"epistemic" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^^^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
{[a parachute of words to soften death
(the impact governed by an ancient rule)]
for falling slower, to allow the gaze to linger
on a beingscape of prophets, sages, and of fools,
to entertain a fantasy, a whim
or a kernal sign of epistemic limn}:
\| /
feline-dolphin friendliness to bring,
to sing of paws and fins, to fashion songs..
cut playful, caring, interspecies lens.
sprouting karmic stems at every step
with toe-gems on a koan-grounded path
on which the memories of art abound--
to measure wrath, to nard with wisdom salves
the holon vast of intra-earthling givenness
and arm the doom'ed nous with lethe-wards:
a Helm of melodies to dim the sound
of nether-chords in taunting reaper's lure;
pantheonic Plate to temper tangent blows
of glowing smoulders, darkest passion throws;
Wings of flame in kind caressing pleasure
licking high incurvate spinal moan... alone...
the tone is sure, for underworldly psalm
and biding sweep of time, aeon after aeon, eternal bone on bone,
in gales of fated nescience, the moment dawns
careening, skirrs my aether-self of lighted
purpose drawn, and telic web of wanings on...
_
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 11:32 PM UTC
Dear Academia;
I took the adderall
because I thought
you wanted me
to be a machine. I didn't
understand that
amphetamine tasted
like candy once you
got used to the way
your jaw locked and your
ears rang. Dear
academia, did you
see my face when you
read my GPA, did
you see the way I stayed
up too late after my
after school activities
trained me to live with
anxieties? Dear academia,
why am I afraid of the mirror?
Why did you teach me how
to write a perfect paper but
never prepared me for
the look in his eye when he told
me he didn't love me either. Dear
academia, i'm ****** off and you're
swallowing me, does the sting
of your impulses feel better
when you know you're eating
my hard earned money?
Dear academia, why
do you give me empty promises? Why
should I spill my blood with
this diploma, list
my ethnicity and birthdate
next to the insignificance
of what you think makes me
worthy, do
these details feed your
impending due dates or
are you just getting off
to the idea that
only the educated few
know how to
think straight? Dear
academia,
I tried my hardest
to let you fool me, I
can feel your ego fattening
beside me as I watch your
children scramble for their
ideas of monetary
gluttony. You're increasing
our wage gaps, do my late night
tears fuel your addiction to epistemic
poverty? Dear academia, you
taught me to think critically. I am on fire
with the matches you forgot
you hatched within
me. Scorpions occasionally
eat their parents and I hate
to admit that this ****
has me hungry.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
Exert life than a void pray,
Gone my obey for: a lied rose,
Under the deep-deep sky, may the sea beneath,
Felt all the existence of died prose.
Identity of expiring beyond, an illusion of soon,
Or the city lights, may the lights of so moon.
And eyes oh eyes of my, heed existence,
Who humane instincts to materialise; to disobey chosen persistence.
I stood the defeat ; as vanished as die,
All hopes, legacy, ideas meaningless; heard I,
I stood by god, to hail nothingness and death,
Thence I tasted sour on the soliloquy of celebrated Macbeth.
For when he says; god is dead,
Its innocence absurd that we are his murderer,
A cynic, anti-foundationalism, epistemic to crave for more and more, oh i read,
For all my beliefs came to bright blur.
Today, when I ask a theory of tree makes sound or not when fallen alone,
Exculpate not, for I myself flown in the most questionable known.
Today, when I ask a theory of Sisyphus as a metaphor on existentialism,
Exculpate not, for I know more than seven colors of old prism.
Learner, me oh my, how I may counter not,
Nihilist not I, neither theory I ever caught.
I choose to choose, to see I see,
So; next when we revel, keep it over a beautiful night of spree.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 5:41 AM UTC
pierces deeper
than a lover's cynic scourge
impaling orifice of epistemic fruits
appalling so to rather choose
a flowing coat of blood,
an existential itch
of ripe,
strawberry scabs
at least here, i can pirouette a shower
over all i think i've done,
attempt to paint the 'seen'
a pinker tint of womb-rose red:
she beats her heart into a blazing whirl
of painblooming over saying and the said.
wheels of joyspeed lose their path
as digging hands, tearing nails
grapple harshly at the roots of hair and other roots;
in the earthy darkening
you've found something...
you have lost all things
you have found love, trapped love
eaten love
expelled love, become love and destroyed love
)))"i love you i love you iloveyouiloveyouiluvuiluviluvui<3ui<3ui<3i<3u<3<3<3"(((
some love was not love, some love was all love,
some love was yours and some was mine, some of
your love was my love, some of yours was all love,
some of mine was yours and some was all. period
some love speaks for some and all,
some for only some,
some for only all,
all love is... part of overcoming fear
all love is- (enter plethora of other meanings here)
all love... Is. period, period, period,
i wretch to define,
to cubicle with verbal caging
your unbridled spheroid knowing,
a patient sonar-esque acceptance
that truth-hunting in the midst of love means: to suffer,
for all who love and seek to know its underside,
to continue ****** clawing in and out,
to shout for answers
like existence never lied.
