Monday, June 28, 2010

gentle theories and butterfly affects

Whatever will happen
Whatever won't
                 will anyway.

There is consistent chaos
or an erratic order
Details change
but death never does
Everything is or is not as it seems
The butterfly flaps its wings.
Another unaware realm creates itself
somewhere in the scratchy sheets of spacetime,
someone will run in this room with a shotgun,
& blow brains to the wall before I can write this.

Trying to cope,
I subsequently commit
Philosophical suicide.

Every second,
  everyone in the world is dying                          
  from fashion-related travesties.
Every second-second,
  I am the last man left.
  The last woman won't have me.
  She soon dies. The uncompromising
  irony forces me to spend the days
  Reading feverishly through broken glasses.
  speaking to a resolutely silent something:             

  "I'm such a non-conformist"

  Sometimes, I write little poems. They are
  adressed to no one in particular
  Other mornings I wake up with an idea
  It makes tragedy meaningful for a moment
  but then I remember
  systematically searching for answers,
  Sysyphus still lost
  the taste for his tongue
  when he died.
  I die having never lived
  or vice-versa

Human experience can't transcend Absurdity

life lasts
just long enough
to formulate
some basic opinions,
& undergo repeated revisions.
Children with textbook heads challenge wisdom
in favor of situational grace,
bur all grace is situational,
and wonder is still the only beginning to Philosophy.

Professionally speaking
Prophets died off when
factories began hiring
college graduates.
it's all science-fiction
until it's reality

Our world will end or it has already.

If it doesn't,
I imagine we won't be worried.


  1. "Sysyphus still lost the taste for his tongue
    when he died."

    That's good!

  2. Thanks Jay, I really appreciate it.