"hegel" poems
“The essence of reality is contradiction”
- Hegel
Ang tao ay likas na malaya, nabubuhay na malaya at dapat na maging malaya. Walang karapatan ang sinoman na mang-alipin. Hindi tayo pag-aari ninoman at walang taong ‘pweding umangkin sa kapwa n’ya. Ito ang batas ng kalikasan at ng uniberso. Walang panginoon at busabos, walang dapat na nag-uutos, at wala dapat mga alilang tagasunod. Sana ang buhay ay puro na lang Rosas at walang posas.
Subalit nagdilim ang kasaysayan nang maghari ang kasakiman na pinukaw ng matinding paghahangad ng iilan sa kayamanan. Kailangan na makakuha ng maraming kalakal nang lumawak ang merkado. Pero teka sino ang gagawa nito? Edi kunin ang mga mahihina at gawin silang mga alipin, pilitin na magtrabaho sa ilalim nang hagupit ng latigo. Hawakan sa leeg o di kaya naman ay kitilin, sa ganitong paraan sila dapat na pasunurin.
Tanang pagmamalabis ay may wakas. Hindi lang si Spartacus ang nag-alsa kundi pati ang mga itim na alipin. Sumiklab ang himagsikan sa paghahangad ng mga alipin na kumawala sa kanikanilang mga tanikala.
Dumating ang panahon ng Piyudalismo, nagbagong anyo lang ang halimaw at muli n’yang inalipin ang mga kapos-palad at mahihirap. Nangibabaw ang Aristokrasya na parang maitim na ulap na lumalambong sa himpapawid kaya hindi makita ang sinag ng araw. Salamat na lang at bumagsak ang Bastille at nagtagumpay ang rebolusyong Pranses.
Mula sa mga guho ng lipunang piyudal ay lumitaw ang mga bagong panginoon, ang mga Burgis. Sila ang mapagsamanta at naghaharing-uri sa ating panahon. Mga kapitalista, elitista at mga burgesya komprador.
At tayo na nasa baba, tayo na ang puhunan para mabuhay ay dugo’t pawis, tayo na mga proletaryo ang s’yang makabagong alipin. Mga alipin ng burgesya na ating pinapanginoon, tayo na lumilikha ng yaman ng bansa ang s’yang laging pinagsasamantalahan at binubusabos. Tinatakot na gugutomin kapagka hindi nagpa-ubaya at sumunod sa utos.
Habang tumatagal ay tumitindi ang mga salungatan at kontradiksyon sa pagitan ng mayaman at ng mahirap. Bulkan ito na sasabog sa bandang huli.
Ang batas ng kasaysayan ang nagsabi na ang lahat ng uri ng pang-aapi ay magwawakas. Nag-alsa ang mga alipin, naghimagsik ang mga pesante hindi magtatagal gustuhin man natin o hindi titindig ang mga proletaryo at sama-sama nilang ibabagsak ang kapitalismo na itinataguyod ng mga burgesya komprador.
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 1:25 AM UTC
Accountants hover over the earth like helicopters,
Dropping bits of paper engraved with Hegel's name.
Badgers carry the papers on their fur
To their den, where the entire family dies in the night.
A chorus girl stands for hours behind her curtains
Looking out at the street.
In a window of a trucking service
There is a branch painted white.
A stuffed baby alligator grips that branch tightly
To keep away from the dry leaves on the floor.
The honeycomb at night has strange dreams:
Small black trains going round and round--
Old warships drowning in the raindrop.
8.9k
Pharaoh Tutankhamun graced the Egyptian throne,
A ***** brisk and spry.
From his majestical hands, dangled a scepter
And on his handsome head, sat a crown.
His empire was at its peak
For he wielded influence all over africa.
The bearded Europeans and nubianS sought his protection
For egypt, was a haven.
So organised was the land:
Amun-re and maat protected the people,
The country grew with the help of viziers.
Agriculture was a noble profession in the land,
As her economic markets were the best in the world
Egypt gave light to Greece and Mesopotamia
For her civilisation altered many a life.
And also, was the birth place of man
Such, was the land of egypt
The middle ages stroke and Europe went to sleep
But mama africa gave birth to many strong children:
Ghana, Mali, Songhai and many more
These children shoke the world with their riches and organisation.
Such was the history that africa recorded before they came.