all love is this/
for some and not for others,
it was this and now it's that:
i think of you, i'm changing,
i feel you, i'm changing,
i'm changing, i feel you are
there, a part of me, some part
of me speaking to all of me,
some poetic voice, some spiritual thing
beyond just 'spirits', 'things',
'meanings',
'sufferings',
'truths',
'hearts',
'blazings'
into different
swirls of wheeling joylists lost into
another us that is,
was and isn't us "forevermore" but finds us here again, unchanged
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 3:14 PM UTC
The frame has blurred away \ Fever death arising like burst glass || mangled spines \ This is the age of fact | where the violent insertion of cancer cells into animals is applauded by scientists across the globe \ Objectivity is the new face of barbarism | death god // sublimating existence for truth \ Raw data filters from the rot of deformed limbs | tweezers crush the heads living fish // guts spill | formaldehyde fixes the flesh of squirming insects | spliced genes splay the spines of mewling mice \ There’s no doubt || biology is the practice of death \ Animals without niches \ Organs without bodies \ Cells without hosts \ An aperture maw | red // yellow // black // white | leaking nervous tissue over an absent whole \ Reality has been atomised // brutalised // banalised \ Objective knowledge replacing all critical thought << [[Muscle // nerve // fat // blood // bone \]] Experience nothing \ [[The germ cell cycles every 28 days \]] Know nothing \ [[The average lifespan of a lab rat is three years \]] Feel nothing \ [[Over one hundred million are killed yearly \]] Science saves \ Biospace severed // prescription drugs fall // epistemic // into clean white bottles \
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 7:10 PM UTC
Ruminating epoché,
‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay.
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay
Initiatives imperative consolidation,
Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
Forecast in vague extrapolation,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging Aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 1:24 AM UTC
I drempt that I flew
And then I knew I'd die young
Above emerald seas I did soar
Salt
I dream and I slither
Among razor obsidian
And on the ash I feast
I am alone
Watching sun slip
Scarlet fury splitting
Old & cyclic
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC
An all-seeing eye of cosmos opened
within me having an epistemic sense of
power. The rain trickled down the oval-shaped
wet window. 'Twasn't a blue eye, yet 'twas bluing.
The blues of the stars
were trickling
out of their core. Over
your tasting part of the tongue full of sensations
about itself, suffering words
struck the silence between us. I could not
comprehend their sense- their meaning
sank in the sadness of the rain.
The blues were absorbed by this rising dreariness.
I couldn't see you. Nor could I
achieve the tranquility of mind. However,
I might presume that God might see this.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
What is it to be loved?
What is it to be alone?
Epistemic ambivalence.
How many rocks are being thrown?
What is truth?
And is it a secret?
Your true natures apples
Or your artificial peaches?
Through a true friends eyes
A true friend sighs.
The knot of a true friends ties.
A true friend, why?
Cynical much?
Its not enough.
I love ALL so deep
that I hate my guts.
What am i saying?
I better start praying..
But to who?
The big picture I keep reframing.
Oh well nevermind
The bright light..
And rusted mind.
Memories lost, to be regained.
Absent feelings forever remained.
In the void of time we cut the line,
I would explain but i cant rewind..
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
Ruminating epoché,
‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay.
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay
Initiatives imperative consolidation,
Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
Forecast in vague extrapolation,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
i left the spigot dripping last night
and now the whole home is submerged —
archipelagic scraps of tatterdemalion
things line the floor like dead bodies
and poesy atrocities. but i have not
in mind, this disfiguring lament.
1 Take for example, a fine line
darting towards your *******
2 And bend it towards the direction
of genealogy or analogue fire
3 Henceforth commend contention
and differentiate beyond hapless
extensions of body to body
mirror to mirror
4 Where all axioms define the universe
and there is an epistemic
afterthought looming past the
arithmetic of things such is that
of a steady punctuation mid-birth
5 Take the corporeal and eat Suns,
thrash the Moon like how a bed
is meant to be whacked by the
spanked edge
6 Cold resuscitates flame and flares
congeal all frigidity — or at least
arbitrarily, remember it by whim
caprice and then fade out
7 As misery clots in the same vein
pulsing with different blood
which we shall ensconce with
laughter — a drunken hilarity
8 And then oppose the dictum
that forced us to the point
of recalcitrance, rousing hungered
heat with memory of waking ice
9 Recount what I said about
such opposites complementing
each other in precise farce
10 In this exact exhibition faint
upon recollections — going far
inverse to poles only tells another
distance covered by wide strides
and a place nearly forgotten
rekindled by newer ones.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 5:47 AM UTC
Somewhere across the
Noise.
