Recently in Philosophy Category

I do not believe in religion,
but I do believe in religion,
I know that it exists,
but not how you choose to listen.
I pray for understanding
but my writing's full of twists,
I avoid confrontation,
oh, how I enjoy our little tiffs.
I do believe in peace,
yet I do not believe in peace,
I admit it!
I do not believe in quitting,
but if you're smoking,
Quit it!
Did not want to go in this direction.
I did it!
This isn't a metaphor,
I guess this is a metaphor,
I exhibit all things that Uni has in store.
I like it when it's clean,
I like it when it's dirty,
are you to assume what like means for me?
I don't believe in guns,
but I tend to find them cool,
I think she should wipe her mouth,
yet I'm overly excited when she drools.
I don't care if you accept me,
I care if you reject me.
I know you see where I'm going,
so you see me when I'm coming,
I prefer to let it all go,
there's certain things I'm holding.
Don't enjoy too much heat,
but I like to make it burn
I stay calling people hopeless,
when I hope they fucking learn.
I definitely, maybe, am
a contradiction of terms.

1. I think not, for there I am.
2. Some dreams I don't remember. In others I am more emotive-angry, scared or nervous; confused. These I write down. These are the dreams I pursue.
3. Say something I haven't thought of before, anything remotely that begs for more. Is there anything else in store?
4. Designed life to defeat my fears.
5. Someone tell me where I went wrong, so I can find the words to this song. Please tell me how I was born, with no light to write on.
6. Overwhelmed for a moment, walls of the universe closing in, recognizing fear. Saw my inner-child, who couldn't walk. Took another step, realized I've done it all before.
7. Of course I'm annoyed, I and 44,000 still unemployed, can no one to fill this void? My taxes bought two new stadiums, and how many new jobs? How come I got the feeling I've just been robbed?
8. never do anything you can't do twice. accomplish one thing. you've accomplished them all.
9. Dear Writer: Do you believe in aliens? She replied: Dear viewer, I've lived amongst your kind so long, I hardly know what it means anymore.
10. I crash landed on the planet in a ball of metal and fire. Her planet. A land less strange through her hazel eyes. Earth was fun for a time.
11. Bit into Life, juices dripping down my chin, small chunk of what's yet to begin. Future victory flag waving, no DeLorean. Lose die born win.
12. She wrote and they breathed. She spoke and they danced. Then and there, Uni decided to compose her greatest verse ever. The Uni verse.

1. Most fascinating about Einsteins theories is they're based off observations that can only be made using 'God-like power'. God science.
2. A wretched hag, the stench of alcohol seeping from her skin, spitting on the train floor through missing teeth pouring gibberish. And I think she was hitting on me.
3. Just for her, opening arms wide, heart beating so fast as I confide, feelings as true as love can be, wondering if I should ask her to marry me.
4. So vivid is the pain, so cleansing is the rain, as broad as the astral plain, dreams demand I do not refrain, screaming stop at nothing, and so I became.
5. I used to give my seat up for strange women, but now there just seem to be too many of them. Choosing one doesn't seem fair.
6. Unpacking, while teba snacking, kinsen sipping while shumai dipping, love all that happens, see the lips smacking
7. Determined faces, their eyes locked on an invisible destination. Annoyed, frustrated, confused, human obstacles unseen by one another.
8. And I wonder: in the essence of being, what is meaning, mean?
9. Simply impressed by something you do, startled to see you shining out the clear blue, a star in broad daylight, clearly seeing a rare sight.
10. Eating a cockroach hidden in your meal can turn you off any food. And long after, you'll always distrust a texture that seems too crunchy.
11. All my life flows seem to weave into one, gleaming relevance as bright as the sun, pondering what's foretold before time begun

Copyrights were meant to protect a human's intellectual creation from theft,
which isn't quite the same as ownership.
Somehow we forgot this and are run amok,
with these false entities laying claim to the what humans build.
Corporations lawyer up and stake claims the world over,
seeking ownership of every notion and ideal and even the natural,
that belongs to the people.
When they themselves are ideals,
incorporation, creations of human ingenuity.
And I am sick of them laying claim to my legacy.
I am human and I will claim my destiny.