Fredriech Hegel in want of speech said:
“Africa never had a history before the whites came.”
Such a mediocre declaration from an illiterate
For in place of his brain, graced a kidney.
Africa was well civilised before the bearded people came:
We had a religion
We had education as seen in egypt
We had a well organised system in all aspects.
We had everything needed for prosperity,
We attracted them with our gold, thus they came.
But most of all, we believed in equality.
Such was africa before they came
But when the bearded people came,
They altered our ways and put us in stocks
Then said: “we had no history.”
Oblivious that africa had made history,
BEFORE
AND BEFORE
THE
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 7:39 AM UTC
across the pond,
I lived off the diet of
some 55 year old bachelor
racing towards the past
only, I looked forward to
so much more than
my mother's improved health.
I would find books and read them
laying them vulnerable and bare
to my devouring mind. *(I swear
to god, there's an approachable
Minotaur among my grey matter.)*
I skipped Barcelona with an alcoholic
to research gay fascists and history's
slaughter benches. I hand-wrote that paper
just so I could feel something at work besides
strong coffee and false anxieties about projected moments.
I raised my hand, countless times
in foreign classes with tobacco residue
creased to my sheet paper. While others
slept or day-dreamed about the pigeon **** outside
*but I smiled at the professor, & mommy and daddy sent them
capitalist notes with the appearance of life.*
I met a girl, who got to know me through
all five senses, at once. Speaking more languages
than half this world is aware of, I danced til my flight
departed and I knew which city was my favorite, because
I knew nothing of it going in and having no expectations
opens me like an oyster whose made multiple pearls.
I lost my scarf there, in Italy,
a beautiful one with conversational brilliance
falling to disappearance on my final night, after the rains
of Tuscany had drenched away my need for movement
and the winds of Ventotene had me sailing with
men, I knew nothing of. *After I cried on the floor
over the beauty of Hegel and Marx and fell into
Nebulae of epiphanies.*
across the pond, my life had verve.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
We celebrate Juneteenth as if the war was not still being fought
Across news stations and echoes of Jefferson's dreams
The last slaves freed, but this country was never
Reconstructed, just patched up just replaced
Chains with debt, a Theseus ship of spoils pulled
From the wreckage of **** And I sit the echoes
of police sirens slung like clubs across the backs of the
Boys that sat in my classroom and wondered
Why every white person they met always had
To yell so much. As if there was nothing at all
to be exchanged besides recreating Hegel’s dialectic.
As if the only way to win was in blood. And perhaps
That is what Juneteenth really teaches us, that blood
Shed long enough will lead to ghosts, whispered
Warnings we ignore. As if a million bodies buried across
The South was not enough of a reminder that we needed
To **** to have the enslaved seen as people. We celebrate the
Day we no longer had to bury bayonets in bodies
To treat humans as humans. And they still can't see it.
Don’t realize that if you take away the last plate of food,
That if you turn off the power, that if the dollar can't fill the tank
What comes from desperation is a blood-born tsunami
full of the ghosts of dead racists and stolen children,
full of collateral damage and crackheads hooked on crystal
Sold to them by the CIA.
This country cannot swallow the blood needed to clear its cup.
But at least we gonna barbeque and vote, and Dream, and read.
At least we gonna explain to the children that this was the day
The last slaves were freed when there are still hungry mouths to feed.
At least we gonna sit with Baldwin, or Miles, or Kendrick, and unhinge
Our throats like snakes swallowing what the storms sing from suffering.
At least we can carry that truth. If only for a day. If only to free the last
Mind slaves still believing that the war is over, the dead silent,
The constitution holy, the senate fair, the president controls gas prices,
The bullet not already loaded, the school doors not already locked,
The rich earned it, the news aint propaganda, the children martyrs
The blood in our bodies not singing requiems to the pain of our ancestors,
At least we gonna pretend that this country actually free.
