until they tell you
that the prosthetic limbs
they run on,
can cost you a fortune...
boy racer in a ford
escort,
or what is otherwise
a pair of crutches
and a woodpecker
honing device...
or a carbon fibre
lambhorgini cybornetic
cogitans-extensa
"thing" dualism
id est: indistinguishsble...
the lepers will eat
the lepers,
while
the rest of us will shuffle
down the aisles
of the healthy, mundane,
grey bulging en masse
demographics,
someday wishing for
a gravestone,
or at least, a return /
revival of the pagan charm
of the ongoing Hinduistic
cremation rite...
which:
from the cradle,
snatched from the grave,
and onto the conveyor belt
to save the greenbelt
industrial choking
senile, antithesis of
a once overpowering
aphrodisiac...
lucky are those,
who come to the dissection
table of a medical school,
or the coroners'
taj mahal slab of inquiry,
less ceremonial,
yet hardly shy...
at least the dead
speak the tongue of the living,
with living who speak
of the dead, in such detail...
even among those maimed...
some pivot on pinoccios,
others on Charon
limbs... a mind past the flesh,
animating bone...
no other way, it would seem,
to craft an exoskeleton formula
to an otherwise endoskeletal
"missing umbrella"...
coordination of insect
colonies...
only at the fingertips
can the brain touch
its "antithesis"...
elsewhere,
only in muscles a numbing...
unbelievable how
Descartes is more relevant
than ever...
past the cute, Mr. Cogito
sequence of Zbigniew Herbert:
impossible to think,
these days,
since man in his technological
advancement has become
more and more res extensa
(extended thing) than
res cogitans (thinking thing),
which is best captured by
the slogan: easily offended...
namely the missing cushion
of thought...
by an large, usurped by man's
advances in the res extensa
branch of being...
summary: coordination
of traffic, within the confines of
both the regulation of traffic on
pavement and trans-pavement,
compared to motor way regulations,
split-coordinate remainder
of driving a vehicles
and using a mobile device...
ergo sum
is virtually non existent in
reformulating Descartes,
since, as already stated
(in that, typical of philosophy books
style of narrative, id est: tickling
ridicule)...
man is less a thinking thing,
and more an extended thing,
consecrated on the altar of
lost limbs in the a priori mind of
the endoskeleton, and the regained limbs
in the a posteriori mind of
the exoskeleton...
after all, mobile phones do not
need copper wires...
wireless C U 2;
and they'll say, stale books of philosophy
and drinking alone,
are a waste of writing
a good bookmark,
in between overcoming
a tedius volume 1. of a historical
novel... from a region of Europe,
that woken from beneath
Iron... looks upon...
less a valley, and more another,
this time, Si curtain.
they always want socialists from
places where 20th century socialism
failed...
odd, but not that odd...
people just want to commit to
hindsight, in that:
the easy way out,
2nd tier, of the same, mistakes.