Nothing belongs to you more
than your dreams.
Today my older grandson, the four year old,
Asked his mom,
“Who are you talking to when you’re talking to yourself?”
And it made me think a few things;
One, that the kid is bright and has a bright future
Two, that I sure never thought such things at four
Three, that it is a solid basis for a life of inquiry.
As Nietzsche so eloquently said,
“If you wish to strive for peace of soul and pleasure, then believe; if you wish to be a devotee of truth, then inquire.”
It gives me great peace of soul and pleasure
To know my grandson will be a devotee of truth.
(12/23/24)
loss will one day resurrect its sum ~ good news for most too bad for some
tough break for menippean efilists ~ living with sisyphus syndrome
three rotating helios monokus ~ eternally rolling stones
By David Kavanagh
Thanka Teacha everpleasant Notta Nietzsche
Abbreviatetta heart allowappreciatetta
Dedicated unabated gainstchaos wecreated
Unjoyous distrust insteadplease usyoumust
Stirringwildly obliged erringsochildly
Gladnesseye find myteachas wizeandkind
Hopefultoo succeed soulfulltrue awareindeed
Patientlyreaching out crazysaint teachingdevout
Protectfrom anabyss gazetoo hued spectrumbliss
Vessel gratefultobee schooled nestledcalmenfree
Nietzsche Say Today
I often wonder
What Nietzsche would say today;
Not be blown away.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran, Poet
and Philosopher
"Such mighty music from a single soul!
Ah, Wagner, you were superman until
Religion made your song effeminate.
Who can forgive your cowering 'Parsifal'!"
The old man's hands fell on piano keys,
But not into a chord. He saw the book
And touched it gently as he would a child,
And said, " You know I, too wrote good books once."
A worm of youth was gnawing in his brain,
Was eating up his passion's time and form,
Was spreading through his vision's final space
Its poisonous rest, its waste--oblivion.
I from the shell game turned away
For if I did not
I should follow the mad man into decay
Should my hands dripping red
With the guilt of sunset for the day
Or sunrise for the night
And come to the swaddling sea
And find
No ablution
For self growing from its husk
In all the manure I have created
I understood
How simple paradigm like a cross
Could challenge us
Challenge our worthiness of atonement
Did they lie
Or did he really
It is so upsetting to know the mad man's logic
How can God
Ever die
And what would be this existence then
I am not talking about my values
Rooted up
Like a fog and evaporated
Nihilism questions not only the truth of our dream
But the dream of our truth
And leave us with a silver-less rope
So kicked the shell against the sand
And left it there to become
Something in a rich child's bucket at play
Something to build our castles
Until the waves level the sands again
Existence precedes essence,
or so I've been told.
And living in the Aesthetic
one can choose to question, or not choose at all
and float effervescently oblivious into the cosmos.
One longs for moral prospects of Karmic law,
but absurdism reigns Almighty
and at the base finds something raw; esoteric.
Yet, at the core of every human lies the query of life.
There are no answers;
the urge to question is enough.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.