"categorisation" poems
before existentialism, and nietzsche in mind, philosophy was written
or spoken of accepting the socratic rigidity of words,
the rigidity of words known through
the socratic method of inquiry:
the simplest of questions imposed on
the meaning of words; e.g. what is virtue?
but with existentialism this old method
of inquiry, the poised posing bewilderment
lost its quality, in that the new method of
inquiry was given to stress not a method
of questioning but that of ambiguity,
even though this new method that simply
said the reverse of what is virtue as
the preservation of a narrative: "virtue" concedes
many variations exampled true, e.g. -
this dittoing going against - previously said /
as above - became staged against
a brick wall - since this method, the existential
method of brushing aside inquiry and entering
the realm of ambiguity was already present -
the pluralism of meaning found in certain words;
it isn't a question whether red or blue can
be ambiguous, this allocation of noun
and quality is all too pervasive - so when
an ambiguity is allowed to exercise its stressor
posit - the word in question is allocated
a verb orientation in its exercise of use and example,
further diluted by the quantity and lack of example,
and ascribed contorting
adjectivity due to the dilution of meaning: with lessened
recognition of sought out qualification to sentence
an enzymic perfection of: banker and philanthropist,
priest and maximilian kolbe, poetry and lack of envy.
even though these examples are idealistic,
they provide the obvious ambiguity already apparent,
hence the double ambiguity of opposites, ideal opposites.
in shorthand - if socrates were to come
upon reading existentialism - his questions
regarding the virtues would be bound to free floating
terms in the ditto bubbles of flimsiness of non-inquiry -
bewildered by the number of prompts to question,
there would be no necessary ambiguity to many other
terms of inactivity - such as the previously mentioned
red and blue, dog and glue, but too many, it would seem,
should a strict belief in categorising virtue as a noun
but not a verb be kept - for categorisation of such nature
only provides a linear cascade without due action
or cared for imitation - ending with the only chance of virtue
chanced and seen as an unvirtuous person
doing crossword puzzles in silence - and already
virtue's opposite is engaged in defending itself
and justifying its ills by first forcing many synonyms to
cover it in ambiguity, and asserting itself as an adjective
within a noun framework blunt: virtue v. unvirtuous
will only confiscate siamese phonetic mingling to ease the definition;
i guess that's how rhyming was born, the opposite
of alphabetical ordering: a, aardvark the violet's blue
****** a doughnut with you.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
i found two things bewildering,
alzheimer's attacks the pronoun
category, and other forms of it too,
but modern psychiatry
having abolished asylums for
a humane revision of its practice
has become a branch of medicine
that over-prescribes nouns,
and by such over-prescription
invents noun jargon,
it cut open an ancient greek word,
used the prefix (overly) and added a suffix (sufficiently)
to make no sense whatsoever,
it prescribes neonouns like it prescribes
pills that don't work... or if working
then in a negative way... anti-psychotics
can make you **** yourself in your bed
when sleeping, i've been drinking for some
time, and my bladder is arnold schwarzenegger,
when i used to be on anti-psychotics for
no adequate reason (living in a post-colonial
society does that to you, you can come from
lithuania or poland and be treated like a
would-be coloniser to extract the fastest
sprinters for a new country, without the "doctors"
treating you adequately),
so as i said: alzheimer's attacks the pronouns,
the iron core of the earth that's an individual
thus dislodging all the adequate orientations
of categorisations of words... like psychiatry
abuses the noun category: schizoid, schizo-affective,
plain dumb schizophrenic... bi-polar, uni-polar,
plain dumb depressed... psychiatry has long
established a monopoly on nouns...
i just use their terminology to excavate a new
grammatical categorisation of words,
from poetry, among nouns adjectives pronouns
and conjunctions... you'll find psychiatry nicely suited
and booted as a word categorisation: metaphor:
all psychiatric diagnostics should be categorised as
metaphorical... 'cos they name it... but have no idea
as to how to behave behind it: it's not like they
say cancer and you're expected to die...
