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Pearson Bolt Sep 2015
i see the words floating on
message boards or perched
upon the lips of jocular hypocrites
double-standards that demand
sensual chastity and virginal sexuality
in endless iterations of irony

the concussive
monosyllabic words
slung like stones
cast like arrows

****
*****
*****

all labels for
women possessed of
the courage to pursue
their own passion

once upon a time a
Nazarene insisted a ******* had
more integrity than a rich
statesman throwing self-serving parties
so tell me why so
many Christian politicians
propagate patriarchal notions of depravity
in blanket attempts to regulate
the bodies of women

if being anti-choice was really
about preventing abortions
why do rich right-wing conservative
Republicans spend all their time
and money picketing free clinics
when the solution lies in comprehensive
****** education universal healthcare
complimentary birth control
and comprehensive child support

don't dare use the reprehensible
rhetoric of pro-life unless you're
at once anti-war
and anti-death penalty

riddle me this
what pray tell is the
difference between a jealous
religious misogynist
and a secular sexist

it's rather simple actually
while the former bases his
****-shaming on the edicts of
a two thousand year old letter to
the Corinthians inconspicuously
sandwiched between a celebration of
love and a section on speaking in tongues
the latter’s learned behavior is
birthed by a hyper-masculine culture
grounded in dominance

either way we await the day
when wild women raze
these ideologies  
with torches before
rising like phoenixes
from the ashes of
decimated passages
dismissed by intellectuals
as archaic and outmoded
deaf blind and dumb to
the vestiges of modernity
that sap unscientific
philosophies of their potency
and render them utterly obsolete

in their wake
these proud women
erase the hate
from words like

****
*****
*****

and reclaim equality
with a far more
comprehensive term

feminist
Jamie Riley Aug 2018
My mother tells me that we will
Never be friends.
Today I believe it.
Love poisons our blood
And familiarity kills
conversation.
I look at her emotionlessly
So to block her influence.
She is an expert at exploiting
The slightest ****** waver,
Or any emotional advantage she
Could have over you.
She will make you wrong
Through verbal martyrdom.

I won't let her speak to me
Like she does the weak who
Are too polite or too submissive
To fight her.
Her style of English is cutting,
Self-righteous, honest, rude, unscientific, emotional, aggressive and often violent.
Never elegant.
She thinks the world is a battleground.
She is often incompetent and on top of that headstrong - to compensate for her ignorance.
She is sometimes funny, and sometimes kind.
She tells me we will never be friends.
Today I believe it.
I will not confide. I will not smile.
I will not joke, I will not listen.
I will help but I won't speak.
I will keep the talk small.
We will never be friends.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
People who are more active
are less likely to think about cancer.

Choosing confusing reusing
is the answer.

Spanking your child
is unproductive and cruel.

We may have been wrong there,
But hey! William Singer can get the kid
into a better school.

Pools and ponds are okay,
but avoid lakes.

3 out of 5 doctors
prefer headaches.

Do you have a problem (?)
Take this pill.

But not for too long
'cause it can ****.

Don't eat eggs,
don't use butter.

You can eat eggs now,
but not with butter.

It's okay again to use butter,
just skip anything from Laura Scudder.

Girls with long legs and short tempers
make better lovers.

Boys always marry girls
who remind them of their mothers.

Do these 40 things
to be a better father.

That's so last year!
Why even bother?

Women who wear wicker
marry quicker.

Men who love their lawn mower
do it slower.

People who breathe through their mouth
as less likely to pick their nose.
Or so it goes.

50% of those polled
said "yes."

The other half shrugged
and wouldn't wager a guess.

We know it's a lot to process,
so just stick with us
and we'll guide you through...

more or less...?
Dyrr Keusseyan Jul 2016
Most people lost in trance,
No moral No virtue, none taking stance,
Corporations, profiling the masses for profit,
Wisdom, a lost art, never a conversation topic,

Most people  lost in trance,
Thinking, intellect seems active...  but at glance,
The masses follow but a single or many devils dance,
Compassion forbidden, ignorance in forever expanse.

Wickedness spreading even in a happy song,
The Path of Ancients, forgotten, what has gone wrong?
Spirituality always seen as an unscientific farce,
A pure state of consciousness, truly: a lost Art.

