Since I don't write in here anymore...
Figured I'd post something eventually.
"A Re-Appraisal of Logic"
“The Re-Appraisal of Logic I.”
The world is not the world,
But a planet housing humans.
There are guns and knives regardless.
The smokestacks speak signals in Native tongues,
Saying, “Cuckoo, cuckaye, muldukduk, shimshwee.”
Everyone speaks this language. And nobody listens to it.
The earth is not the planet.
It is a name that was branded with murder,
A word someone loves in America,
A progression of the English language.
The ball of water burns.
The States are not the Country.
They are, rather, a convocation of nations,
Living amongst the poisoned soup of a melting pot
Warring with the carrots, boiling in the broth.
The country is not the country,
But a cunt-tree of sloth.
America is not the United States.
They are two entirely different beings.
One living, one dying.
Both dead dead dead,
And I’ve seen the United States choking Americans,
The residents of My Country.
From here on out the question becomes horrible simplistic:
Are you an American or a United States Citizen?
Do you straddle the federalist fence
Or fish amongst the Leaves of Grass
With Thoreau, with Whittier, with Whitman-
The only philosophers we’ve had?
1. Where are the common philosophers?
Are they building corporate palaces;
Cutting glass, scraping stone
Setting pillars in the ground?
They, on their balance beams, spill half the coffee,
Speak past the mortar mix, words stuck in cement.
Are their contractors illiterate? Can they read the anguished face?
2. What has become of the scholarly philosopher?
Has he come through the colleges of the States so United?
Or has his course been steered by the morals of peers,
The jeers,
The beers,
The girls in the rears-
Waking up nothing more than a secondary substitute teacher.
So then, is it true, that all philosophy students are destined to become recordings, not thinkers, regurgitating the backwards letters?
I am asking to many questions,
But what is to be expected of logical critique?
3. Finally, what has become of the daily philosopher?
Although the spoon is not the fork
And the fork no more than the spoon is the dish,
I am you, my friends, and every single one of you three
Are me.
I know this may come as a sudden and acrid shock to you
(Try not to spill the cereal on your laps as this lunchtime truth comes breaking fast)
But accept in your heart the simplicity of love,
The voracity of hatred,
And the connected synergy that engulfs this life
And recognize that at the cute and cuddly resolution of the details,
We are one, connected object, passing through time
Racing toward the future,
And recognizing each other over and over again.
That is what this is we are talking about.
And I have to say, “It works!”
As for the answers to my questions, you’ll find them in the back of the book, which you could have copied the whole time.
"A Re-Appraisal of Logic"
“The Re-Appraisal of Logic I.”
The world is not the world,
But a planet housing humans.
There are guns and knives regardless.
The smokestacks speak signals in Native tongues,
Saying, “Cuckoo, cuckaye, muldukduk, shimshwee.”
Everyone speaks this language. And nobody listens to it.
The earth is not the planet.
It is a name that was branded with murder,
A word someone loves in America,
A progression of the English language.
The ball of water burns.
The States are not the Country.
They are, rather, a convocation of nations,
Living amongst the poisoned soup of a melting pot
Warring with the carrots, boiling in the broth.
The country is not the country,
But a cunt-tree of sloth.
America is not the United States.
They are two entirely different beings.
One living, one dying.
Both dead dead dead,
And I’ve seen the United States choking Americans,
The residents of My Country.
From here on out the question becomes horrible simplistic:
Are you an American or a United States Citizen?
Do you straddle the federalist fence
Or fish amongst the Leaves of Grass
With Thoreau, with Whittier, with Whitman-
The only philosophers we’ve had?
1. Where are the common philosophers?
Are they building corporate palaces;
Cutting glass, scraping stone
Setting pillars in the ground?
They, on their balance beams, spill half the coffee,
Speak past the mortar mix, words stuck in cement.
Are their contractors illiterate? Can they read the anguished face?
2. What has become of the scholarly philosopher?
Has he come through the colleges of the States so United?
Or has his course been steered by the morals of peers,
The jeers,
The beers,
The girls in the rears-
Waking up nothing more than a secondary substitute teacher.
So then, is it true, that all philosophy students are destined to become recordings, not thinkers, regurgitating the backwards letters?
I am asking to many questions,
But what is to be expected of logical critique?
3. Finally, what has become of the daily philosopher?
Although the spoon is not the fork
And the fork no more than the spoon is the dish,
I am you, my friends, and every single one of you three
Are me.
I know this may come as a sudden and acrid shock to you
(Try not to spill the cereal on your laps as this lunchtime truth comes breaking fast)
But accept in your heart the simplicity of love,
The voracity of hatred,
And the connected synergy that engulfs this life
And recognize that at the cute and cuddly resolution of the details,
We are one, connected object, passing through time
Racing toward the future,
And recognizing each other over and over again.
That is what this is we are talking about.
And I have to say, “It works!”
As for the answers to my questions, you’ll find them in the back of the book, which you could have copied the whole time.
- The common philosophers are soil, by now.
- The scholarly philosophy has choked on the mold of his textbook.
- The daily philosopher has narcolepsy.