Jun 17, 2022
Jun 17, 2022 at 5:48 AM UTC
_the mythic Esther notwithstanding_;
the only Jewish Miss America was
Bess Myerson; Miss New York, &
exemplar of classic beauty c.1945
studying German philosophy
living on the upper east side;
surrounded by rich Park Avenue
Jews - spewing Nietzschean
Nihilism causing them to _shudder_
at the thought of relatives dragged
from homes never to be seen
again; they don't want to hear
that **** - my buddy Mingus Jr.
bringing mechanical bebop to
his constructed paintings;
on
the other hand, I'm going on & on
about Heidegger & Schopenhauer,
Brian Eno, David Bowie, Hegel,
****** Goebbels & Riefenstahl;
my paintings are violent; as if
Jack the Ripper & James Whistler
were the same guy; all women are
beautiful by nature, but I would've
done it different - put the snooch
on top, the udders on the bottom,
*** in front, arms & legs splayed
out to the sides; yes, that's better,
Diane Arbus, Ann Frank, Hannah
Arendt, Dori Bernstein, Alison
Linefsky & Eva Hesse are more
beautiful than Lilith & Eve mixed;
I hate being called a antisemitic;
it's a painful reminder that at the
moment I don't have a Jewish gf
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
There was morality in why women want,
but emotional voids are consumed by consumerism
and it’s redundant, but you can’t feed the starving
food. These days you can’t find one not
entranced by the idea of a “better ****** diet,”
and it sounds like they need to eat out more, but
the Glamour in magazines is under empty stomachs
and proof-labeled wine. So you find yourself at a cross,
cross-eyed and in a skeletal body running in the rain.
But if she wrote Drinking: A love story, and broke my heart,
then she can fill voids with Hegel substitutions. She filled
one with God and one with Zoloft. A baby escapes,
escape that Burroughs found only in ******** and *****
until he met a golden pig and finally blacked-in)
And in the child’s first suckling moment
“Let her be filled.”
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 10:08 PM UTC
Hegel’s Hero in Dream
Hegel’s Hero appeared with video of heroes
To teach me Ideas and dialectics in society;
I saw there, Lions and Foxes of Machiavelli
Fighting , growling , springing from bushes.
Aimless Dame Fortune moves in history past
Politics of India, snowy, foggy, and shadowy!
Shivering men squat passive keeping “ID card”
As Greek slaves, before the Democratic Lords.
General Will ,as Rousseau says ,forms society,
Nation, Governments based on Ideas extant.
Lords, and the wealthy ruled rudely the ruled
In the past, as history moved as cruelly as fast.
God’s own Universe sans universal concept
On Peace; builds walls around each groups.
Religions fail to link the parted and parched
People who worship vicious Cain and Mammon .
Marx, Engels , and Mao came with the legions
Stumbled, humbled and stifled by the Mammons.
Buddha, Christ and the Prophet Mohammad
Told of Love, Grace, Patience and of Pardon
My Lord, why, we fail to wipe tears and fears?
“Sambhavami yuge yuge” says hazy, Hegel fades.
parithranaya sadhunam/ vinasaya cha dushkritham/
dharmmasamsthapanardhaya/sambhavami yuge yuge.
When in India can we expect such a Hero:Kalki,in Kali?
To be trapped, jailed as terrorist protestant, really!
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
Reality is perception, and perception is subjective. Subjectiveness is sense-certainty, and sense-certainty is an attempt to comprehend the universal, however, sense-certainty is the poorest and most inaccurate account of the Truth. So then, how do we understand the Truth or is that even a possibility?
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 8:40 PM UTC
Here 'I’ am, at ‘this’ place in time at ‘this’ posited location.
Here ‘I’ write, at ‘this’ time; ‘this’ time is ‘Now’, but what is ‘Now’, and what do I mean when I say ‘Now’?
Did I say ‘Now’ now or after the ‘Now’?, videlicet is ‘Now’ after the ‘before’ or before the ‘after’?
If today was tomorrow and tomorrow was yesterday
Where would I be 'Now'?
As Hegel would say:
"Now is a plurality of 'Now'"
Perhaps then it was 'He' who suggested that we just go with the flow of things and live for the moment.
'O sense-certainty... you make me smile...
Sep 24, 2010
Sep 24, 2010 at 11:04 AM UTC
Wish if I were Minerva's owl,
riding dusk departure off my toe.
By Hegel's drifted thoughts a halt,
amid sparkles of ideas in awe.
Riding this ever-ascending firework show,
as high as seven heavens go.
Endowed with flame from Sol,
diving and burning through the thousands of my foe.
Behold,
I'm Icarus who cheated old.
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
Dear Georg,
In the Phenomenology of Spirit, you wrote:
"Reason is spirit, when its certainty of being all reality has been raised to the level of truth, and reason is consciously aware of itself as its own world, and of the world as itself. The development of spirit was indicated in the immediately preceding movement of mind, where the object of consciousness, the category pure and simple, rose to be the notion of reason."
and I was just kinda wondering. Well.... ermmm... what?!?!?!?!