As a the masses defile, few seek purity,
All with masks on, fearing true reality,
Fools fooling fools, a vicious cycle,
Kings and pawns, dreaming of power and titles.

Lost in trance, for others amusement,
Greed seekers doing even the devil's recruitment,
Pollutants in all, mind, heart and body,
Lost in trance, devoid of potentiality.

A few fools, feeding on ignorance for money,
Truly, lost in trance, a lost humanity.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2017
two sudokus down, one pending, and the drinking is insatiable, peering into the stack of books, there's a copy of seven years in tibet and in start to wonder: what sort of interesting life should ever produce a book? the majority of me is asking: really? 7 years in 7 sittings of reading this?! who imagines writing a book, having "completed" an interesting life, does not imagine the majority of the readership, discarding the actual book, and being tibet bound... jealousy is such a cheap emotion, to be honest jealousy is the cheapest of all emotions, cheaper to pay a ******* for an hour's service, than take a fine girl to dinner; what, was someone expecting an "oops" with that?

i sometimes can't imagine the quality of pop,
it's not a pedantic "observation" -
it's just: well, could have done better,
but then again: you clearly couldn't have.
    i like rereading shakespeare and thinking
than minor additions would make the works
stand in greater clarification,
notably in shrapnel -
- 1st witch: why, how now, hecate?
you look angerly.
- hecate: have i not reason, beldams as you are,
saucy, and overbold? how did you dare to trade
and traffic with macbeth, in riddles,
and affairs of death,
  and i, then mistress of your charms,
   the close contriver of all harms,
  was never called to bear my part,
   or show the glory of our art?
such minor revisions, pedantic, of course...
i.e. - how did you dare to *trade and
make trivia
with macbeth -
      better still: trade & trivialise -
         and
   - in riddles, and in the affairs of death;
suppose we don't live in times
of man's "omniscience" etc.?
                but we do, and categorising ourselves
as such, we can only seem to test
knowledge via answering trivia question -
the triviality of knowledge oozes out
of game shows: where enough to be
knowledgeable is enough to known the most
encyclopedic set of facts...
    having to encompass all of man's
endeavours seems rather mundane...
             heidegger's aphorism 91 ponderings VI...
and the arrogance of writings maxims /
aphorisms...
        you read them as if they are basically true,
but then again: they're written as
propositions, rather than as presuppositions...
there's not a single word in the works
of nietzsche or la rochefoucauld
that supposes an observation to be true:
        a bit like the legal system dichotomy of
the english vs. the european courts:
  a. innocent until proven guilty, vs.
b. guilty until proven innocent...
                it's the ****** bombast of writing
maxims as propositions,
   there's no room for "error":
said content is: necessarily true,
                         but unnecessarily observed;
most of the time maxim notation is
an erosion of common sense, and subsequently
the killer proteins of alzheimer eating
away at the fatty tissue of the brain...
          mental exercise?
      who the hell wants a schwarzenegger's worth
of brain, i.e. exercise what?
           i don't like nietzsche's style precisely
because i don't like aphorisms or maxims...
          they're bombastic in assuming they're
true,
   i.e. once observed: forever replicated
to the same summa summarum...
  i think it's unsavoury to presume that one's
observations are fit for purpose of replica
observations taking hold of the reader...
if, perhaps, these aphorisms were written with
an overtone of presupposition,
             and left in the la la land of: supposing so -
they would be guarded by an element
of surprise...
                      an encroachment moment,
with an element of surprise...
         if only the loss of propositional bombast,
and the mediation of supposing-so,
   with an undertone of prepositional discretion...
stating the obvious in that stating
the obvious is stating an: unchallenged truth,
an unchallenged observation shared between
to people, well, aren't we talking about
  simply observing the perpetuated plagiarism
of what is "observed", without ever
deviating back into the "unobservable"?
       i believe that aphorisms (as a medium)
are plagued by a certainty inversion -
             sure, they're true, but they are also
true without a guarantee of replica -
                 for the most part they are placebo
ridden...
                and the only aspect of philosophy
that is unscientific...
                for the most part the style of writing
that's aphoristic is placebo,
        and not res replica...
           unless offensively forced - stereotyped.
if only the writing of an aphorism was
plagued by presupposing rather than proposing
a conclusive play on a voyeuristic act -
             the presuppositional attention to detail
would be tactful - and part of the cartesian
continuum...
             but propositional observations,
akin to making stereotypes, have no element
of founding one's thought in the cartesian dynamism
of doubt... there either is, or there isn't -
existentialism akin to the genesis in nietzsche
was born with the cartesian roller-coaster
of fusing an emotional regard for feeling,
i.e. doubt... negation being the prime ingredient
in existentialism, is oh so boring...
         ego negare, ego quasi cogito - ergo..
      i deny, i sort of think -
                                             therefore;
pretty obvious, we had to change the song -
we know so much already, in the current times,
that doubting would be pointless -
    doubting used to have a thrill of purpose
never being finalised,
   existentialism replaced doubt with denial...
so few things can be doubted,
   and when so few things can be doubted,
  we purposively lie, deny, lie, deny, to somehow
muster an origination of awe in emotive
experiences, which only bring failure -
  awe does not coexist with denial -
           you can't be in awe via purposively lying
to yourself...
  you can only seek awe by being forced
  into an emotional system of doubt...
but since existentialism eradicated doubt and replaced
it with denial...
     as already mentioned:
we deny, therefore, we sort-of think -
      we deny, therefore, we "think";
as the zeitgeist suggests - robotics, and other
forms of automation are taking over.
the argument still stands:
  if only the medium of writing aphorisms,
or succinct "truths" could be universally tested,
or at least universally observed as being true...
     if only there was a lost propositional(!) bombast
behind these pieces of writing,
or rather: a presupposition(?),
     since both approaches still converge in the realm
of supposes;
   a position is taken and one is for it -
while a supposing is given and one predates
it with a spontaneous unearthing of unnecessarily
having an opinion about it -
to presuppose is to not suppose -
since presuppositions are more archaic in always
being unforced observations,
  whereas propositions are enforced results
of having forced oneself to think: about something
with the end result of: a maxim,
or the extended maxim, i.e. an aphorism.
          - so who would actually want to make
language, and easy, and accessible, to the majority
of man?
          did not the power reside among
the priesthood who spoke latin, while the general
populace didn't?
   so why would anyone not decide upon:
speaking an english, within english,
   that the common englishman could not understand?
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2022
this is hardly a poem, it's a precursor musing -
that i am planning something
in the range of 5000+ words:

