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"zizek" poems
you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak, well, attire me in slavic myths and i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too for a helium bubble to become a comedian, i know a jittery ******* addiction when i see one... if one thing the catholic schooling system taught me was how to avoid sniffing glue and how to recognise a Freudian apostle - still, with all the hippy **** you'd think sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism prescribed with paracetamol, catholic education just said: no no. **** me it's the late 90s and we're talking post-Chernobyl antics... but that's how i see the left, leftist politics, the right                utilises prefixes and suffixes in the old stance of simple pre- pro-                                     anti-                                             qua-                                                                -so so... the left? oh they're right in there... their prefixes are                                 Marxist- liberal-                                          Hegelian-              whatnot...                                                 they don't use abstract prefixes,                                           their prefixes are concrete,                         they want the porridge in their mouth to ensure a slur that never comes, among a range of onomatopoeias they argue from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd, via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother, ****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method; i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo experimenting, it's called experimenting with thought rather than practising with will, former no chance of footstep evaluation for cult status imitable -                                       the left intellectual has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro - it has to be concrete layered and a shut off perfect architecture without fault - it can't be what it is -                                       con- has to be conservative                                                   pro- has to be socialist                                      you once said legitimate transparency - but you didn't say legislation - well, the left understood it as legislation, the right too wanted legitimate transparency - the green party said we could have neither but could have the replanting of a thousand oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest... b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye - hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's fingernail toothpick! at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes! ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding! *** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!
0
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
i don't talk
you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak, well, attire me in slavic myths and i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too for a helium bubble to become a comedian, i know a jittery ******* addiction when i see one... if one thing the catholic schooling system taught me was how to avoid sniffing glue and how to recognise a Freudian apostle - still, with all the hippy **** you'd think sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism prescribed with paracetamol, catholic education just said: no no. **** me it's the late 90s and we're talking post-Chernobyl antics... but that's how i see the left, leftist politics, the right                utilises prefixes and suffixes in the old stance of simple pre- pro-                                     anti-                                             qua-                                                                -so so... the left? oh they're right in there... their prefixes are                                 Marxist- liberal-                                          Hegelian-              whatnot...                                                 they don't use abstract prefixes,                                           their prefixes are concrete,                         they want the porridge in their mouth to ensure a slur that never comes, among a range of onomatopoeias they argue from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd, via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother, ****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method; i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo experimenting, it's called experimenting with thought rather than practising with will, former no chance of footstep evaluation for cult status imitable -                                       the left intellectual has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro - it has to be concrete layered and a shut off perfect architecture without fault - it can't be what it is -                                       con- has to be conservative                                                   pro- has to be socialist                                      you once said legitimate transparency - but you didn't say legislation - well, the left understood it as legislation, the right too wanted legitimate transparency - the green party said we could have neither but could have the replanting of a thousand oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest... b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye - hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's fingernail toothpick! at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes! ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding! *** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!
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70
I do not think it’s important to do I think I would rather just think I’ll think about all of the books and the arts And even my own kitchen sink I’ll think about how the world's gone wrong And all the injustice I see I’ll contemplate everything and then think some more When I eat, when I sleep, when I *** There’s so much to do, so little time But there’s also just so much to read How can I know if my actions are good If I don’t know where my motives lead I stare at the corkboard in university square Ten thousand calls to action thereon I think and I think about which is best I’m sitting there thinking till dawn Perhaps Marx was right, and all of these causes Save one, economic, is right Perhaps all the rest are just there as distractions Keeping us home from the fight But then again, perhaps that’s not true Perhaps they all DO need some help Perhaps each struggle for justice is just Lets save all the whales and the kelp But I think, I think, I don’t know what I think But I’ll know when the thinking is through And when I’m done thinking I’ll have an Idea That will dump all my thinking on you. I think that this thinking ‘round which I center my life is really a tool of The Man And I think that they think that I’ll lay down my knife To think about my empty hand And I think that it's working because I don’t fight Rather, I sit here and think I think about all of the books and the arts And even my own kitchen sink I think about why I think what I think I think about why I exist I think about why they all hate them all I think about why they enlist But I never stop them, I just don’t have time There’s really just too much to do When I finish this Zizek I’ll move on to Sartre And then, I’ll read Heidegger too I look at a billboard and think to myself That’s propaganda He wrote I give it no notice and keep walking by Give it barely a mental sticky-note But ten thousand billboard and ten thousand signs Now that stops me dead in my tracks I look at them all, and analyze each Criticizing their mindsets; false facts Too many opinions too many books made far too open, too free I sit, I absorb, don’t know what to do As people die not blocks from me I’m lost in the maze of my ivory tower Trying to get to the top To get to the cheese that I know I can smell And regardless, by now I can’t stop I think revolution at graffiti strewn walls What who when how I should fight And cries of black children beaten by cops Go unheard by my ears each cold night.
0
Jan 7, 2011
Jan 7, 2011 at 7:41 PM UTC
jake-lerner
I Do Not Think
I do not think it’s important to do I think I would rather just think I’ll think about all of the books and the arts And even my own kitchen sink I’ll think about how the world's gone wrong And all the injustice I see I’ll contemplate everything and then think some more When I eat, when I sleep, when I *** There’s so much to do, so little time But there’s also just so much to read How can I know if my actions are good If I don’t know where my motives lead I stare at the corkboard in university square Ten thousand calls to action thereon I think and I think about which is best I’m sitting there thinking till dawn Perhaps Marx was right, and all of these causes Save one, economic, is right Perhaps all the rest are just there as distractions Keeping us home from the fight But then again, perhaps that’s not true Perhaps they all DO need some help Perhaps each struggle for justice is just Lets save all the whales and the kelp But I think, I think, I don’t know what I think But I’ll know when the thinking is through And when I’m done thinking I’ll have an Idea That will dump all my thinking on you. I think that this thinking ‘round which I center my life is really a tool of The Man And I think that they think that I’ll lay down my knife To think about my empty hand And I think that it's working because I don’t fight Rather, I sit here and think I think about all of the books and the arts And even my own kitchen sink I think about why I think what I think I think about why I exist I think about why they all hate them all I think about why they enlist But I never stop them, I just don’t have time There’s really just too much to do When I finish this Zizek I’ll move on to Sartre And then, I’ll read Heidegger too I look at a billboard and think to myself That’s propaganda He wrote I give it no notice and keep walking by Give it barely a mental sticky-note But ten thousand billboard and ten thousand signs Now that stops me dead in my tracks I look at them all, and analyze each Criticizing their mindsets; false facts Too many opinions too many books made far too open, too free I sit, I absorb, don’t know what to do As people die not blocks from me I’m lost in the maze of my ivory tower Trying to get to the top To get to the cheese that I know I can smell And regardless, by now I can’t stop I think revolution at graffiti strewn walls What who when how I should fight And cries of black children beaten by cops Go unheard by my ears each cold night.
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