"rhetorically" poems
1. Spread claims you are the only one who can stop corrupt politicians and their dependence on the rich (even though you yourself belong to the rich)
2. Spread lies and insults about anyone who might look like a serious opponent
3. Once you are in power, continue 1. & 2. and put your rich friends into influential positions in state offices and courts, give tax breaks to the rich and claim that everyone benefits from them. Declare any information that runs counter to your lies „fake news“.
4. Invent threats to the security and well-being of the nation and then claim you are the one who can solve all the problems by strict measures, like building a 2,000 mile wall against those criminal immigrants that threaten your people – what the „fake news“ reports as a few thousand refugees from neighboring countries who flee from misery and persecution and crime and hope to get asylum in your country of 350 million.
5. Cut your aid programs for the home countries of those resfugees so that the situation there worsens even more and even more people will try to run for a better life, and you can rhetorically justify inhuman security measures at your borders.
6. On a different field, isolate your country internationally, be the elefant in the china shop, break or end international agreements, destabilize whole regions, and then threaten to send the military – all of which, you tell your voters, makes your country great again.
7. Start trade wars with old global partners, accusing them of taking advantage of your countrty, and when your own economy suffers from such idiocies, calm your afflicted followers with federal subsidies that jolt the nationl deficit to singular heights.
8. Fire (or mob into retirement) any critical person in your government until all your officials speak with your voice.
9. Look around for a worthy cause to be the focus of your consoldidated power.
10. Start a world war and lose it.
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 5:21 PM UTC
Raise your hand if
your confidence is reaching its limit
Well let me tell you,
don't dare believe it for a minute
A poet stands at the center
of circles of illusions
Sparked by the fire within
and burnin' institutions
They write about the current state
as far as they can see it,
as well as personal doubts
claimin' that they can feel it
Don't hand your savings over,
'cause now you pay it forward,
but life won't pay you back,
So what you say to that?
*"I say we're bein' controlled
by such an evil system;
a metal contract was forced
on lost and bleedin' victims."
"I don't agree with you, man.
We're where we need to be.
With very little control,
we risk to eat for free!"
We risk to eat for free?
"Food's a commodity!
And with overpopulation,
I say this honestly!"
"Don't mean to interrupt;
your notion of depravity
appears dumbfounded and
far from grounded by gravity."
"I say this world belongs
to kings and innovators;
hope of the people is thrown
to the incinerator."
"We're seeking liberators
mightier than the sword.
We work to buy them a pen -
weapons we can afford."
"And when their eyes are wide open
I think that writers see
the world not for what it is,
rather what it could be."
"Yeah! They're talkin' for us metaphorically,
imaginin' utopias for you and me,
questions answered rhetorically."*
The world is yours
and no one else's,
so live to give it more time
through love and being selfless.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
We are the people we are
Far from the people we should be
Humor makes up the difference
In every uncomfortable instance
Humor I must know
To soften the blow
And make life enjoyable
Humor is always employable
Negativity carelessly creeps
From somewhere deep
I feel tragedy
Grabbing me
I must rhetorically escape
These problems will deflate
Once I receive a joke
After taking a ****
With familiar folks
We're all somewhat stand-up comedians
In front of our friends
The pros have no way of seeing them
So specificity we lend
It can be trite and true
Or bright and new
Curing the blues
To help get you through
To keep from constantly imagining
The endless amount of tragedy
I must have a sense of humor
To ignore the hectic rumors
Or the life ending tumors
Or the treacherous suitors
My only tools are words
And all my words are tools
Turning sages into fools
If they want to bring me down
My words can steal their crown
The albatross around my naked neck
Is my greatest source of comedy
Adding perspective to a stacked deck
Turning drama into Dramamine
Putting on a mask like Halloween
When the darkness follows me
Humor keeps me from wallowing
In my own self pity
I'd rather feel giddy
I hate myself so much sometimes
Humor can help remove that grime
Not getting rid of it completely
But not letting it cut so deeply
It's the only thing that can treat me
When life decides to beat me
I respond by feasting
On pain
And ******** out harmless humor
Which drains
The sensation of being a loser
That feeling you get when your friends laugh
That feeling you get when your friends clap
Like violent gunshots in the distance
Humor alleviates the agony of existence
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 2:39 AM UTC
Forever and always she made herself stand,
holding on to nothing but an ever-fleeting hand
Relentlessly holding an already shattered man
She blinded herself with his over-sized fans
Impressively outspoken she was nothing like them,
she allowed herself to simply comprehend
Always will you assume that which you "know,"
but please understand, this wasn't any puppet show
Never before had she really understood,
rhetorically she screamed at the deafening looks
Praying for more then a stiff right hook,
asking her nicely to move more than a foot
Bending and curling, spinning and twirling,
her mother never dreamed one day she'd be swerving
silver-tongued, smooth as they come,
she found a puppet master with more ammo then guns
One by one he strung them through,
he controlled every move she tried to pursue
Never did he think his strings could fall loose
One day they did and he was left with a noose
Puppet Master, haven't you heard?