- a transcript of Kierkegaard's
concluding unscientific postscript
to philosophical fragments -
a mimical-pathetical-dialectical
compilation, an existential contribution
(february 28, 1846) by johannes climacus
    an extract...
- a translation of Szymon Starowolski's
Declamatio contra obtrectatores Poloniae
circa XVI...

not to mention that i'm reaching burn-out,
not to mention that:
well it's always nice to hear something
from your mother that can bed-rid you
for a few hours...

it sort of reminds of those Pearl Jam lyrics
from the song Animal
'i'd rather be...
i'd rather be with...
i'd rather be with an animal...'

sure as **** he comes into my bed...
i've changed which side of the bed
i'm sleeping on...
i don't know why i didn't think of it sooner...
usually on the right...
now, sleeping on the left...
ingenious move...
the mattress feels cooler...
obviously less indented... firmer...
and... at least this 10kg bonsai of a tiger
is just sleeping next to me...
rather than lodging himself
onto my thigh and treating me
like a cushion...

but this is before the plunge...
we're supposed to be these barbaric people
of the north...
depictions of hunting mammoths
and what not...
em... aren't elephants sort of domesticated
in India?
when the great migration took place
from the subcontinent via mother Siberia
toward the funnel of civilization that's
Europe... didn't we... perhaps...
take elephants with us?

didn't Hannibal? so i'm thinking...
you're up north... you hear about farming
from Egypt via some wandering "wizard"...
****... loads of forest...
so much forest that... well... beside hunting
and foraging... nearly impossible...
i should know...

when my next door neighbour put up a new
fence... the gardener / fence "expert" cut out
most of the vegetation from my garden so
it would be easier to put the fence up:
including my beautiful rosemary bush
'oh, didn't know' -
you pair rosemary with lamb! England
is famous for its ******* lamb!