1. Angels are flying so low, but no means no, I grab the cross bow, and i let the angel know, i'm not ready to go.
3. After sitting in silence at the table for over an hour, we started packing. Nothing else could be said. No one wanted to work anymore.
5. After acing all of those advanced technical exams, who'd ever think I would end up living in la la land.
7. Everyone lies to themselves, mind as well do it on something you like. I'm not judging, it's just, you don't seem to enjoy go-go dancing.
9. Only by stringing the tiniest moments together, can I ever experience its pleasure. this must be the key notion behind the pogo stick
11. Father says we're made to upgrade our existence. It may take constant revision but I will be victorious.
13. First thursday 2010: Discovered that love is forever. It lasts always, long after lovers leave. Love is my gift. It belongs to me.
15. Eventually Futuregirl got her refund. So did millions of others who were promised '3D' but instead received jazzed up modes of 2D.
17. I'm inclined to believe Futuregirl. I mean, she is from the future, after all. Put another way, would you follow 15 year old jesus or 33 year old jesus (more futuristic version)
19. Writers. You may recognize them as the ones that always have to have the last word.
21. Here comes the night shift-my back surges, neck broadens & fangs rip through my jaws. I scream, unleashing the terror. I am the darkness.
23. If there's one certainty in the universe it's that someone's getting a good laugh out of life on Earth.
25. sometimes your stride isn't enough. Your foot stretches and your shins burn. And the only option left is to run
27. Blizzard of a day, I can't wait to write, aching to get inside like impending frostbite.
29. I feel it in my heart beating a tune sublime. My life pulses with the force that makes stars shine. The glow is human. We are one of a kind.
31. If you don't give your dreams wings, you'll never fly.

I have no control over what my mind thinks, an idea arrests-then vibrates my brain matter. Sometimes, it goes places that are quite uncomfortable. And I'm stuck living this way.

No, Santa isn't likely to be bringing any inspiration. Because he doesn't exist. He was created through a series of stories and images that...do exist. Hm. It seems I have confused notions of reality once again. Moving on..

I believe when we're empty we have nothing to give. Intrinsically, I mean, at a very basic level, we are a combination of things we have absorbed. In every way, often in ways we never notice, we somehow give out the ingredients that were put in. In no being is this more prevalent, nowhere is it no more important, than in a creator.

A creator takes the things she sees and tastes, using every bit of her senses to absorb the world she observes, synthesizes it and remixes it as something new and vaguely familiar.

Those things that come in, those inputs we call inspiration. All human creators are inspired in some way by the same experiences. Circumstances vary greatly between individual lives. By definition, those that share the Human Experience do not treat inputs exactly alike.

But no matter the walk of life, certain inputs inspire fight or flight. A Hollywood star is inspired to laugh just like a custodian. A King knows fear just as well as Joe Sixpack. Creators that seek inputs, those motivations and inspirations, in the hopes that they can make something new are artists.

Using life's inspirations to exist in a world exactly the way it is when you arrive is a waste of precious time for true artists. We want nothing more than to be weaving, programming, crafting, and creating or finding inspiration to do so. We're not sure life would be worth it if we couldn't.

Artists that make new artstuff with enormous speed and stark variance from anything known, we call genius. While she who does more of the opposite, we call Hollywood producers. Either way, without those inspirational inputs, there would be nothing to output.

As a literary artist, it's my duty to seek out inspirations, wherever they may be. It just so happens that New York City is one of those places that makes artlife so much easier (beyond a walk down a city street rife with source material). Here's a few on my list for the month of December09:

MoMA : Tim Burton

In 1989, Tim Burton directed a film that forever changed my view of the world, garnered a lifetime of respect for Michael Keaton and inspired my first tattoo. Need I say more. On show through April 2010 (da future)

The MET : The Art of the Samurai.

In the world of, The Guardians, the dominant self defense and warfare tactic very heavily resembles Samurai weaponry and culture. I don't know what I'm more ashamed of, having never visited Japan or not having been to check out this exhibit yet. October 21, 2009-January 10, 2010

Cirque Du Soleil - Wintuk

The woman are extremely flexible, the guys have Gambit like agility and there are pretty colors. And the women are very flexible. October 21, 2009-January 10, 2010

Until further notice,
I'll borrow your soul,
to paint these images.
I'll ravage your body,
to feed shallow intentions.
I'll degrade your character,
to serve the end I'm after.
I'll suspend your thoughts,
to sell goods I've wrought.
I'll drain your essence
and bask in your absence.
Love to watch you paint your face,
and show you believe in my case.
I can pay a salary with full benefits,
all I ask for is a child's innocence.
I'll inspire your culture with unique difference,
peace throughout the world, good riddance.
I know what you want is edgier television,
I'll remove the need for you to make a decision.
I'll trade you intimate privacy,
for power as far as my eyes see.
I'll make it seem silly for all to be healthy,
for the sake of keeping the economy wealthy.
There's life, there's death and then there's taxes,
sing my guarantee they belong in the same brackets.
I'll keep your schools safe from drugs,
and make sure that alcohol is in great supply,
if you allow me to make nicotine safe to buy.
I promise to give you something to love,
as long as you subject it to what you're afraid of.
I promise to make sure your dreams remain so,
shh, sleep, there's no where to go.
And for any and all who you show this,
I promise to give it all back, when you notice.

