

Comfort of touch arises in this open, relaxed atmosphere of non-repression, Hugs are standard greeting, and last a deliciously long time compared to our society. Cathartic emotional release arises, encouraged by freedom from social conditioning, laws, and traditional mores. There is a fervent, accepted development of comradeship, the beautiful, sane affection of man for man, latent in all the young fellows, north south east and west.

Rumi’s quote on Zoroastrian’s wheel reads, “Come, come, whoever you are, Wanderer, idolator, worshipper of fire, even though you have broken your vows, a thousand times, Come, and come yet again. Ours is not a caravan of despair.”

In this living environment of artful community empowerment new social standards arise, more equivalent to private desire, as there is increased ****** illumination, new social codes made manifest that rid us of fear of our own nakedness, rejection of our own body.

This stands in stark contrast to the present condition of life for American Person, which is one of deathly public solitude and mass commercialization.
We’ve built a technological Tower of Babel around ourselves, and are literally reaching into heaven to escape the planet. The stupendous machinery surrounding us conditions our thoughts, feelings, and reinforces our mental slavery to the material universe we’ve invested in, the separation and tension this creates can be felt walking down the street avoiding stranger’s eyes.

I say all this tremendous and dominant play of solely materialist bearings upon current life in the US, with the results already seen, accumulating, and reaching far into the future, that they must either be confronted and met by at least an equally subtle force infusion for purposes of spiritualization, for the pure conscience, for genuine esthetics, and for absolute and primal manliness and womanliness – or else our modern civilization, with all its improvements is in vain, and we are on the road to a destiny, to that of the fabled ******.


How can we Americans make our minds change theme? For unless the theme changes-encrustation of the planet with machinery, inorganic metal smog, violent outrage and mass ****** will take place. We witness these horrors already.

Abruptly then, I will make a first proposal: on one level symbolic, but to be taken as literally as possible, it may shock some and delight others – that everybody who hears my voice, directly or indirectly, try the chemical LSD at least once; every man woman and child American in good health over the age of 14, find a kindly teacher or guru guide and assay their consciousness with LSD – that if necessary, we have a mass emotional nervous breakdown in these States once and for all.  

Then I prophecy, we will all have seen some ray of glory or vastness beyond our conditioned social selves, beyond our government, beyond America even, that will unite us into a peaceable community.  I hope this will be understood not as the solution, but a typical and spiritually revolutionary catalyst, where many varieties of spiritual revolution are necessary to transcend specifically the political Hobbesian cold war we are all involved in.

I would invite you to step away from your rational mind
Seek inner space awareness
May the long time sun shine upon you
And all love surround you, and the pure light within you, shine your way on
I gave this speech as part of a Pecha Kucha presentation at the Columbus Musuem of Art on 11/13/14
Though my brothers starve,
I cannot do a thing,
despite any sacrifice,
no matter my achievement,
in spite of my feelings,
the world continues on,
dysfunctional as always,
always and forever,
the world will never fill with light,
nor will it ever be fully engulfed in darkness,
the only pathway to change is in numbers,
the kind of numbers that cannot be amassed,
a digit so unreasonable I can't help but sigh,
the world would change with the tides,
if not for the human heart,
a fickle mechanism,
it feels superficially for most part,
and ***** greedily at life,
rarely experiencing self-actualization,
if not for the human heart,
morality would decompose,
and rearrange in its purest form.
A.P. Beckstead (2013)
If you find it so offensive
that I don't passively accept the *******
you so zealously defend
with phoney statistics and appeals to irrelevant authority,
perhaps you should try to empathize
with how offensive that ******* may be
to a person who values and respects
individuals' divergent opinions.

Then again, in thy defense,
they don't really seem like thy opinions,
they've just been programmed into thee
from a malleable age
by others
who cannot stand a bit of honest dissent
for the sake of earnest
social and spiritual progress.

You're a proper product of your environment.
Your upbringing is bringing you down.

If you want to overgeneralize
and make less options available
that many have fought so hard to make possible,
go live somewhere where you won't have the freedom to choose for yourself
even if it does tend to be an illusion.

But, I know
you don't want to have fewer choices,
you just want others to have fewer choices.

As a philosopher,
I find that ******* disgusting.
Appalling.
Abhorrent.
Evil, even.

If your school of thought
is said to be so 'holy,'
how can it produce such evil people?
I guess it's *******,
either on the teachers' part,
or on the students' part,
or, not unlikely:
both.

A boat that cannot be rocked
is probably an unsafe boat.

A boat that can take a rocking
is more likely to be seaworthy.

It is worth it to find out which boat you're in
before you're committed to it on the open seas of Life.

(Maybe they put you in the unsafe boat on purpose..)

Thy traditionalism
binds thee to a bygone era
of sexism, feudalism, and prejudice.

If it is thy choice
to sacrifice thy free will and curiosity
to that ages old cult,
I venture to claim that you deserve to,
just don't expect any sympathy
from this devout skeptic;

I rock the boat
not to destroy what's good,
but to try to **** out what isn't healthy.

It's nothing personal,
I'm just fond of Devil's Advocacy
in the face of a straw-man argument.

The only thing more blaring
than the fallacies in your claims
is your blind and willing ignorance.

We all seek comfort,
but allowing your intellect to be usurped
for someone else's benefit
is a self-sacrifice seldom worthy of existing.

Some falsely believe that knowledge brings comfort,
but I know that it is only the willingness to deny such comfort
that makes such comfort attainable.

You aren't comfortable,
you're just shut off from the world.

Have the courage to step outside your own mind,
have the courage to step back from yourself and your ego
even if for just a little while,
and perhaps you shall find
that it was only you holding you back,
all along.

Do not hate:

learn;
forgive;
transcend;
seek to understand.
Grow;
nurture;
live;
love:
before it's too late
to reconcile yourself with your truest self.

Stop being used by your mind
and start utilizing it's potential:
be yourself and become the greatest possible actualization of your Godself.

No philosophy is an enemy,
only One's philosophobia is.
Written to no one and everyone. Especially myself.
Written for no one and everyone. Especially myself.
I hope the good outweighs the bad, as well in myself.

There's a colorful backstory to this, but I don't want to delve into it too much.  One of my friends recently revealed a rather unflattering, extremely closed minded, gender-role enforcing atrocity of a stance on women's rights. What's worse about it is that she's female!

— The End —