You cannot put strings on this wild bird
She'll shake and **** until she comes untied
And when she gets out she'll stay out for life
Tiny dancer, break free of his song,
you knew you could do better, all along
Remember its true, just believe you are strong
And never again can they tell you 'it's wrong.'
Don't stress the small stuff, just move on
His strings are hers, and you're better off
Believe what you say and say it every day
The book can't continue if you don't flip the page
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 6:26 PM UTC
*I have been studying how I may compare
This prison where I live unto the world;
And for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out.*
-Shakespeare, Richard II, Act V.I
The world I fathom rhetorically orbits
around the whirr of a dust-peppered
triad of turbine limbs
inbreeding infinitely as electricity's
treaty permits
into a smorgasbord whirl of
processed plastic white
A remedial sun I compose
to counter outside's oven bulb
in the world I do not fathom
Heat's ****** of humidity
is not lost on me
with no canonized sense
even to establish it with
And even my own remedial sun
restricts a reality-knighting touch
with its ozone cage pried open
in unseen haste - a victim
of college's fugitive waltz
encased in the jazz fusion dance hall
of the world I cannot fathom
Is there a dual left-footed
interpretive dance of a carbon dimension
outside of reality's steaming kitchen
to fathom me?
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 3:17 PM UTC
Rhetorically I wish the warm
Stoke rain
would wash away the grey gloom,
allotments included.
The greenfly and other impertinents unexempted.
Minor disruptions apart will bring out our stoicisn,
gushing from the backwaters
we feared we had become,
raking in a new terrain.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
I sip on scotch and sit here
and secretly, I hope you'll appear.
At first, you'll glance through the crack in the door frame,
I'll look like the intellectual you were missing all this time.
You'll wonder why you ever left and how it was that you thought
you could do without me.
I'll feel the burning of one eye upon me,
so as to keep your furtiveness, your surprise,
but then a second reveals itself, and then your cosmic third.
The desk lamp will shadow your outline
when I slowly, intuitively, glance over my shoulder
somewhat unexpectedly, to you.
My eyes will pry, if only rhetorically, "Who's there?"
and you'll slowly, almost shyly,
though we were never shy with one another,
creak the door open to unveil your then-lit body.
Your radiant figure will send vibrations
through the wooden floor slats into my feet
and I'll begin to feverishly dance,
right then and there,
as if bitten by the largest of tarantulas.
I'll stare in disbelief
thinking that maybe it's the alcohol
which has created this image of you,
or maybe, in fact, I'm devastatingly sleep-ridden,
and so against my heart's common sense
I'll rub my eyes to clear the vision.
You, who haven't shown up night after night,
through all of my writing and pondering
and talking-to-self and drinking
and questioning and driving
and aimlessly-staring and searching
and forgetting and trying-to-understand
and resenting and hating
and loving and forgiving
and grinding and howling
and loving and missing,
but this one night,
this blue moon event,
I guess you could call it that
though it's already passed,
after consuming too much,
you'll appear.
Then I realize,
I am here
and you are nowhere.
Always I think I hear sounds
similar to returning footsteps
barely audible over the taps on my keyboard,
but it's never you.
And so, I continue on,
peeking over shoulder,
awaiting my cliché,
as I sit here and sip scotch after scotch.
