philosophy is not...
some full-loss-of-fee nor
a full-loss-of-why
and
it also be not...
a full-loss-of-tickle nor
a full-loss-of-eye
its
cycle-logic-call means...
a full-sophist-tree perspective
wrt reality thoughts full-of-soap-eh!
len
The curious mind is an endless flame,
That facts and truths cannot tame.
For knowing is powerful, sharp and clear,
Helping to adapt, learn and face the fear.
But knowing comes with a heavy cost and toll.
More questions to answer, more doubt to control.
But not knowing, too has its place.
For ignorance is bliss to engrace.
Where the mind lets go in free-fall.
In relief, in surrender, to just enthrall.
Knowing, sometimes it's better not to know.
To lie spaced-out, where turmoil won’t grow.
For though we claim to want to know more,
In the shadow of the knowledge door,
Lies our pull-back, and strain to resist,
Over-reaching beyond the canny twist sophist.
Thinker, scholar, sophist; Duns was, yet, a humanist,
His thoughts actions exhibited him as true philanthropist…!
Constructing a metaphysical argument, he said,
Of the existence of God, that like rivers moves ahead…!
Aristotle or Aquinas need not be great masters,
When divine decree, like creation, does all things alters...!
A Franciscan priest and theologian, he explained,
The Immaculate Conception, with due coherence gained...!
Theology should be a sensible science of God,
Human beings should find love of Trinity never flawed...!
He differentiated faith of heart from thought of head,
Added tinges of humanity, and true love did spread...!
By John Paul II was John Scotus Duns canonized,
For metaphysics with Christian faith, he is eulogized...!
18 March 2022
John Duns Scotus Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
The magazine cover page had a picture
Strange,
Out of the norm.
All those expositions of creative writing
are not pure and divine, nor sober as well.
A hypothetical extravaganza of law-breaker laws.
There is no validity of empty or full glass
No chance of any logical input , there.
Breaking that glass introduces the possibility
Ultimate materialization of the ulterior climax
Little to do with a softer pencil mark
No way to erase that either.
Permanent stains, long-lasting, durable.
Sophist hallucination of a strange life
One cannot deny anything through escapism
Thinking aloud, Thinking a lot.
But then, why me?
I am just nobody
With a sky darkened with ages of improbable fall out.
Perhaps, there is not much left
But to be red through emotions,
red like blood. Red, a hot-headed color.
My meager plate gets lost with
innumerable calculations of priorities...
and the room floor with hypothetical extenuations
everything, everywhere.
A series of happenings of world with no far-reaching continuity
A groaning pain of a hopeless night, and a day too.
Thinking aloud, thinking a lot.
man
logic, rationality
working, loving, generating
sophist, politician, beast, instint
hunting, moving, eating
sensitive, illogical
animal
Now a day's I find everywhere
good advice from everyone
-at an office, at a dramatic stage,
-at the political stage, at night talk show on TV
-at a speech of Friday Masque,
Or at every religious place
-at a crowded bus
-at rail junction or at bazaar conversation
Where I go find and hear good advice
Now a day's our generation is really
concerned for good something
-at the poetic pensive diction
-at the rational syntax of littérateur
-at the argue of a sophist
-at the eloquence of eloquent
Every I stay with good knowledge
and carry good advice something fresh
Now a day's
You, he and I are good counsel!
By this way we and everyone love to write and speak
the something good and goodness only,
like to advise others barefacedly!
But forget that advice for the time of self doing
when everyone is asked to implement
and walked perversely by the lane of a lame excuse!
-07.05.2018 Chattogram
Look at the stars, look at how they shine for you and everything you do
- Coldplay - Yellow
ASTRAL DISPOSITION
The twizzle etchings in the Winter sky, electrifying,
those sparkling spectators of spectacular spin —
the height, the depth, velocity is riveting
and it’s all for you, my Dear
Millions of miles away, rambunctious smiles, applause —
serenade of plucking wings, society of carefree things
and it’s all for you, my Dear
With sophist swag, quill and ink — destiny curves,
loquacious cursive of psaltery stars
and it’s all for you, my Dear
Integrity and grit — eternity’s candlelit, luminous flames
of red, orange and green, yellow, white and blue
and it’s all for you, my Dear
2/15/2020
Famous poetic lines 3 - Love songs Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Pedants fume helpless and seethe with rage,
But linguists surrender to the age,
Media always misuse
Commoners to confuse,
But rage not, time has turned a tired page.
______________________________________________________
It is the age of freedom, free for all. Words are used any which way. Grammar ultimately follows usage. Take epicentre. It may sound a bit grander than just centre, but it is used only in context of earth-quakes. But media prefer epicentre in all contexts— political, social, economic, any. Pedants and classicists and linguists may boil with rage. But dictionaries will ultimately capitulate and compromise. So, make no fuss, or you will be called doctrinaire, worse, obscurantist or obfuscator, or in the worst case a nit-picker hair-splitter. Alas, you thought you were a sophist and a scholar!
