Radical drive

Without you harrowed

as if driven out of love's arms

and into wilderness.

 

 For the change

that should have been

but couldn't be forced

'cause the free world kept its course

despite all we could do

and all we could have done

 

even when it is we that are free in the world,

free to yank the chain of reality,

stretch the fabric to see the tear,

and it pulls us away from each other,

as the world expands, that the world expands.

 

But having tasted love,

we could not forget

what it was together

-- we have become radical.

 

Thus we resist,

push against the current,

hold on to the roots,

that connect us to the earth,

to stay closer to the source

of what we have in love:

 

Togetherness, unity, presence,

even if it can never become total

nor can the lovers fully merge into each other.

 

Heavy Rain

 I listened to a heavy rain

while remembering

that there have passed

centuries, millenia and millions of years

So that we may be here, now, like this

and just listen to the rain,

the splitting of flint stone,

making of fire,

building of cities,

of empires that transpire

Yet it wasn't beside the point

that I was missing you

as the raindrops hammered the roof,

hit the window glass

and fell unto the earth.

White hole

 

Like a loud silence

the perfect singularity of the origo

casts a shadow that burns so vibrant

that it enthralls the eye

and in convergence with it, attempting to depict it,

words form an equally perfect nominal chaos.

As if the origo's ripples mess with meaning

and all entropy was because, and of, this shadow.

But the origo itself appears accordingly as void

as it shines a static light.

As motion its ripples appear

as if their source opens by closing,

curls by unwinding,

and nothing is as mesmerizing as this motion.

It is just that seeing it is heavy on the eyes and mind

as it is tiring for the heart to feel it,

and instinct stampeeds away from its presence.

Yet within it, we are of it,

outside only the blank void,

faced with which the senses

themsleves start to flicker.

It can be said that an eye always sees it,

an ear always hears it,

the skin always feels it...

Anything that reacts, reacts to it.

And entropy, yes,

like the focus following the circle of the zero,

there is that which breaks the harmony

and sets everything in motion.

 

Fucking money

We are all in the hive

industrious or not

all flashing something

like it was an exchange of some sort,

a communion for profit,

you buying?

So, having numbered that

we move on without a purpose

like sails dead without wind

like slow motifs that give off

a frustrated and furious chant

that makes it real, just like you want it.

Life as we want it,

we are connected,

but hardly to each other.

Switch, jerk off, switch

easy money, like porn

and pedling questionable favors,

you buying?

Like God I've got it,

whatever you want,

I am selling you all I am, man,

living on it

and not just sitting on bedsores,

besides you have to somehow pay for that bed anyway.

And that's that too, then,

I'd rather sit on an ice raft

pushed out to the sea when dementia comes,

the way of the elders,

Mocking and blaspheming,

spitting, farting,

crazy and deranged.

The lot's never vacant anymore,

so if we accept human rights,

we have to expect casualties.

Better not you align with the enemy,

give flesh to the target, man the dichotomy,

nor afford sadness or grief,

lest they leave you volatile

and too smart for it,

You better be,

that's how you don't need a pimp.

And I've just found someone new

to talk about my terminal solitude

raking the falling words

like dead leaves.

Or do you believe

we can make a difference

– although not amends, of course.

It's all a big mess anyway,

so who could make the difference,

see them from each other,

unfolding, becoming.

Surely ripe enough

to appreciate dying in the end,

so that we don't need to plead

from fate.

We have conned the money for the ferry

and will all make it across the river

as if already there,

but here, and heretofore

we shant forget

that we must demand

to be thus included

brothers and sisters of living tissue

we will have to insist, even if disputed

and especially then, lest we choose to disappear alltogether.

But meanwhile

as I have my way with you

you have your way with me

the way of blood and disappointment.

And there's oh so much in the blood,

it'll make you squirm at times.

So you wont be standing straight – how could you?

You sometimes occupy a mere crawlspace,

having crashed from such high altitudes

to sit at the john

as the bowels jerk you

just as them appendixes,

hands and cocks,

crevices burnig with yearning

scream you to sleep

acting out on desires

that make you want and need

as if you could be satisfied

when even your modesty can't

nor can you function

on plain description,

admit to total death.

Thus thou art compelled

to forfit the human perspective

and let you run on all fours

hind mocking the sordid face.

The reptilian innocence

insulted by income taxes

rebel lion roaring

in the empty streets

mourning the solitude of the ferocious.

Maybe you sigh,

and turn to your dreams,

mostly oulawed for being so unproductive

better you just dream

in the house all the daddies and mommies

of the world have built

if they let you in

to wait on your legacy,

hoping they would never leave you

and make you fully responsible

like the poor and the orphaned

who never had anything

unless they just took it

and ran away with it.

There's something fishy about it,

to suggest such questioning of property rights,

like those left wing exorcists prowling on your inheritance.

That's it! They've got it all wrong,

they should have earned it,

like you did when you was borned.

All this shit distracting your high end brooding,

void of values imposed by petty squalls

for food and freedom.

No, there's nothing post-modern in hunger

and there's nothing post-mortem in ownership.

That's metabiosis, man.