- on a side note... you'd have to watch a
video by... Refika's Kitchen...
Turkish lavash / beef recipe...
with that onion side salad...
rosemary also works miracles with beef
with a side dish of sumac onions
and that cucumber yoghurt dip
(****, what's it called... tzatziki?!)...
yummy yummy thank you: not my mummy...
me!

anyway... he cut all the bushes, foliage, etc.
but... ha, ha... ha...
oh i had all the right tools...
a mechanical saw, a chainsaw...
a manual saw... a shovel... a small shovel...
a large fork... a small fork...
it took me about 3 months to clear the earth
from roots along the length of the entire garden...
we're talking 30 metres (circa)...
at least... ****... maybe 50 metres...
we're talking roots sometimes just a metre
apart... sometimes digging up a root would
take me... 5 hours... we're talking digging
to a depth of about 1 metre and coming
across the infamous London clay...

oh sure, Madame Tussauds - here's a mannequin
of Diana - princess of Wales...
never mind that the genius handyman
put the fence too high up...
my neighbour's **** garden was
doing an "empire strikes back" from beneath
the fence, morning glory was crawling though...
so i had to dig under the fence
and put dollops of cement under the beams...

great spring... so i'm thinking...
did we really hunt, mammoths?
well sure, we could have used horses...
we used horses to plough the fields...
now? we just breed them for spectacles: at the races...
otherwise... one of those species of animals
that have it: super ******* easy...
perhaps we used them to deforest areas
of Europe to create land for farming...
but... given the domestication of
elephants in India, given... Hannibal and his
elephants walking over the Alps...
personally? i think we used mammoths
to deforest this land to make
farming possible...
what happened to them afterwards?
what happens with anything that no longer
is necessarily used?
if it's a thing, it gets thrown away, or recycled...
if it's a creature...
it's usually eaten...
   perhaps a bad winter... culling of deer in Scotland...
for game meat...
but i don't think the mammoths simply "were"
out cohabitants in the north...
i suspect that we brought them over as elephants...
and by some "miracle" of Darwinism
the elephants mutated to have fur...

who's to say i'm wrong on this view?
Kierkegaard's conclusion to the unscientific
postscript will most certainly elaborate on
that...

both these transcripts will hint at what i have
already been thinking about...
objective thinking is "overrated":
no, more on the lines of: why is subjectivity
so wrong, when it's not properly understood
and only women are afforded its benefits
which become exploited in the most negative sense?

and... Szymon Starowolski's translation...
what i have already noticed about the English
tongue... but to think that this thinking was already
around in the world, in Poland, of all places,
as far back at the 17th century!

but to deforest so much land as to make it arable?
if we didn't use mammoths
then, hell... me must have used wishful thinking!
perhaps our ancestors had the power
of telekinesis!

so that the roots of old foliage have been dug up
by my hands...
the green party can ******* from me...
i also planted a fig bush,
a plum tree, two cherry trees...
an apple tree... a pear tree... o.k.?!
i'm done with all this carbon footprint *******...
i also moved the fern to a more shady
part of the garden... there's wild garlic
pulverising me with its scent that reminds
me of marijuana...
i reclaimed the rosemary... i have thyme &
oregano... plenty of mint...
a bay leaf bush...
                                         grr... i don't know why
i'm so... happily angry.
502 bypass: chopper / ups op. down
Refika's Kitchen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26tAVZKNJXI&t=219s
Sumac Onions: can only write one link, find it yourself.
Brent Kincaid Mar 2016
The Easter Bunny is a friend of mine
He used to lay his eggs in my back yard
But once I moved, it got to be too hard.
We’ve been buddies a long, long time.
It’s all my fault he visits me no more
He had to make it from Kansas to Nome.
That is far too long a trip for him
But, that is where I bought my home.

He was a pretty good old boy, indeed
For all his reproductive strangeness.
He was sort of like a football player
In a long lavender red carpet dress.
Harder to me, to accept whole cloth
Was what he had to do with Jesus.
But as a magic rabbit, for sure
He could lay eggs as he pleases.