They say home is where the heart is.
I say that's where the gun lives.
Sometimes where the son lives.
Always where the sun is.
Home is the blue orb spins.
Home is one where all is.
All that matter that is.
All that matters, that is.
Home is origami folds.
Home is kamikaze rolls.
Home is bright hue rainbows.
Home is intercontinental ballistic missile shows,
schizophrenic jaebi flows.
Home is cold winter toes,
Home is revenge against foes.
Home is depth where no man goes,
death where all men go,
as sure as life that glows,
poetic rivers flow,
switch it across skin and scold the bold,
where whelps bathed in sin never mend.
Home is where I start this,
art embedded heart lives,
where the literary artist is,
me.

Yawning,
Good Morning!
In dreams we be touring,
so up-on wake I'm soaring,
your reality is boring,
american idol snoring,
like my remote on islands,
ever hear silence,
hovercraft over ground,
frowns upside down,
joy not in name but sound,
all who want gather around,
we all wear a crown,
I never let me down,
never say unless I'm down,
so ready to get down.

I'm falling in love with this woman,
I have yet to meet.
Our relationship is a silent one.
It began when I was a child,
and grew stronger in no time.
Our bond,
a series of unspoken agreements,
inherit in who we are.
I am a fool,
for giving her my heart,
when I do not know her name.
But see her through my eyes,
and you can understand my pain.
When she first walked into the room,
my eyes lit up.
Everything I imagined a woman could be,
she was.
Soft, elegant, her presence put air at ease.
I would have done anything to have her.
Eyes like an oasis,
assuring me,
thirst no longer.
I knew then, that I could marry her.
With each step,
her body seems to grow,
take new form and shape,
one woman comprising so many things.
Supple wine,
soft, lush, velvety, and very attractively round and tasty.
I want so badly,
but I can say nothing.
Happily, I don't need to.
She knows what I know.
She is my vision and I am her reach.
Marriage is beneath us,
cut from the same cloth.
I know what that little smirk on her face means.
I know how long her skirt will rise on her thigh,
before she unconsciously pulls it down into place.
I close my eyes and remember her aroma,
just her skin, naked breath, nature of her hair.
I need her fragrance everywhere.
And her flavors ignite my passion,
unlike all the rest.
She sits across from me,
treating me like a toy,
play thing,
different games ward off the mundane.
She will not complement my deficiencies,
but augment my proficiencies.
We get better together.
I fall in love more and more,
everytime I see her.
I'm excited to discover what's in store.

And how about you young man? What do you wanna be when you grow up? 'I want to be a wordsmith'. Everyone laughs. The teacher too. Soon after, he killed them all. When it was quiet, he would laugh. No one knew what he had been planning. It was his secret. It disturbed women, made them wary. They could never claim silence, because his was quietest.

It was so simple, the method to his means. The meaning to his end, was as if it never started. It catches on, a latent disease of the mind. Anywhere men dwell, is everywhere men fell. Lines crossed, towers crumbled, and they all take a breath of fresh air. All from the beginning, remember? All from a child.

He was a wordsmith. He always smiled. Not for the rhyme, there was no reason. He just thought it all funny. Here, some would scream treason. But he would not last, he was an outcast. Never one soul, never one goal, always under control of, himself and someone else. A puppet to fate. He could not avoid, 'being great'.

He thought to think. He thought not at all. Leaving the world with a silly sigh. When they laughed, inside he cried. When they wept, his belly chuckled. Because of what he believed. The notion that everything is nothing.

Her body a canvas. When the brush was offered, I knew I was a painter. She became my art. I became her desire. The brush caressed. 'Nice to meet you.' i inspire.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I say the dark, in no trust do I keep. So if I die, before I wake, know that it was for the light, I did not take.

Thinking, thinking, always thinking. Bliss is it to cease contemplating or concentrating on the times, or the blatant meaning between the lines, painstaking, fault, is it yours or mine. Thinking, always thinking on how to free the mind