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 1:49 AM UTC
I guess it started when I felt I needed something different. When you want it, it's just hard to keep it realistic.
All games. I'm done playing. Now the puzzle picture doesn't work with all these pieces missing.
More specifically, we were closer when we kept our distance. Optimistic. Pessimistic. I can't even tell the difference.
You would always break down when we talked about a break up. Mascara down your check, I always mess up trying to make up. Yeah I see that.
Yeah I see all the complexity, it starts to mess with me. We take a seat but no one talks like an assembly.
Mentioning the fact that we're not perfect is the perfect way to tell that it's not worth it, are you listening?
No, it's always hard to hear the things that you don't want to hear. My phone battery on 17% that's how I feel here.
"Are we done here?" She asked rhetorically, heading to the door. She's taking all her things. She can't take it anymore.
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
and so they fell …
Tears as pearly quaver
Salty in their pas de deux from her realize
A can-can polka in strip tease of soul bare
How vibrant, albeit transient in masquerade, their desire
A dance of miniscule quandary in micro adventure
Frilly knickered, in slivers of the truth
In folly, a spent of friendship abandoned
Curtsey now, in diversity of no embrace, why?
…for our lives are but a piecemeal of conversation
Random etymology in lesson
A three penny opera with no beg your pardon
The once bemused attar of forget me nots
Their fragrance now heavy in the air
…and the diminutive whys, wander rhetorically, in and out
of the bungle bungles of reality… because they can-can
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 3:47 AM UTC
Where do I begin? -
- Is a sentence even enough?
Excitement, odd excitement;
- my initial response.
The sort of excitement a parent has,
over hearing their young utter their first, full word.
That thrilling excitement, which overwhelms you;
as you sit and engaged in your first adult conversation,
with your parents.
Where do I even begin?
- the concealed excitement,
at your first date.
The introverted excitement you have -
as you tap your feet, while squandering a conversation,
with your first love.
But, where do I begin, I contemplated.
The excitement, a foolish one at that,
that makes you sing out your favourite love song;
while aware of the fact you are an awful singer.
The excitement, that nervous, yet squirm in excitement -
as you lean in for your first kiss.
What was your question?
I asked of her to reiterate.
Wandering, contemplating.
How she could sound so pleasant and ****
while she maunders?
Excitement? I ask, rhetorically.
As I wonder how she sounds so beautiful,
without making any sense.
That kind of excitement.
But, she enquired for a single sentence.
I had more than one.
So, to single one out, I breathed slowly, paused;
- Can I get an endless day, where I am excited to be in your presence?
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
We still see and hear their annoying class,
business Blackberry users amplify their relic, a discourse with the plebs,
plumb clipped tones from deepest
Home counties and southern coast
tired men with families
moved to gentrified London,
at any farmers market you catch them
in their 4x4, dress down best
a pram in tow, Pomfrey junior
their prodigal Norman sounding offspring
rhetorically the promised land,
a seed bank unending.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 4:24 AM UTC
war is an industry
cloaked in big words
whose product
is death
and profit
is image
with a false sense of security
power, and liberty
built in such layers
with so many names
signing so many papers
on matters that they
have no right to sign
that when someone asks
who is responsible
for the schools blown apart
or the rapes of young girls
names slip like water
through the fingers that search
because that one person
was instructed by this
one person
and that one person
was instructed by this
one person
so inevitably you get lost
in the game of name-blaming
and the questions of ethics
are subservient
to the chances of victory
and damage isn’t allowed
to the profit of image
without image you are
no longer the truth
and they are no longer
the wrong
and soon the lines
that separated so clearly
blur one into the other
and it is hard to decipher
who the enemy is
and without this
discernment
between the right
and the wrong
the reasons for fighting
don’t seem so clear
and questions are raised
and voices are heard
and victims are mourned
and colours don’t matter
and neither do prayers
and so those in power
keep these lines straight
with the language of war
to keep out of sight
the responsibility to be had
or the mourning of millions
or the injustice of papers
being signed in corrupt ink
until the public stands up on their own
and erases the lines so rhetorically imposed
and realizes the enemy are not men with dark skin
but obscurity of justice and reason within
the industry of war will continue on raging
through distant lands that are actually close
and the innocent will continue to suffer
and the poor will only get poorer
and in time, the children in this ostracized world
will become bitter and eager
with their own image of evil
and their own language of war.