______________________________________________________
Tongue-in-cheek |05.05.14 |
When I'm pining for the power to yield
Breaking all the branches I seize
Acres for the taking in a forest of mistakes
I can't see for the trees
I level
With the shallow playing field
Dreaming up a blueprint to floor you
Delicately drafting
Inconspicuously crafting
The grand facade before you
Where my art lies
The best is underwhelming
When it comes to helping
How I promised I woul...
So I'm peeking past the pitch of my prime
Modeling the modern stage
Perforating patience with a paradox
In place of where the sophist meets the sage
I level
With the hallowed bottom line
Hopeful like the point of a nail
Architecture fractures
In apocalyptic rapture
Where false frameworks prevail
There my heart lies
The beat is overwhelming
When it comes to helping
How I swore I could
I guess I'm knocking on wood
Knock knock knocking on wood
Excess
Will not lead to progress
Will not let me access
What I learned I should
Rid me of
Termites
Crawling into airtight
Trademarks of my disguise
Make me decide I'm good
When I'm just knocking on wood
Knock knock knocking on wood
Knock knock knocking on wood
© Michal Czechak 2016
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 25
Followers are made from day one in the womb
Not gods but by men in the full-length skirt
Pavlov mice all salivate stunned stark in tomb
Do not men in frocks drive terror promise doom
Those who heed not words they stuff into gods first
Followers are made from day one in the womb
Can honourable men raise gods from the tomb
Invite them back to earth slake believers’ thirst
Pavlov mice all salivate stunned stark in tomb
Who split their gods’ words plunge followers in gloom
Make dissenters fight staunch believers first
Followers are made from day one in the womb
Sexless men tear each other under own dome
Then order robot men to give up the ghost
Pavlov mice all salivate stunned stark in tomb
Who forbids men from praying under one dome
Don’t middle-men stoked by sybarite Sophist
Followers are made from day one in the womb
Pavlov mice all salivate stunned stark in tomb
- End of Part One –
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
When I opened my eyes, Mum’s love as my first sight
Those everlasting enjoys, Wrapped in a loving mist
laughing all with joys, Running to be a specialist
Unaware of the future ploys, of those so called sophist
Got to play with new toys, found it was so rhythmist
Thrill, adventure and killjoys, with the feelings of revolutionist
The day has come to deploy, proud to got shortlist
had a target to destroy, a country with our relativist
A heart’s true, pure, deep voice, somewhere it exist
A little internal noyes, saying not to be racist
The first victim were boys, those innocent civilist ,
Those blast of cries, oh how can I be such a demonist
A never ending sighs, hurt so much in the heart midst
The sad feeling why, coming to a mind of shootist
The last breathe of my, tears and pains with a tongue twist
Hey I don’t want to be the guy, who is named as a terrorist
Oh my God in the sky, do me a favor if you ever exist
I wanna spread the peace and joy, in my new life as a humanist
Hey I don’t wanna be that guy, who is named as a Terrorist
Hey I don’t wanna be that guy, who is named as a Terrorist
that I am.
that I never
wish to change.
limitless is my
range.
---
a sophist in
solitude,
is
a
happy me.
a sophist may
always be poor of
money.
a sophist can dream
all day,
nothing might get done,
who demands something
must?
---
a sophist is
intuned.
accurately intuned.
many others
may never understand,
as I will not too.
---
a sophist stares,
what are you thinking?
they ask,
are you ok?
yes,
a sophist is just
fine
There was truly nothing left to do in this place ?
But try and paint since joy as dreams had vanished
Her novelty slipped away ? A pendulum of vague slicing
Through time's wreckage left drifting atop florids sophist sea..
Deciphering her silkworms cocoon; spun amid a glissade of words.
O when I am safe in my mobile home,
I tread on the pride of visible gnome;
Over sapien’s head I walk aloft,
With tender feet treading so soft,
To habit in, and it more fairly dight,
With cheerful grace and amiable sight.
And when I am stretched beneath the pines,
When the evening moon so brightly shines,
I laugh at the love and pride of man,
At the sophist schools, and the learned clan;
For what are they all, in their high conceit,
When man on the mountain with God may meet?
My Sophist self hardly entertains the idea of air
and space is too immense, to damn big to occupy.
I project myself into the world, meet a friend
for coffee, pass by a parking meter, perplexed.
This is not enough to make me real.
My cartoon self moves about in the world
looking for a story line, intrigue, danger,
guns, sophisticated high tech guns.
I cock them all at once and fire,
the sound is immense in frame,
filling up space, finally,
with something colorful,
real, but only in this world of cartoons
searching for the next line, a scene, a full frame,
sophisticated meaning with cartoon guns.
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