Sincerely,
Tom
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 4:14 PM UTC
The Mother in space demands
that we all learn to read Hegel
in the original German.
She pours me a glass of lemon
grape koolaid and rubs
my eyes out of my head
but the sugar in the juice
is so thick in my body and veins
that they clump and scratch
my capillaries.
I feel the pressure in my fingertips
and the inside of my nose,
the part I push on to relieve stress.
A lonely doe in small grass,
perched roughly near the space commander,
is proximal
approximately wrapped in gauze
from bone to toe in shawls
of dead wasps, strips in equal length running up
deer thighs. Proximal to my soul, my essentiality.
This is a technique called “Relocating
The Issue”
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC
i just looked at friedrich hölderlin's
life and thought: fair enough, Hegel might
get his bagel... but i'll have this madcap's
treaty of honour... the rest can have
the woman who will assuredly spend, and spend,
and keep the economical side of
things in tip-top ticktock... i don't mind death,
having embraced it once, my only fear of death is
a death that i should not wish to exercise against
the educational demonology of the Catholic church,
i.e. not exercising my rights to admit euthanasia...
as one poet said: the sane are too numerous,
too moralised, too cocksure and ***********
you can hear them talking but it just ends
up being a chance to hear them gagging
with a fur-ball... your thoughts on suicide are one,
but your thoughts on medical suicide are another...
that a: the joke wishes to die, what will the people
ever do next? cry? i believe in the Sinai Sun...
i believe in Taiyō as i believe in the Ensō -
Thai-yo-yo... if i am not allowed this luxury
i believe there's no need for a sofa, or a television...
or a care for your opinion being matched
to consider the way to live equal to mine...
your own the path sown and sewed...
each to our own straitjackets and the signature alive,
and epitaph dead.
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 10:46 PM UTC
The strandcafe
was lined
with Hitchcock seagulls
as you looked over
your glasses
with concern
and said
that I did not understand Hegel.
A time ago of rage, and joy and rain.
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 10:42 AM UTC
american drwal,
god almighty...
it's so ******* nasal....
it's almost like
listening to it due hubris:
i'm prone to titilate
***** and gag
and **** and dodgy
doggy the **** out
of shoving an umbrella
where the homosexual wished
it shined.
glutton nasal...
phlegm culprit...
it's almost likely,
that people forgot to utilise
the larynx...
but when jennifer lawrence says
it: i'm giddie i.e. stirrup ready i r
fidgety e e e e, e e e e,
am, cool...
because that's the last word
you'd use, right now, hawkish & priestly....
that nasal goo though... **** me!
what an enlarged concept
of a pond!
knee deep:
kneeling limbo, a Yiddish Dante...
hey presto!
lucky-lookie! a ******* rainbow!
secondant: a berserk's tourism escapade,
minus York....
given the: jawohl... alter.
(in the extreme: salutation...
in the least? ******* on the Irish...)
alter... ya-wol....
had there been a Hegel for
a ****** i guess the world would have
graced enough concerns for a lack
of a Napoleon:
it still means fuck-all to me,
to be certain.
me in a quiet room?
pleasantry or peasant talk?
probably the latter...
drill... drum...
Bulgaria vita spes mea!
ya-voll kungen - king - sh-wed
szved - karga - barren -
kryta: hidden -
ravéné minus gorgon:
culprit: ravaged due cruise invoking crude,
to, vector, noir also: too... x.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 11:31 PM UTC
Am I able to say I would like to carry you to that
oblique lake overseas, where we can still imagine
“the early 19th Century twilight,” and from the
trestle see how a self-determining logic in the
form of rationally organized matter—the luster of
metal, a vanishing glimpse of the moon or the sun,
a smile—becomes conscious, self-conscious, through us;
a freedom emptied out into that time we were
rambling to and fro like the rivers, and the dust
blanketed inscriptions on pulp condoned from trees
planted with the depths and heights of the human
heart as such? Yet how can we picture abstractions
that we can not live in alone, but perhaps to
imagine, with this, a criss-cross movement of
subjective expressions, views, and attitudes where
I sacrifice myselfs and my topics alike to a faith
we know is unwarranted, a slant illustration of
what we’ve agreed to call truth; the shimmer
of a bunch of grapes by candlelight, its joys
and sorrows, its strivings, deeds, and fates.