Dec 23, 2010
Dec 23, 2010 at 8:49 PM UTC
A book of my thoughts,
careful gestures,
and randomized scribbles.
An assortment of "I don't know"s
and question marks.
Rhetorically, why do I write in this?
Why do I mention this book which keeps me still?
Why ever would 'why' be my ever waking thrill?
Why not try, writing a book dedicated to 'why'?
You'll be amazed at what you don't know.
Why is..
Why me..
Why you..
Why do..
Lovely friends,
I see you now,
because I've asked why and how
and how
could I not see,
until I asked why you were wanting me to be free,
leaving me be?
Lovely friends,
I've opened mind,
opened hands.
Why not write 'why'?
The questions do not torment,
they simply fly away,
replaced with clarity:
you didn't know. I didn't know. We don't always know.
Why are we so wrong?
Why are we so right?
Why do we hate day?
Why do we love night?
Why were we so weak?
Why were we so strong?
Why not move along?
Why is a book binding you to life,
bind you to hope,
helping people strive?
Why, a book like mine is one with a streaming hook.
Why do I love my why book?
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
I’ve been trying to fall asleep for 17 years
leaving blue imprints of my face on pillow cases
a signature of each dream I’ve had and forgotten.
Take me to church for my medicated tongue
and butterflies on my cheeks,
in a week
I’ll rest my forehead between the pews
on thick books of medical literature
again and again,
pressing a tiny cross into my skin.
I am not a religious person;
my poetry is about the silent h’s in words,
rhetorically questioning rhyme,
sedating my hair into thirds
and braiding my fingers with thyme.
Sacrifice a rib for a sheet of paper,
write me all your recipes,
notes on world history and
a list of pros and cons of living in Berlin.
Onomatopoeias keep me up until
6am
with wide eyes and albums of expired polaroids.
Dilated voices in fluorescent hallways
mix with the whispers of comfortable shoes,
hoping for good news.
After 17 years, my hands are shaky
my kitchen counter has a S-S pillbox
and I love the sound of sleepiness.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
O! The devil of heart, who dwells all around like a halo
An orbit of sleeplessness, a magnet of thousands of random dreams
Some abide by the rules of hearts, some follow their own set paths
These diversions are like the shooting stars, and a silent prayer somewhere down is whispered in ajar!
Jungles or mountains, pens or papers, jingles or jangles, strip or steap
Synchronically or rhetorically, this puzzle is not making me sleep
Abandoning my thoughts in this vast universe of genius's spree
O the lover and the keeper of hearts, just for once , LOOK AT ME!
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 4:15 PM UTC
I am my own worst enemy.
hold these calloused hands, guide me.
take me three steps forward so i can turn back
tell me you love me so can admit that i have nothing to confess
Massage these sore shoulders so i can return to my shell.
Pick up the phone, call the doctor. But I've already been diagnosed.
Im dying inside from self inflicted trauma.
I cant be saved, I dont wanna be saved.
An old man asked quite rhetorically:
Do you want your name in the stars or on a tombstone?
Why cant i have both?
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
Never Say No
So naive, so gentle and so pure.
Pure of challenge, pure of respect, pure of confrontation and pure of expectation
Except in exceptional attire, but I accept you
You see life, is a puzzle;
A bunch of random, jagged edge pieces you have to form into a cohesive picture that appeases the public, but is also true to you.
“But what do you do with your gifts?” I ask rhetorically because it’s not up to me
It’s your picture.
And a stunning one at that.
I don’t doubt you will find your wave because the surf’s up and there plenty that will carry
Because I loved you before I knew you, and you knew that; and that’s why we are here
We’re all flawed. All we can do is be good and be better, and that goes for all now matter your personal temperature
So I wish you success, but always wonder;
“Could you have done more?”
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC
One minute I'm fine.
The next I'm not.