So, every year during springtime
Here came my friend the bunny.
He’d **** out colored eggs, he did,
And nobody thought it’s a bit funny.
That he’s six feet tall, like Harvey,
Cusses like a sailor makes me laugh.
But that he is a Christian symbol is
Not really reasonable by about half.

Still, who am I to quibble about tradition?
It is fun for everyone at this time of year.
Along comes this unscientific miracle
And the kids smile from ear to ear.
They run around collect these eggs
That to me often looked rather scary
And do not question the bunny tale
Like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy.
Johnsdavidburg Jun 2018
when memory remembers
patterns of survival
in the bush in the wild
it feeds it defends
it leads species to dominance

when memory remembers
moments in specific
all distorted and faulty
in the world in the modern
it leads species to confusion

why memory remembers
is not what we remember
but how we survive
in a world of competition
it leads by what works

all truth is irrelevant
as we logically know it
in the wild in the bush
today is always the gift
tomorrow always the wish

             no matter specifics
    it's all about instincts
MicMag Aug 2018
The moon's not a crescent
It doesn't glow
It doesn't shine
It doesn't hang in the air
It doesn't show your love
Or mine

Blood moons? Not ******
Blue moons? Not blue
Super moons? Not so super
New moons? Anything but new

Superstitious? Full moons
Don't fill the earth with fright
Don't induce labor
Nor raise werewolves
In the night

No man in the moon
Hate to break it to you
Moon's mysterious myths
Mere legends
All untrue


These unscientific lyrics
Carelessly thrown around
What a load of crock!

The moon is nothing more
Than a cold empty sphere
A pale lifeless rock

And this just in
From all the moonlight lovers:
So is my soul, what a shock!
I remember when sleeplessness quelled the light,
I could feel consciousness flicker like a candle dies,
I should see The impossibility of human superposition,
I would know nothing and be totality in This juxtaposition,
The brain was in standby as I caught a glimpse of It without light;
I choose not to to through That Door,
May It haunt me evermore.

I shall explain why, I was reminded of something Alice's friend said: "Finally, they must agree that, if an opportunity to go over the threshold into death presents itself in the trance state, and they're tempted, for any reason, they are not to do so". Quite specific for a threat so vague
(considering the common-sense rules which did precede).

I dare not declare said unscientific thoughts
to be paltry to anything I believe in
but I did experience an event
detailed as a memory;
And so I say, I stayed
'cause I was trippin'
and far too afraid
.
You must let that emotion
wash over this rational poem
.
At present I don't believe in an afterlife
(out of pessimistic optimism
more than anything else).
I was close to finding out
but there was a chance I wouldn't come back.

Thank you Ann, (your words anchored me to this reality,)
Your contribution to the world will remain invaluable.
[Quote: Lines Eight to Ten from TiHKAL: The Continuation, P.255]

Psychonauts take heed, choice is yours, be well informed.
Chris D Aechtner Nov 2021
It's a downer to express the largest-scale tragedy of my lifetime

over and over again.

I've combed through 10,014 medical malpractice reports of young people who had been strong and without complication up until receiving the one-eyed technocratic snake bite that supposedly has nothing to do with their suspicious deaths,

I've gone through 25,117 autopsy reports (not every report: I scanned bunches of 250 reports in 10 groups of 25 reports or 25 groups of 10 reports at a time for very specific details, though I've read some of the reports 5 or more times) of elderly people who had survived world wars, epidemics, pandemics, and many outbreak and spikes, only to succumb within 72 hours of receiving whichever junk SGT inoculations that have nothing to do with their untimely deaths—

that occurred in North America
over a 2 week period.

I'm not supposed to talk about it.

I'm not supposed to express anything
other than expressions of agreement
that Delta variants and the unvaccinated
are killing the vaccinated

or express nothing at all.

I'm not supposed to express that I know the ingredients, and the processes involved to source ingredients, on chemical, molecular, cellular levels; that I know the MSDS and LCSS documentation, and patents, involved.

But, I do express it, just as I did again above.

When someone claims that their significant other didn't die from the shot that they had received within 24 hrs of dying,
I'm supposed to agree with the cheap, disloyal, dumbed-down, brainwashed, bootlicking, unscientific, pseudo-intellectual, spineless coward

who is hurting from losing a loved one.

I'm sorry.