* * *
And when I say “this” I mean this, philosophy,
or pottery, or e-mails and short tweets between us.
And when I say “us” I don’t just mean the two of us,
you and me, but humanity. Of course, the abstract
is always felt through the concrete, as, when our
arms were touching, I felt what I am unable to say.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 12:40 AM UTC
looking through a fashion magazine,
it dawned on me, when i read
that the ******* magazine
was covering up it's modelling stance,
so i put 1 and 1 together and firstly
thought: the cows are coming home,
i've never seen times as grotesque as
these, where milking a cow
or seeing feeding parts represented
within a cleft of eroticism: or that
such a keen representation could ever be;
i know the urban population thinks
if not simply believing in the village idiot,
or that people living in less dense places
are just plain donkey dumb...
but with due respect... i think the urban
monkeys are a bit cuckoo, stressing
that the top tier of existence is selling
cow ******* or that cow ******* would
be a farmer's wet dream... but it does translate
as that for the grand couture towns' folk,
sure idiots in villages... perverts in cities;
(semi-colons are used when you're itchy
to pause and start a new sentence somehow
connected with the previous one...
you a semi-colon, rather than starting
a new follow-up sentence with a conjunction word
like and);
so what dawned on me? ah, the definition of
philosophy and philosopher, Hegel redefined it
(i know i slandered once for being a charlatan
for being the one to have invented what Kant
already did: that thesis, antithesis, (synthesis)
bit... critique of pure reason has a beautiful
section where there's a clear split) as:
philosopher is a puppeteer - i.e. to be
the extension of a thinking man's unwillingness
to will what he thinks... unless of course
you're a weltgeist (spirit of the world)...
like Hegel pointed out concerning Napoleon...
a strategist who's thinking-to-will is perfected
to an dualism without confusion.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
Shall i fight this or throw in the towel?
The weight of this feeling,
So unwieldy and amorphous
Grappling with connection
Derangement of all senses
Swathed in a veil of disguises
Oh what have i done to deserve you
The weight of this feeling,
So naked and overpowering
Crysanthemums and shrooms
Rimbaud quatrain in technicolor
You are the roadmap to my life
The weight of this feeling,
So unfeigned and unquestionable
Treading frigid and lovelorn terrain
With sieve-minded memory of
Futile spoutings of hegel in counseling
The weight of this feeling,
So tangible and concrete
Warts all over your face,
Worms crawling through my spine,
Loveless lives in terminal decline
The weight of this feeling,
So deep-seated and unrelenting
Shall i fight this or throw in the towel?
The weight of this feeling,
So heavy and sad
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
#*Living in the dark, yet afraid of the shadows;
cast forth from the stars of a mystic scintillant soul
Knowledge illuminates the scholar's glass window;
scorches the brush of the ignoramus's finite goals
Remember, however, all fields exist as fractals;
pursue to infinity and perceive the worm's crawl
Brothers and sisters, united in life's shackles;
the universe's fixed physical laws constrain all
Though collectively, mankind strives for heaven's lenses;
forever advancing Hegel's romantic world essence*#
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 8:16 PM UTC
the **** have you learned?
mierda madre!
there's a roll on the R...
rhasp...
marx learned
his dialectics from Hegel?
so....
everyone forgot about Kant?!
leave me drunk
singing
ah'oy'ah yo'y'ah...
i'll sniff the grounds,
take a dog to a tow...
and beg for relief...
the cull in tow
for all the security cricis..
syrian death toll..
children cripples...
when the sunni overshadow
the shiite....
prior to orthodox
islam splitting...
death in Damascus....
orthodoxy you leverage
cok-sucker...
squirt ah-Lisbon...
ich haben leben
vor morschfleisch...
schwachkopf ist alles gut?!
alles-gut!
ich bin
zu heben ein ursache...
mein kind...
mein herz...
ich bin kind...
ich bin herz...
du ein
schaudern
kommen sie:
willkommen...
ich haben
augen zu sehen
schatten.
die gott!
die gott!
vater-bergwerk!
auf ein selbst!
auf ein mann!
sein deutsche...
heil...
aye!
wert die arbeit!
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 10:28 PM UTC
Modernism did away with Enlightenment
thinking duality and all, Hegel and all
in case no one noticed the way kpop replaced
american pop---thank god---
the way Plato replaced Jesus---
Christians are teaching Socratic philosophy
& don’t know it---wtf---Postmodernism did away
with all that and AI does away w/ nothing---
The mass media is a collective prophet
Symbols shine like the sun
Every time I try to kiss her
Fourteen-year-old doppelganger---
And who knows what will replace the future,
Schopenhauer knew, Nietzsche knew---
Emerson knew, Brigitte Bardot knew---
Kerouac knew, Dylan knows but he’s not telling---
No one will listen to him,
They’re all waiting for Plato thinking it’s Jesus---
I’m a Neoplatonist myself, therefore not deluded
by the cereal-like pablum
that passes for the mundane ********
of late-night television in your brain---
Pimping their little Asian *****
is not politically correct and may be a crime---
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
Pine embellished by Cassiopeia arched over prone morning. Meadowlark laughed, cougars stalked shadows, crow deputies. Bent creek carried silt of spring, sigh of cedar. Cold mist, feathered cloak marked him of eagle and raven. He took part night, river’s depth in bent cedar boxes along grease trails over walls called cordillera. Distantly ships put into several bays. Raven gave up tricking salmon people, at Rose Spit called out first, men. Who had invented dance now demanded war. What speech there was was lament. Undone morning weeps bloodied. Anger-melted gold fills insatiable mouths, shames what night cannot hide. No more hand set to house front, no more ashlar of jasper. Night casts her spears, we have not even time to die. Flee hands which reach from river, children ghost small starving birds. Rejoice in crow’s carrion cruelty, Owl devour those we cannot smother in our desperate escape.
Look up beaten, complaining, supreme. Reconstruction begins in this torpor, a boredom purring heart cannot abolish. Inebriated with the impossible, go past mission outpost’s Gide and a Kempis to the lineage house of men. Hegel whispers I never did believe. Attar extend gender-inflected zero. In the wrong season glisten with sugary neoprene. Belong to at least two countries, Land of Goshen sours. Break into Quechua, haunt cruel Saturdays, look for amigo. Wheat field marries into lion’s eye. Ayacucho fanfares enclose the wind. White-breasted, black-winged, displace requiem. Recover lost chives, cottonwood’s inerrant perfume, shooting stars on the other side of the river. When mountain burns, Eyes-Are-In-Festival yields turquoise. Let him palmer drink iris dry. Sky falls, camas blooms, then this morning white tail flicker in low aspen, chickadee dee dee dee, chickadee dee dee dee.
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 1:52 PM UTC
drinking *** allows you to
spots things.... the like of insects crawling
on glasss... the oddity being:
inside a room... i call it a misguide
between glass and air...
and then there's evanescne's
my immortal...
and why i can forge
a need for a tear...
that sense of
a gratifying gulp of snot...
the pass on asking being
demanding....
like wolverine asking jane / phoenix
out on a date... but being rejected....
because she's seeing
cyclopse;
**** me, a woman's take on scent...
and then cleaning up cat's ****
well done....
to satiate the brute...
you have to be the brute...
and what of a need for
a callous call to make amends?
well, merely answered by a:
hush;
and that's outside the domain
of saying growl...
when an actual growl was neccesary;
and was, a verb, rather than a noun...
oh the freeing feeling
of the much adored sadness!
god, with it, i am, nowhere closer than
to you, in that i am... "claustrophobic",
yes, res locus;
yes, res locus... it's something that gives
a historicity of the cartesian argument...
a temporal and a spatial guise-cocnern
for temperaments that avoids
fabrics, and that said, generally:
fashion; esp. to give vogue to cognition!
it really can be "unfashionable"
to think someone's argument...
e.g. kant? unfashionable.
nietszche? very much fashionable...
it's called hegel's lecture notes + marx's critique...
cogntive vogue...
i like that term...
it sounds so much more astute to be said,
than say, cultural marxism...
so much easier to state:
well... given the year 2017, the cognitive vogue
is... a, b, c...
than ascribe some definitves /
post-scripts of an ideology,
like darwinism, that's become as rigid
as the geometry of a triangle;
and **** me! the theaory won't budge!
it won't budge into a yawn! degraded as library
material!
it had to compete with marxism
as having, a culutral status!
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 10:50 AM UTC