You need no license to practice,

strictly all in,

no hogging the bottle,

you filthy degenerate,

I'm surprised you can even stand

and mind you, if you fall first,

I'll eat you, only fair.

Just standing in awe

of fucking money,

of course,

wouldn't you,

like the dog quivering in reverence

because of the unrefutable logic of it,

that coital currency

it is the only tangible and quantitative

value system around

as if God materialized on the palm of your hand

twenty fold, you know what it feels like

for you have prostituted

to make it real

worshipped with state of the art rituals

with good faith and due cynicism.

Yes, money let's you bow to other idols,

it's majesty abates such jealousy.

You can have other gods,

just acknowledge that such petty fools

have no say when it comes to fucking money.

How much?

To buy the infectuous stigma of poverty off of you,

wash it away with luxury,

and let them smell expensive on you,

feeling the rush of ultimate power,

wouldn't you?

Can't help it,

it does always feel like blasphemy

when someone questions

such a feeling, and the omnipotence

of your fucking money.

 

Evasive but endless other

When you see the line between dream and reality breached

You know there's no way back to intact truth

• and yes, it was all subjective to begin with

Thus loving the world becomes like loving

 

an ever evasive other, your lover that never becomes one with you,

at best intimately close, skin on skin.

But do stop to realize

that you are other to everything else,

part of the same fragmented self.

Always half asleep,

and the dream was beyond you to begin with.

 

Spinoza's Quantum disclaimer

Spinoza was accused of atheism for solving the God puzzle. And for giving an answer that is so simple it is a tragedy that he wasn't understood more far and wide. But maybe there was something in his answer that is counter to expectation, and thus the world wasn't ready for it. I find that Quantum physics makes Spinoza's answer more palpaple, although Quantum physics, much like Spinoza, presents us with something like Schrodinger's cat, that both is there and isn't there. Spinoza gave us the Absolute that he calls God, but defined this absolute in a way that doesn't give this Absolute being any entity or subjectivity as if it wasn't anywhere to be found, although it, according to Spinoza, is everywhere and in everything.

For me this Absolute brings to mind singularity, which is not just something that awaits to be explained away, like classical physics first thought of it in the case of black holes, but something that is constant but never reaches an absolute superposition, like in the case of a white hole. In short: Beginning from a superposition, the perfection, that is at zero, God, if you will, became everything by sacrificing perfection. Everything is possible because the absolute singularity isn't constant. The zero emanates the quanta. Something does come out of nothing. And here is the cognitive problem. How can nothing be God? Well, that nothing isn't nothing, because Spinoza's zero is originally everything, much like the sum total of energy in the Universe according to some theoretical physicists. (Go look it up, I didn't make this shit up, you know.)

Spinoza's absolute, from the perspective of conscious entities, is like the Quantum void, not nothing, not just something, but everything. It just took Quantum Physics to prove him right, or maybe take it a bit further. Absolute nothing isn't anything, it is the abstract nothing, which is, indeed, nothing. Spinoza's Absolute, his God is Pan, everything, but something that as such has no single subject. It is plural to infinity. People, like God, have and haven't got a self, because they are equally infinite, except that people are limited to subjectivity. God is also people, but people aren't everything, hence people have subjectivity, and God doesn't. People have entity. To Spinoza God has no other entity, except that of everything, thus plural as the zero state singularity was broken by entropy. Without entropy everything would be the same and constant like the singularity that remains a potential superposition, but one that cancels everything that is quanta. Like ownership of everything would cancel the sense of owning.

This might run counter to logic in the classical sense, but not counter to the logic of Quantum Physics, the intricacies of which I don't pretend to understand. What I am talking about here is merely the difference of quantum physics and classical physics, the difference of classical metaphysics and that of Spinoza. Spinoza's words to me are soothing like a mantra, because they remind me that the God puzzle is already broken, or, rather, cracked. Nothing is wrong here. The world appears perfect even with entropy, because without it, there is no life, no motion, no sense, no other meaning than the constant singularity that erases all difference.

I suggest you go and search what is a white hole, if these words seem somehow too bleak and physicists act as if militant atheism is the only way. Go read Spinoza, if you need a philosophical mantra. Or think for yourself, if you want to find your own way.

Tribe

a tribe had a myth

of a proto-being

that in its birth confusion

saw its own bodyparts,

organs,

as other to itself

but had to learn that it was

inseparable from its own parts

as it punished them for annoying it,

not submitting to its will

`it´ put a glowing hot ember into its ass for farting,

and became duly ridiculed for this obvious incoherence

as it would gain coherence as a self

only after accepting this fundamental plurality

the proto-being would thus learn

of its own subjectivity,

and the contextual limitations

that come with it

and become human by assimilating

the parts of its organic body with its conscious I.

for the tribe this fusion of bodily context and consciousness

made the coherent subject, the self and gave grounds for its rationality.

thus for them a tribe that demonizes bodily functions,

calls pleasure anal, and thus profane – makes it unbecoming to enjoy –

would appear as incoherent as their proto-being –

primitive and barbaric

 

just as they would recognize the rationality

derived from the primacy of the ego

as the same infantile confusion of the proto-being

that has not yet understood that for the will to become coherent

it has to accept its own limitations, its plurality,

its physical otherness,

 

its organic nature.