I'm not supposed to express that we've known since 1991 that the synthetic chemical digitized mRNA, that isn't really mRNA, causes the host to spin-off variants of multi-drug-resistant and multi-vaccine-resistant super microorganisms—subtype variants of virions and bacteria that are often variants of variants of variants.

I'm supposed to stay zipped-up
or—encourage!—offer support
and congratulations to people
who are suiciding and committing
****** and euthanasia

without proper informed consent.

Be positive about it. Smile. Nod.

Have it be whatever you want it to be.
Use mockingbird skills to make it real— abracadabra!—it's en vogue, all the rage
to parrot percentages of efficacy,
to virtue signal over standing with
trillion $ industries and special interest
against Earth and humanity.
Insert cash money and mirages
into the soul-******* jukebox, baby.

Rage With The Machine.
Rage For The Machine.

Yesterday's false-positive
is today's false-negative.

Thomson Reuters will fact check you
into a cancer case to vindicate delusions, stubbornness, and negative pride.

I'm not supposed to express that within the principles and disciplines of medical ethics and the Hippocratic Oath, it's ethically corrupt and illegal to use political and emotional coercion, especially while simultaneously dangling fear over the intended target, to enforce/push any drug treatment, regardless of situation.

I'm supposed to use dope and *****
and a movie
to switch tracks
from my passionate obsession.

I watched a movie that included
a medical health scam to entrap the people
in a fashion similar to when the Germans believed that they were receiving vaccines
that helped to defend against typhus.

If we ever find ourselves in opposite sides
and positions as we are currently,
please offer proper informed consent
to the people.
11 16 2021

I immensely enjoy flying under the radar here, so to speak, find it to be freeing and empowering.

I generally don't like trendy stuff, though, some of the trendy stuff are some of the brighter, oddly cut gems.

I spent too much time losing myself in the subjectivity of others, basically answering questions that people are too lazy to explore for themselves.
Regardless of the pieces being good or bad, every piece that I've written during 2021 happened because I purposely didn't reply to a question.

For every boring, inane, counterproductive question that I don't answer, I write a new piece.

Aside from a few good friends, I'm pondering whether or not I should block accounts of people who I know from other venues and platforms, so that I'm not asked an overwhelmingly amount of redundantly inane questions again, as I'm enjoying the anonymity and peacefulness that I find here.