you're expected to live in their terminology
of treating you for a ******* pay-cheque:
you won't even commit a crime, but they'll
treat you like a criminal... so long suckers...
i mean western europeans, i rather live in (as the
americans say) i-raq... and shoot a bunch of you
protected by what i see as the final solution
you thought was once church v. state...
how about segregating democracy (the church)
from bureaucracy (the state)... but of course
the two are mutually dependent.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 7:19 PM UTC
*to be in want of writing philosophy without
atypical philosophical words,
analogous of logic, or logos,
like phenomenology, archaeology, ontology,
metaphysics.... and instead dig into
grammatical categorisation of words,
and use grammatical denoting words
rather than philosophically exclusive words
as exampled thus stated.*
breakfast for champions...
that's 20cl of whiskey with coke,
and after
raw herring in sour cream sauce
witch apples and cucumber pickles,
that piquant pinch of it all,
a little bun...
and tomato juice salted & peppered,
eaten while standing up.
honestly raw herrings and tomato
juice drank was the biggest innovation
i've yet to claim in the culinary realm.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 9:54 AM UTC
*you never really say piranha.... it’s more like piraña... no wonder english without the necessary diacritic spans north america and australia and the emoji platform, so the romans said: bonum, sed ν (nu) *** linea obliqus, sic ha est ad hoc tetragrammaton pars, et allah est la la; quamvis latin est mort scriptio autem non clara voce - basically just write some latin using english grammar, what’s beneath it? guess.*
i’ve written almost 10,000 poems and still i can only
remember having said one or two memorable things,
i mean, for god’s sake, the pedigree maine ****
that lived with me for the 7 years he lived to
dying of kidney failure said more memorable things
than i did, having only said meow / miał (i.e. he had it, once),
maybe that’s because i don’t actually cradle these outbursts
to much appreciation, hence my own worthy critique -
but like i said it once admiring spiderweb threads and the washing lines:
by the casual phrasing ‘killing time,’ i’m sure people invoke
the meaning: to occupy a definite space;
the antonym? that’s a bit what philosophy preaches - ‘to stand outside
all of time and space,’ well the first one i can do and feel remorseful
concerning boredom, but that gives me an indefinite space,
although this whole ‘killing time’ is a great option, i’m going to
schwarzenegger time with a sawn off umlaut, ooh... kick to the groins
watch the crouching tiger hidden *** change - and occupy
a definite space. see, you have to find the hammers and the chainsaws in language
to escape the waterfall of fictional narration, obviously grammatical
categorisation of words makes it easier to suddenly realise:
am i really typing, or actually hammering a word in?
but realising that grammatical categorisation of words
exposes unlikely-to-turn-rusty tools gives writing a whole worth
of sanity, as no longer the chance encounter, but a safe environment
to abseil like a spider which lost the plot of creativity famed by the cobweb, just ******** out a piet mondrian.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC
Lengthy explanations
for simple altercations
Wordy answers
for the easiest classes
Yet none mean anything
None hold much meaning
Just memorisation
and categorisation
Life goes down the drain
as we watch the rain
Essays about love
fly away like doves
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
the only book you can plagiarise from is the dictionary; enter plagiarism: platonic definitions of a single sound.
spa spa spawn a spandex bubble on the rims for elongating width
in french inches of the waist.
but i liked my walk, took the scenic: empty street, night, solo,
solo, night, empty street -
not many donkeys sweating tears -
not many relations to see: i understand money in
the manual labour professions, but outside
of manual professions? don't have a clue... have a poker though
for a ***** you randomise whatever you want in that:
never read a philosophy book that utilised grammatical categorisation
efficiently: aristotle started it all off with nouns (proper names),
naming and layering as i might call it:
but who the hell needs plato these days given television:
oh right, that's why: shout into a cave the worded nuance...
what do you get? ecce echo.
i appreciate god as an omni-relevant vocabulary / shouting into plato's cave
provided me with thus:
noun, plural i's or is, i's or is.