I'll be completely composed
Then I'm completely shot.
This disarray we have here
Has left me to unfold
You're all I think about
You're all that I hold.
One moment I'm dying to hear from you
The next I hope you die.
What you really want is a mystery
How could you leave me for another guy?
I'm tossed between two thoughts
And its really a brother.
I want you to take me back but I don't,
I go from one side to another.
One day I'll be perfectly content
Changing my health for the better
But then I ask rhetorically
Am i doing this just to upset her?
The worst moment is knowing
That I can't get you back.
I should just move on
But that ability I truly lack.
You've set you decision
And there's no persuading your choice.
But every second of the day
I can't seem to shake your voice.
I'm tossed between two thoughts
And its really a bother.
I wish you were mine and yet I don't,
I go one side to another.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 1:38 AM UTC
*I used to worry all the time,
Miraculously I've realized
It's a waste of my mind*
*I have much better
things to do
I've found a purpose
That leads me to you*
*When I tell others
They should not fret
They give me evil eyes
Rhetorically, I ask
Should saying this
be something I should regret?*
*I say
Give God your troubles &
Watch them wash away
You say she's crazy!
Yet true belief
Has never led me astray*
*True belief, is what sets you free
A shadow of doubt
Will burn miracles out!!
BELIEVE
BELIEVE
BELIEVE*
*When you truly believe
Your mind will open up
to more than you can conceive*
*You will start to
Follow His ways
Then you will be
Lifted from a foggy daze*
*You will begin to fill
So much joy
Yet, you'll be aware
of others pain
In some way it hurts
Most it's in gain*
*Belief is what
Increases your strength
And capacity to love*
*So PRAY and
Give belief
And you too
May rise above*
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
Constantly it changed everything.
Overthrows hopes among people,
Varied thoughts, feelings, and demands
Ignites humans’ inability to understand, how
Deadly this virus can be.
Its existence
Creates a big change.
A change that made everything
Fall into place and Space
Or nearly destroys what’s in order.
How did the virus earn its crown?
It is on its pedestal!
Corona,
Corona, the virus!
Virus and it's viral.
Could it be a blessing or not?
Could we be grateful that it exists?
Or it merely
Destroys
Harmony and order.
Corona,
Consoles people
Offers love and care to others;
Reunites shattered and damaged ones;
Nestles kindness and patience to one and all;
Allows bonds and relations to grow deeper.
Is it an epiphany?
A sort of vision to see how beautiful our future will be,
If everyone cares to see the good in each other?
To admire and to appreciate the efforts and hard work of all men
Regardless of life status?
Is it not great to see how people around the globe love one another?
This pandemic shocked the world indeed.
It paved a way to heal what’s broken
Living and non-living things;
Yes, let us include everything that God has created.
We have forgotten our sole responsibility to His gifts.
Corona,
Cures and heals.
Optimistically changes the heart of many;
Rhetorically awakens all to contemplate;
Obliged everybody to care;
Now, behold and pray.
This too shall pass.
Many have died but this would not end
Your hope and faith.
Together we fight,
Together we uncrown
Corona!
Dec 26, 2020
Dec 26, 2020 at 11:39 PM UTC
Whats my name?
and where do i belong?
What lame
Question?
rhetorically
I asked my mirror image
Tuft of hair sprouting from my head
my thoughts spinning like a windmill
I was a different creature from yester years
i was a different shade in this hell
Around me i could hear whispers
Murmurs and even stammers
spilling hum around nature
As they tried to decrypt my identity
As a davinci's code
trying to fit me like a jigsaw
puzzle
Who am i??
The face i saw in a bowl of spring water
Made me wonder
the shadow i saw on a sunny day
left me perplexed
In how many realms do my souls exist
in how many forms do i breathe
With hazy and tired eyes
I can nolonger see my future
nor can my brain fathom what i am
Around me all is dark and hidden
far from reach
do i have an alter ego?
Am yet to comprehend
so
Who is the other me?
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 12:50 PM UTC
“How do you know when you’re in love?”
"Well,” Jack said, gazing out the windshield at the flickering stars, “It feels like drowning in a thousand oceans
starving at a feast
driving
with your eyes closed
and the windows down.”