Especially because of the current states of affairs,
I generally don't like most humans anymore, but deeply love the few whom I cherish, adore, and respect unconditionally.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2021
the golden age of poetry is upon us, i'll say it outright,
it's not like poets have any high status in society
to begin with, they're not musicians,
they're not painters: a manuscript will not sell for
as much as a painting would:
it's a case of involvement:
what's to be invested...
                    let's rob the writers, scribblers of fiction,
let's: let's definitely rob the journalists...
esp. the editorial section typos for journalists...
let's rob them...
the comedians are in retreat...
people still don't cough up for our art...
like it was always supposed to be free... this, content...
me? i personally don't mind, i get my income anyways...
a debility check from Elizabeth II: well,
not herself... psychotic tripping since aged 21...
bilingual-schizoid quadratic sort of "thing"...
see... i always wanted to be organically attached
to this land...
i am: growing more & more detached from my native
Poland... although... ooh... the wintry air of central
Europe is unlike any other...
i'm also a crow watcher...
    ha ha... it's really funny... on the continent: at least
in Poland... crows tend to congregate,
they flock, once i sat through a mighty thunderstorm
while only spotting... a cloud of crows...
a Mongolian horde analogy...
the crows merge ranks with kafkas... vrona...
honest to god, they can become quiet intimidating...
a whiff of blood... they congregate
in the trees like hooded monks...
a legion of schwarzekreuze messerschmitts...
that's on the continent...
that myth... a legion, a cloud of crows will
arrive at the resurrection of Barbarossa...
but in England? weird... sure... you can sometimes
spot crows congregating in a tree...
but... how do crows travel in England...
they travel in pairs...
******* huginn & muninn...
no higher faculties than huginn (thought) &
muninn (memory): imagination can hide...
i need to think, i need to remember...
i need the theatre of memory since...
last time i checked... the worst "thing" i have ever
done was... **** a ******* silly...
well... stole a CD (queens of the stone age,
songs for the deaf) from a W.H. Smith...
i was just checking their apparatus...
i stole... copied the CD then put the original
physical copy in a different store...
what?!
  i also cheated in my second year at university...
some sociology course... the teachers stressed:
you work will be scrutinised through
an "a.i." (my ***) system to catch out plagiarism...
Thesaurus Rex... how i fiddled with the text
i inserted, i should have been playing a *******
violin for pennies on Westminster Bridge
i was that good... i was so good at plagiarism
employing the thesaurus tactic that...
apparently someone didn't write a computer programme
good enough: i bypassed it... got like a 90%+ mark
on the paper... it's sociology...
i was simply making up the marks
for the French i deliberately failed in my first year...
a French 3rd year major from Grenoble...
obviously she was going to break up with me...
like i broke the conditioning of my bony ****
of a hand... win win scenario...
but the golden age of poetry ought to be coming...
if the comedians are ******* off because of
cancel culture... some journalists might...
some will remain as makeshift gatekeepers of...
whatever's left...
to my leisured care for surprise...
i tend to read all philosophy books in my native
zunge, from Kant to Heidegger...
to Rousseau... i can't read philosophy in English...
but... there's always a ******* exception...
Kierkegaard...
i purposively stashed a postcard from Venice
in this book at this precise point:
hmm... subjective truth... isn't that the only truth?!
what, what sort of objective truth, what
sort of science are people expecting, these days?
water boils at 100°C... it freezes at 0°C...
happy? you want more? how photosynthesis works..
how trees reduce the amount of chlorophyll in their leaves
so that they turn yellow, brown from green
come winter: beloved of mine, season...
the air outside can act like a refrigerator...
no insects...
Concluding Unscientific Postscript...
the appendix... an understanding with the reader...
ahem.. Kierkegaard wrote in the 19th century...
you think we have "readers" these days?
with the readily available comment section?
you buy a book... sure... scribble some notes on
the sleeve... you think you'll hear from the author,
any time soon?
reader?! more like a ******* ******...
A FIRST AND LAST EXPLANATION...
maybe because Kierkegaard was a Dane...
that... reading him in English is as good as reading
him in ******...
but i will not read a philosophy book in English...
beside Kierkegaard...
don't know... my brain is sort of wired like that:
bilingual-"schizoid" & what not...
i just loved reading the rubric of pseudonyms
employed by this Dane...
either / or - victor eremita (Copenhagen,  feb. 1843)
fear & trembling - johannes de silentio
repetition - constantin constantinus
the concept of anxiety - vigilius haufniensis
prefaces - nicolaus notabene (noted well?)
philosophical fragments - johannes climacus

    blah blah... there might have been two more...
but... Kierkegaard can be read in English...
i wouldn't touch any English philosophers...
they're a poetic people, they're a musical people...
to hell with Locke...
the English are too practical,
are, to their shame, huh? egalitarian...
the English must be approached with
compliments, to shy away their vanity:
deservedly earned for their engineering prowes,
but when it comes to shepherding people?
they're... pretty **** at stating standards...
standards: no, necessary constraints...

i can't read philosophy in English...
in my native tongue...
is there a typo in the Kierkegaard
anthology by howard & edna hong...
this one  little word...
part upright part italic...
as it reads (reeds?)
  creating... is that how syllables work?
should it be done, thus:
cre-a-ting?

              oh, i'm in it for the LONG RUN...
finally... i wrote something circa 2016...
also titled it: circa 2016...
now it's getting traction...
i've also experienced some...
of the Streisand Effect phenomenon...
i have been banned... curated: for the better...
hello, herr cursor, hello herr. censor...

a ****** in England though...
my relation to this land...
i can absorb it... i can mesh with it...
i'm loving this land like a native might...
this... ******* DAMP... these overcast skies...
i can adapt... i don't require a Yorkshire lass
to compensate my libido lacks...

that i know how it works....
i'm looking at the numbers...
if i were making video content...
100K+ viewership...
i'm writing... i'm happy receiving 30K+...
you happy? i'm happy!
i get 40K+ views...

look at me...
people have made an effort...
to, read: to reed!
self-congratulatory applause:
clap... clap.. clap-clap-clap...

i know the game... the game is time...
i don't have a surname worth
remembering... it's not...
some -stein...
                        or a hot-
   -lear...

       not even Immanuel Kant....
i'm here.. to own my NAME...
my ナメ...

fair enough... the women will dive into Egyptiology
and the hieroglyphs of Emoji...
as i hope... men will look east... at Japanese /
Korean scripts....