1. the ninth letter of the english alphabet, a vowel.
2. any spoken sound represented by the letter i or i, as in big, nice, orski.
3. something having the shape of an i (floating head on a total amputee).
4. a written or printed representation of the letter (sound) i or i.
5. a device, as a printer's type, for reproducing the letter i or i.
well so much for those paper folding idiots of shadow:
i shout i into plato's cave the idiots are still talking in sign language
having been fed images throughout and no phonetic symbols
of breaking knuckles.
pronoun, nominative i, possessive my or mine, objective me;
plural nominative we, possessive our or ours, objective us.
1. the nominative singular pronoun, used by a speaker in referring to himself or herself.
noun, plural i's.
2. (used to denote the narrator of a literary work written in the first person singular).
3. metaphysics. the ego.
that's many more echoes to come - plato was ridiculous counting
six fingers on the shadow hand doing all the masturbatory
talking into rabbit population truths in australia.
oh **** i just shouted red into plato's cave and i heard synonymity come out!
what's crimson? words with many meanings have rats in the armpits of armchairs,
those eager dental riggers of bucktooth chew
made fudge into glue within dental analysis conclusive in lance stance
of a knight in rusty armour wishing it was oiled up copper.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
want to become an artist? get ready for poverty, and get ready to feel uncomfortable writing personae, where no form of narration will give you a good night's sleep, esp. "first person" narration; get ready for many contradictory revelations, and the rudest form of mockery: ridicule. get ready for the lynch mobs of the digital age of frustrated writers who, frustrated, antagonise; get ready to realise that poetry, compared to other mediums of writing is only the bare minimum, the sheer nakedness of it, the bare minimum.
i find it most peculiar that a once
mighty and budding colonial nation,
nay, nation expanded into
a colonial empire, should suddenly
implode and craft a mini-commonwealth
inside its boarders, and become
so blind with self-righteousness
as a means to erase the past, and see
itself as a champion of all kinds of freedoms,
of all kinds of necessary obligations
to provide the epitomes of human dignity,
as to not offend / provoke, all stiff-upper-lip
hush hush, to see the monochromatic
audiences at large stadium concerts no
later than mid-nineties: but what the hell
do i know, i'm just a plumber, a plumber
to the mammoth economic class of england
like in the olden days of marx and engels.
i'd change the anthem though:
poland a cinder after the raging flames of
prussia austria and russia - dictated our
extinction - a cinderella of europe -
and for its once proud ally - now a game
of blame when unified for the mini-commonwealth;
or as the irish say so well established in this
land, and esp. after the good friday treaty:
integrate little cinderella boy, integrate,
learn the language, and customs too, but afterwards
return to your people, and live in our
great multi-cultural society, under our
former masters' brow, in a segregated multi-cultural
society of the many death circle pockets,
live by all means, but do not be relevant with
us or our masters on a friendship base.
come the days when neighbour is no longer a neighbour,
should a neighbour be the least of a borrowed
cup of sugar, or anything of such -
the tinniest categorisation of aid.
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 5:52 AM UTC
*my interests in / with philosophy are grammatical,
" " " / " theology " linguistic.*
as philosophy did not entice grammatical words to express it,
as philosophy did not entice grammatical words to be utilised,
so thus the study of language became distinct
from philosophy, with only english or german or italian
teachers using these words as a forgivable badge of honour,
but what if a philosopher decided to "steal" these words and use
them, what then? it would be secondary, to have learned
a language in order to progress to the second tier of language
and erase colloquial truths, idiosyncratic truths, etc.,
those maxims that never really matter, but find me one philosophy
book that deals with words rather than ideas by submerging
itself in ideas and theories not of the world, not political,
metaphysical, theological... but simply grammatical... as to why
the pronouns clash when used as the universal stipend of question:
who, how, when, what if, etc. it's a minefield of considerations,
categorisation of words to only craft learned plagiarisms
of the pulpit, that such rigidity in grammatical classification
of words is so aged ashen leaky and rickety and sir sneeringly sneaky
as to be disregarded by philosophy is a gaping black gravity vortex
of travesties. how do i write you ask, with what ease
and with what machinery of split second bullet fire (sometimes)?
i simply declassified certain words, rearranged their
grammatical classification, some permanently, some impermanently;
such is this curse of the orthodox theory of language,
this ungrammatical denotative classification,
before the sun or the moon can be a subject for a poem
or some other form of inspiration, it's firstly a subject for nouns;
oh i believe in grammar, but not how it's organised
for the sole purpose of schooling, the odd jack-in-the-box popup
lightning slosh of um um ah when the teacher labours momentarily to
utilise grammatical words to explain a bewilderment without
actually explaining anything other than the classification coupling
obvious(ness) in a poem... esp. one beginning with a conjunction such as and.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
that’s genius! honestly,
we killed apache and aztec tribalism off
with money,
by said: copper signatured elizabeth ii
is worth more than gold signatured john...
there was never a second given
the magna carta...
only the individual will to will survives...
to get the biological categorisation treatment
is really horrid, morbid to resurrect death even;
otherwise it's all heidegger as:
only the individual will to be survives...
which really does but really doesn't appropriate
humanity, given there's no given example -
although ideally it's all maple syrop & pancakes dandy.
i hate the english intellectual output,
it’s so finite, so fascinated with post-anglo-saxon gore.
nonetheless...
copper worth more than gold
just, just because it had elizabeth ii written on it
as the unrighteous owner of copper?!
i dare say i will complain with a jacobite plot
to plough fireworks in parliament.
i guess it does translate as kingdom in nothern ireland:
bow and **** the kind m’lord;
i’ll write you a *********** of reality you wish you could have seen:
just so you could satiate your necessity of writing fiction...
because in terms of reality and writing fiction...
you haven’t seen enough of the first.
so you do the next best thing equated with western democracy...
you hide me.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC
it terms of orchestration, wiring latin to english using the latins' alphabet, and advocating a different movement of the knight to the queen in placement, biased on the chequers given the |, it might be that in latin the grammatician would say postponed words were designated the categorisation of adjective if trafficked purely on the right... but in english interpretation of latin, with the surviving alphabet... and the missing burnt out eyes of balthazar seeing written hebrew like king chalres iii seeing cyryllic... what if... what if in terms of | alice decided, through the mirror, that adjectives became nouns and nouns took on the noumenon form of being omni-grammatical in terms of allowances of usage to trans / to transverse?
this is how sophistry happens on the “sly:”
the crusades... eh eh eh... em em em...i i i i...
such eloquence for the proper elocutions
before the world actually revolved...
it’s called the onomatopoeia of thought...
it should sound like it’s scripted...
but it’s not scripted...
instead it’s a scarred thought that might have
sounded an octave above the mezzo;
well... at least both of us sung the song...
whatever medium was discriminated at less
whether that be kareoke
(the japanese word for mime) or poetry;
anyway... i learned to stutter and think of
toes like twinkle twikle litter star... how i wonder
what you could articulate with einstein cracking the nursery rhyme
for an equation that dazzled everyone
in the symphonium of ceaceless ahs and sighs
before red october
revolved into the futures of the november
revolution of '89 /
grey november they called it...
they gave us treaties for the autobahn in colour...
and it turned out to mingle the echo black and the voiced
white... in a medium that only desired quies genesis.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
Black Friday sales and Christmas deals;
Hot on the next bargain’s trail,
Itching to fill the void the heart feels.
Transactions and agreements,
Trappings, false achievements.
Welcome to the era of the shopping mall;
This is where your dreams hop off to die,
This is their final port of call.
Everything and everyone is a commodity;
Barcoded, plastic-wrapped merchandise,
Categorisation for you and your progeny.