Someone died
And I was glad-
it-
Wasn't
Me.
I have shallow
Empathy
And don't mourn
My losses.
They lived
Longer
Than I ever
Wanted
To.
Still. I
Persist
In this miserable
Monotony.
Lucky,
Epistemic luck,
I don't think
I know you?
Jul 1, 2025
Jul 1, 2025 at 1:00 AM UTC
⸎⟆⥉⦕⫯⟴ Ode to the Count De St. Germaine ⸎⟆
Dearest Count,
I know you watch and listen.
It is through you I set sail upon this ship of thoughts
To you, to whom, I christen.
These polysemic effulgence do, alas, waxen, wane,
but seldom in vain.
In antediluvian silence drawn,
manifests in hyperborean dearth
a logos, sir in autochthonous rebirth.
Their, hierophantic murmurs will obfuscate,
the omphalos of matter, still inchoate,
where perichoresis in vertiginous tide
the fractal that doth assuredly bide.
A palimpsest of null embrace
where these false augurs drink from hollowed urns,
and time itself forgets to turn.
Perfidious orisons, whisper-thin,
in circumflected aeons spin,
converging on the cusp of naught,
where paradigms in silence rot.
A chrysalis of paradox,
enshrouds the fey, unbridled clocks,
that chime in fugue, then dissipate
beyond the hinge of latent fate...
The pericombobulatory grand design
deliquesces in auctorial decline!
(Syncretic palingenesis unspools,
within the aether’s epistemic pools,
a syzygetic parallax unweaves
the thaumaturgic spoor that time bereaves.)
For naught but vacuous profundities remain,
a simulacrum of the arcane mundane,
where in sesquipedalian grandeur lies
a syllogism clad in grandiloquent guise.
Ouroboric concatenations of antinomian design,
circumvolute within paracryptic paradigms malign,
as obmutescent theogonic vestiges coalesce
in the eidetic zymurgy of aphasic largesse.
Metagnostic palimpsests, fracto-linear and obtuse,
catachrestically wane in hyperchromatic profuse,
whilst locutions, effulgent yet contrite,
obumbrate the paramorphic tautology of night.
A transcendental abecedarium, paralogical and vast,
consanguineous with the inexorable umbrage
of our shared Jungian past,
germinates within the syntagmatic—
Ever relaxed or ecstatic,
Coalesced to pragmatic,
Lugubriously emphatic.
Within this hypostatized ratiocinative mire,
where sophronistic axiom and non-being conspire,
one finds but an echolalic, chimerical gleam,
an ontosemantic palinode to the dream.
The Archetype realized.
The Alchemist mystically re-materialized.
Count, oh Count.
"Wherefore art thou," indeed,
in this : our time of greatest need.
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 4:23 PM UTC
I'm not sleepy, and there ai
n't no place
I'm going to, this is it now, … then I come again, return,
interrupting my self with crosscurrents,
these are those
riptides in opposing forces shifting
enemies
to good fellow earthling survivors, spinning in the system,
pole to pole and back
never the same river twice,
but always the pattern,
meandering,
serpentine, path of least resisting
we know we are of the samesame value,
goodwise. truewise freemade with a will
to live in happy, the state of mind,
ever after all of that…
from now on
whatever ever changes, we are
in the mix,
this is id est time-ated, tict to
silent breathing commas,
in our mutual mind space
aloud
at any given instant
or moment, moment
works instant in season
out of season,
how did you make sense of that?
This way, right.
I knew at the moment then it was past,
this is ever after, never the same,
fluid-ity enticed to artifice interfaces,
knows to gnose, epistemic tehkne
sci-psy-psi
with use, knowing takes on a second nature,
less guessing, let the cloud calculate the tip, wait
what is this tip, this social debt, I owe the server?
Stupid question, certain
impulses
urge me to declare, look it up, but you know,
if you were the server,
you know…
if you were the aimer,
you know,
if you were the trigger, you wait
to be the joke that starts the whole world laughing.
------
Survival of the we-ity bits of wits,
was we an effort
to imagine?
We, the idea. Who imagined that?
I could not form an image,
imagine, yes
form, in form fit an
i-dea
ology **** where did she come from,
wait, is she the mother of all living?
who told this story, after whatever
resulted in now,
when we know, we all are related,
matrilineally,
mom-wise,
...?
if we were to reason, for a moment,
of the expansive sort, see
without the knack for vision my
people
perish. So seeing eyes and hearing ears,
goodsense forethought, backup
senses
great ideas in the ongoing perfection
of ever after,
post Disney ification of the servant corp,
and creds to Berners-Lee and the CERN
concern for how ideas may
evolve from necessity inventing
Frank Zappa in time to fix Romania's budget.
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 1:47 AM UTC