ナラ (NA'H-RA'H) i.e. narazie..
i.e. see you later...

high hopes... no leftover ambitions...
what will be: will be...

any music from the 1980s... from the 1990s...
as long as it has a bass guitar prominence,
i can clearly forget the concept of
a rhythm guitar...
give me bass, give me drums...
gothic...

          eyes of the jungle nightmare -
shadow dance... a welcome break from
the cure or sisters of mercy....
this night deserves my awe.
Underneath Oct 2017
The greatest scientists
Are always heretics once.
Einstein is still annoying.
But Murphy saying
Everything will go wrong.
A universal law.
And we see it every day.
We do something great
And then can’t do it again.
Something goes wrong
And we go to get it fixed
So it magically works.
What is the source
Of this unnamed magic
Of unscientific observation
Becoming a guide to life?
Piper Calvey Sep 2020
Mine not yours and don't tell me otherwise
I loved him first for his genius ridiculousity, brilliant insanity
Idea:
two fleets of zeplins
the former carries ready made homes
the latter, bombs, set to carve craters just the right size to drop the homes into

I fell next for his spiritual science, new age pragmatism
Thought:
maybe all of us are intrinsically bound by a integral of gravity and that integral turns out to be love.

But I love him most for his heartache, his depth for melancholy
Feeling:
tired of being a wordsmith and mathematician and designer and sailor, prepared to instead become a part of Lake Michigan's great biology

What I'm still trying to love is his hope, relentless in optimism and downright unscientific. The thing that took him off that ledge. I'm glad for it but I cannot call it my own.
Dead Rose One Sep 2024
it’s early, a stilling stillness
everywhere a spilling,
earbuds enforce the silence
pushed off to one side,
to lay still,

&

let the music
gentle us
into
the
possibilities of the
day a~head,
before us with,
its many complications

three songs about the heart,
love lungs singing and ****
reminders that this loving,
    this unscientific unscripted
heart felt notion is but notional,

that heart
is a hard thing to use,
more complications than
mundane body parts,

I’m thinking
what is it,
a regulatory body,
a government,
a conspiracy of certain cells
of cells
to charge a toll
to let the blood be pumped
back and through,
that the billions
may live on

now after many decades
this decadent heart
wonders less what
is it about this
***** that we
breathers
believers
that we
ask so
much?

short sweet answer complete;
work forever
so that we
may never be
a too deaden
flower

and let us peddle our
poems like petals,
*and even petal them
roses to those whose
whose scent lives for
more than
ever
than
just
Kurt Philip Behm May 2019
My strength
Is that I am
Fundamentally
Unscientific
Not subject to the
Dissection
Of consequence
Or category
And not at the
Mercy
Of the scholastics
And nihilists
Who spend their days
Trying to reprove
That the whole is equal
To the aggregation
Of its parts

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)
Hank Helman Mar 2020
2%
Stop.

Stop clutching your stomach
When you think everyone is watching.

Stop escalating, spreading *******,
Unscientific Trump talk, ignorance isn't a gift.

Stop worrying. A 2% death rate. That's it.
Yes-- if we have to,
We will set up temporary hospitals in Walmart parking lots.

Stop watching. The news has one objective.
To sell ads. Fear is it's only priority.
Constant fear means constant commercials.
Fear is a form of elite control. The 1% want you
To be afraid every hour of every day.

Stop fearing death.
It is the only common experience
That we have.
It is natural, it will happen to you,
And to I,
And to your parents,
Your children,
Your pets and plants,
The tires on your bike.

Nobody knows what comes next.
So stay in the now.
Which isn't really the now,
But it's close.
You live all your life
About a half second in the past,
Which is close enough
Not
To fear anything ever again.

Stop your silence. You do have something to say.
An opinion.
Yes you do.
So vote for the world you want,
Not the one we are leaving behind

— The End —