If money doesn’t germinate from its seed,
If it does not clothe and feed,
Then it is not something we need.
We are a philistine’s wet dream.
We strive to achieve the American scheme;
Delusional and overworked, about to scream,
Believing all of us can be billionaires forever,
As the planet grows hungry and lean.
Or, believing some deserve yachts and limousines,
That some should starve,
Whilst others gorge themselves on fine cuisines.
Believing that society should be divided in layers,
Assuaging our guilt with thoughts and prayers,
When instead, we could have just refrained from leaving others behind.
When everything becomes a commodity,
Art for the sake of making it becomes an oddity.
Poets retire their pens,
And painters put down their brushes -
Apathy and despair fog the lands,
Like irradiated wind corrupting everything it touches.
Singers go quiet, actors go numb;
Musicians will riot, orators will be struck dumb.
When our own turn on us, tell us to get “a real job”,
When “job creators” are done calling us “lazy slobs”,
None of us will be around to point out the irony.
We will go extinct, a dying breed, finally gone;
Life will be succinct, the greedy will have won.
Slay your kings and queens, or remain a pawn.
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC
italicising words sometimes act like punctuation marks, or simply an emphasis used or missing, to involve punctuation, even i loose the plot upon rereading because of this rubric of unsaid laws of writing.
for all of kant's efforts
to create the categorical imperative,
i haven't read a single
book of philosophy that
stated the only categorical imperative
of whatever narration
under the sun, with the odd
balancing act referring to grammatical
words of categorisation,
whereby you didn't care much
about how moral your activity was,
but how moral your expression
of neither moral nor immoral your
activity could be;
immoral expression of the same circumstance?
oh, like modern journalistic censorship
of f**k ****** it all to hell, hmm?
that's about it.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC
ᛇ: what a strange grapheme,
and indeed what strange geometric encoding:
such kindred of ᛋ:
now find me the bending crux or
the blood eagle at which point the skeleton
aids a breaking point to aid a pelvic existence.
such the obscurity, rattling the sound
Łamong as deviating all grammatical categorisation
and encouraging onomatopoeia suggestion
among nouns and verb... although without
a clear resembling knock knock similitude;
closest approximate: a breaking of a branch
not intended for firewood but intended for a staff:
a pacified sign of the cross executed
in chiral revision: forehead, chest, left shoulder,
right shoulder, amen clasp.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 9:37 PM UTC
that’s the great thing about modern celebrity culture,
you’ll never be as famous as a door, or a tree
in the populist usage of words,
you're antagonising common usage,
you can try as hard as you can
but that monkey face
will neither
show a smile or a sign of anxiety,
you will still not be more luxurious
no more “popular” when oak summoned autumn
and oak leaf fallen a ****** buttocks in paris tamed.
i mean some nouns will remain in the everyday
use, but some nouns will be fake for a bit
before fading away to endear the river once more
with thought;
but like me, the tree will remain a tree,
a stone a stone,
and the un-lived but loved and the un-loved but lived
will be the secure remnant of grammar
that didn't pay its taxes;
so george washington iii lost his head and asked
if there was vietnam.
believe me, i said the word harpoon more than a politician’s surname,
and it made sense to animate universals and inanimate particulars
to claim at least a revelled in assortment of the least.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
In this cold hard chair
Uncomfortable
While I felt my bottoms pressed on it
You raised your hand
Offering me the gift of
Conversation
Like a present
I unwrapped it
Slowly
Carefully
Keeping the packaging unviolated
Every word rings
Like a music note that knows no rest
Every rest
Feels like an extension
Of a string that connects
One from another
Your eyes
I indulge
As we exchange glances
Words fall on deaf ears
I am all eyes
For this feeling
Falls under no categorisation
Maybe this is
Unambiguously
Unaltered love
I thank you
I love you
I thank you
I love you
Jun 16, 2020
Jun 16, 2020 at 9:57 AM UTC