“Really?”
"Rhetorically speaking."
“It feels like sleeping naked on the beach.
an anchor deep in your chest flung overboard
rain
on the window
of a moonlit apartment.”
“Really?”
“Rhetorically speaking.”
“I love you, Jack.”
“Always and forever?”
“Always and forever.”
"Rhetorically speaking.”
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 3:34 AM UTC
True objectivity, may ironically just truly be, an absolute impossibility
Naturally we, I mean you, and me, aren't meant to dispute, but just be
So I ask you this.....
Mr. Religious Zealots
Ignorant sure Atheists
God fearing humans
and lost little Sheople
Shall we chase bliss...?
waste time being jealous
Wrongfully hate Sadists
? if this show is Truman's
And bow at the Steeple?
Would you want to see a movie, after someone tells you the whole plot
and also ruins and spoils the ending and whether there may be a sequel
Rhetorically I set you free from any obligatory answer or real thought
50-50 roll the credits please, Steven is finally even, we are now equal
So now that we are eye to ear and you can appropriately cry and hear
Lets choose to make those tears of beauty, laughter, joy,love and cheer
So for all of you who still claim to know
Wearing a suit the exact same
Human carcass as me and Joe Schmoe
Representing a various name
Swimming up stream fighting the flow
Playing this same exact game
Leading to that question of where we go
Fluffy clouds, or eternal flame
I have but seven things left to say
And YOU, may, even heed this as advice
Relativity is related in every way
But as far as we know, we don't live twice
Of course, I question if we have an everlasting soul
But the real question should be...what's the rush?
Lets enjoy this beautiful blue and green toilet bowl
And ride that wave right until the very last flush
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC
does the youth of today realise
it doesn't run a monopoly
of internet content?
do they? really?!
with the context of internet
banking... and online shopping...
can youth of today please **** off
with their belitteling chants
and, please use the playground?
it's become a bit like giving
an aged psychopath a red button,
to launch a nuclear weapon...
oh wait: here comes the nation
getting all paranoid... being the sole
powehouse to have... actually detonated
it on a civilian area!
yeah... russia is bad... no no tommy,
no no jim...
they're like germans...
they imploded... and felt guilty...
but instead of producing great machines
of the 4 wheels... they decided upon great
movies... guilt is internalised in many
shapes and sizes...
the french were reasonable
though...
it's a bit like that fire-cracker story...
set of a petard in your hand when it's
open... you'll get a scratch...
but set off the fire-cracker (petard)
while your hand is clenched...
boom! try waving after that...
the french were reasonable
in that they did their nuclear tests
in aquatic environments...
natural insulators...
that's actually not reasonable
in the puritan sense of the words...
where was the japanese army bombing
the **** out of the tsunami wave of
2011 tōhoku?
i swear the army could have intervened...
bombed the **** out of the massive wave
and stopping it by dividing it...
where was the *** army?
oh right... nowhere... there was a helicopter with
a reporter going: oh ha! nagasaki!
kimono sa ka!
i swear... if they bombed the **** out of
that wave, it wouldn't have travelled inland and
ever had done the damage... that it had done...
so much for the army... and so much
for the *** emperor...
eh?
you bomb the tsunami wave...
the wave doesn't travel inland...
1 + 1 = 2?
really? was that the time to consider
the question as a rhetorical ambiguity?
by the way? there's no such thing as a rhetorical question...
not in the way the phrase is dropped...
you really can't ask a "rhetorical question"
if you're rhetorically sound, i.e. readied to
blah blah for the next half hour...
who asks a rhetorical question
is not someone already performing the sophist art
of performance speech that goes: on and on, on and on...
if someone says: that was a rhetorical question...
it's just covert tactic for them to keep on talking...
what the **** is a rhetorical question?
answer? the person asking that question,
keeping up with their monologue.
a rhetorical question doesn't endorse
a dialogue... a rhetorical question, as a phrase
is a solipsistic / sophist tactic: the two
ought to be synonymous...
for the person talking... to just keep on talking
(you can do that pigeon neck movement
speaking the italics... yeah... like you're
head-banging).
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC