"purposive" poems
Nothingness.
Imagine nothingness.
That nothingness which is nothing of the nothingness we are all familiar with:
Not that nothingness which is nothing but empty space and time
Like when you open an empty room.
No.
That nothingness where nothing truly exists:
Not space,
Not even time.
A singular point.
Imagine a singular point.
The ultimate singular point that contains all possible points
In the development of the universe
Come out and expand
From the birthing of time, the instance of The Big Bang,
(Which by the way is not a large explosion, as the words imply, but a silent rapid expansion)
Pushing the envelope
Where nothingness begins.
Chance.
Imagine chance.
The random occurrence of events:
Of fundamental particles colliding and uniting
Or annihilating each other,
Giving rise to protons, neutrons and electrons;
Giving rise to the periodic table,
To compounds, both organic and inorganic,
To macromolecules.
Billions of years.
Imagine billions of years
Gone by,
And billions of galaxies filling the sky:
Stars and quasars and pulsars
Planets and comets and meteors
***** nilly hurtling through
Dark matter and ever expanding space,
Yet inanimate still
,
A single cell.
Imagine a single cell
Form inexplicably so,
In a staggeringly highly improbable way
As carbon molecules combine,
Start to throb and pulsate:
Chance bringing forth life
In a barren and otherwise
Lifeless universe.
Consciousness
Imagine consciousness
Purposive, willful, deliberate
Feelings
Imagine feelings
Love, compassion, hatred
Imagine all in a universe that came out of itself from nothingness.
It is hard, of course,
For after all, we are creatures of somethingness!
But at this point
You must have seen the Point
Of all the ramblings and turns in the trajectory of my thought
Tracing the evolutionary course of the universe
From nothingness and that singular point
That without God
All things are
After all
Pointless!
.
And so,
Let us not deplore, as a great poet once did,
That this world “so various, so beautiful, so new
Hath no joy, nor love, nor light
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain…”
For what else should we expect
Of a cold, unfeeling universe?
What?
Give us some Novocain?
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
basic arithmetic in terms of punctuation, otherwise? simply the arithmetic of punctuation: what does (,) equal? what does (.) equal? what does (:) equal? what does (-) equal? what does (;) equal? come on, quick! quick! give me a number!
to think, is to not narrate,
much of what is regarded as
"thinking", simply becomes as art
of narration
that is sofa-bound, i.e. so comfortable
that it feels it has no inclination
toward the use of hands as ever
being idle, it simply replaces
hands with a tongue...
hence: idle speech,
hence political speech;
so if the "devil" has work for idle hands,
then "god" has work for the idle zunge
(tongue)...
but most people don't think,
because their thinkling is solely about
narrating,
their day-to-day...
and i appreciate this custom,
in the cognitive realm...
i really do...
how many jokes ushered into
the void of one's silence, neither whisphers,
nor hummings, nor whistling...
wiser still, essentially unchanged...
but heidegger's aphorism no. 285
really bothers me...
the reader looking into the narrator
given the existentialist inverted commas
(iberian inverted questioning
¿ ? that's the first step toward
an iberian existentialism)
said the third person,
with third party sources, the middle man,
the second person, and then the reader
of the writer's original testimony?
if northern existentialism (french / german...
the english were too reactionary, and
too easily bored by the continental drift)
encompasses the tool that's " "
then the iberian tool has to be the inverted
question mark, i.e. ¿ ?,
sitting comfortably? no? how about a wheelchair...
let me just break your legs and your spine.
but aphorism 285: "worldview",
"grounding", "configuring"...
i don't understand this allocation of ambiguity,
and an italic stress on da-sein / da-sein...
aren't all the three descriptive elements /
adjectives the purposive sentiments for
originating the concept of dasein?
i had to counter with an iberian existential tool...
after all i said, 'he said', "we said"...
it's a third party medium
of supposed ambiguity...
if there's a santa claus (satan's clause),
then there's pontius pilate's clause,
found in the existential tool of double-ditto " "
or as the english like to say: inverted commas;
or the ritual: of washing your hands clean
from passing the judgement...
they're citation marks to be honest, come on,
let's be pompous, they donned 19th top-hats
at ascot's horse races! who's fooling who?
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 7:25 AM UTC
non-authentic self
~~~
you have
never seen me,
I have never touched you
so ask me
am I
authentic?
am I based on facts,
accurate, reliable,
purposive & emotionally
accurate?
drill a core sample
into my essence
test it for
contamination, nutrients,
purity,
values on a scale measuring
human essentials
then throw all the results
in the garbage
if you want to verify my
authenticity,
*drill down deeper
into my
poetry*
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 6:35 AM UTC
you want war, you have world war two spitfire pilots to serve your post-colonial migration; and yes, i'll twitch my eyes; ha ha cuisine scots using ginger.
there's a quintessential
fascination with cabbage
among the mutli-cultural
asians of england being picky
concerning scandinavians
and the slavs...
politico i could say as much
about indian spices.. but they're
granulated i admit,
so there's less stink in the armpits;
or there isn't, given chanel cardamom:
assimilated asians into british
society don’t use raw herrings and cabbage
to joke about other european ethnicities
while waving the st. george
of that great fake curry of suffolk.
*i've been telling the turks about sauerkraut for years
to match up a purposive additive for the lamb kebab;
sours to cut through the lamb fat like the chillies
cutting through.*
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 8:10 PM UTC
*so there are fifty states and they’re joined by federation laws,
but talk of “the state” is not talked about in the same way as
talk of california
or new jersey or new england...
because these states... ah blah blah... why not change
it to the f.n.a.: federation of north america?
it’d sell you a few badges, t-shirts and balloons.*
so in america the federal laws are like ecclesiastical laws,
and state laws are like european state laws -
steal an onion from a merchant’s stand
and get your hand chopped off
in the translation of arabic, should it come to such
drastic action -
so while in europe the church-state of einstein’s
vocabulary went their separate ways
ensuring that time became definite and space became definite
and the space-time / church-state hyphenated coupling
was simply defined as indefinite...
and that coupling became sort of theoretically
stuck in bubblegum of inactivity and awe as truth.
in america there’s a purposive blocked toilet
of the federal (laws) never meeting the state (laws)...
but imagine if the federal met the state
like the church once met & clung to the state...
this purposive avoidance of the two never meeting
in america is already problematic
from what i have heard...
the two need to meet and then uncouple...
like in europe where the church & state met and then divorced...
this state / federal engagement can’t last...
there has to be a marriage... and subsequent divorce to just
see how the political engine works...
otherwise there’ll be a lawyers’ limbo to contend with,
i.e. when a lawyer doesn’t understand something
he tends to use his defence mechanism of making at least
one word ambiguous with the word’s secondary, tertiary meaning,
which doesn't ask for a serious argument
but a solipsistic technicality of not talking to the person
least informed but most ambitious to say something, anything.
i.e. you can’t really claim that california is federated
if the wealth of california is worth as much as iowa, nebraska,
north dakota, south dakota, wyoming... basically the whole of mid-west
scotland ireland bulgaria and romania and sicily;
but i’m sure thomas jefferson was looking for pretty geography
rather than equations to stamp out marxism.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
this system of notation
this great archaic atlas,
is really misunderstood,
for some reason,
a reason very much bold
if not simply balding
from reasons outside
of genetics via a scratched head,
seems to confuse people,
you never hear of painters
having to apologise,
for outrageous neon red,
or ultra-violets that are like
paparazzi pepper-spray of
flashes leading up to an epileptic
seizure... you never hear it...
but for some reason, when you
write something outrageous
you have to conclude by having
to write some sort of apologetics;
for me people just don't get it,
why would a painter apologise
for excesses when there aren't any?
why would a painter get all the
slack and the poet a humbling
feel of anonymity? this sort of
dynamic only perpetuates mankind's
power struggle / gamble in the
medium of communication,
and when used to express something
as fanciful as poetry, immediately
taken to invoke a strict obligation
for a conversation as simple as:
- how much the bananas?
- two for one a third one gratis!
- in terms of pound?
- half a kilo for a quid.
- thank you, i'll have two portions
of that libra.
so by attacking the sole communicating
medium of perfect accord
we attack it's liberated expression
of poetry as we might attack
anything that moves with a knife...
although it's moving with a knife
ready to butter a scone or a crumpet
or a half toasted piece of bread
according to sting's englishman in new york;
and with such purposive attacks
language no longer serves a stance
of a required medium of communication,
but a required medium of discord;
as i said once, too many a times to
now forcefully repeat: if language
could be represented via chemistry...
it would be the most volatile substance
known to man: more volatile
than lithium in water, or the atom-bomb,
i dare say.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 10:33 AM UTC
I would like to believe that someday I will find my way home.
A place, no, a feeling that I can emphatize with wholeheartedly.
Somewhere where my skin fits perfectly free to roam,
Where tears that stream down would end abruptly.
A man is free to dream to be with whom he wants to be,
Perhaps in heavens of whispers on secret room escapades,
Or on the free road with festive decors that lets an unending flow of glee,
Bursts of joy that would make someone hopeless feel saved.
The waves of the oceans of uncertainties will be crashed,
By the roots and foundation of courage and liberty,
The winds of shame will be hushed,
It is time for the well of hatred, imprisonment, and drama to feel thirsty.
All in good time will we reach the moon ever evasive,
We aren't fools who won't stand true to what we desire.
We are what we are - purposive.
We are everything except people who tire.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC