About ArtNobody will ever love an artworkAbout Art2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as passionately as the artist
And nobody will ever hate an artwork
as much as the artist,
cause it holds a part of himself inside
And it might be a photograph of
the beauty of his mind
but also a mirror for
the abysses of
My Own No-BodyI die every dayMy Own No-Body2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
On wings of a black raven
Its beak tears my eyes
Its claws lift me up from dirt
Piece by piece
I melt and slip away
Lava burns my shadow
I evaporate silently
Empty and undefined
I cannot love or hate
With void in my eyes
I'm filled with the world
And there is no purpose
To my directed movements
Only blackness of the night
And my own no-body
A Brand New FormBreatheA Brand New Form2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Until you loose yourself
This construct of memories
This skeletal form of dust
Your soul creeps away
And rots within and dies
Breathe into the mind
Deconstruct its body
Your blood stops flowing
No one needs it anymore
Your eyes are open
But all around is black
Violence of the hearth
While it strives for oxygen
It remains to remind
Mundane self persists
Until all is stripped away
Until you receive
A brand new form
SummerRipples murky pond -Summer2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
fanning out against the dark
the color of chalk
SubtextI didn't learn to identify caesurasSubtext2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
by marking used textbooks
with dog-eared pages;
but by listening to the sound
silence makes when words aren't needed,
and reading the subtextual themes.
Property Dualism, Epiphenomenalism, Brain and Mind“She does not understand, why? Is it the wine? No...what is it then? What is the reason? But soon it does not matter. Soon the why and the reason are gone, and all that matters is the feeling itself. And this is the nature of the universe; we struggle against it, we fight to deny it, but it is of course pretend, it is a lie. Beneath our poised appearance, the truth is we are completely out of control. Causality. There is no escaping it. We are forever slaves to it. Our only hope, our only peace is to understand it, to understand the why. Why, is what separates us from them, you from me. Why, is the only real source of power, without it you are powerless” - The Merovingian, Matrix Reloaded (2003)Property Dualism, Epiphenomenalism, Brain and Mind2 years ago in Scraps More Like This
1.1 - Clarification
In this essay I will give a very brief overview of the mind body problem, I will give an account of property dualism as a philosophical theory of mind elaborating on the doctrine of supervenience, a
Tangential AsymptotesI think about falling in math class.Tangential Asymptotes3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The boy in front of me is writing diligently, noting each and every word as though he forgot it was all in the textbook. He has dark hair all tangled up in the back like a bramble of thornbushes and his green hoodie looks like it could use a good washing.
The professor is rattling on about asymptotes, about two lines that go on forever, getting closer and closer but never touching. He tells us about the Greek roots of the word; asymptotos, that it means "not falling together," and he scribbles nonsense equations on the board and hopes that we understand them better than he does because tenure is the only reason he's teaching this class.
As much as I hate math, I have to admit there's something beautiful about the concept. Something romantic and longing, something I can relate to in a sea of cold precision and dispassionate numbers.
I think about falling in math class. I think about fractals and their intricate patterns, turning equations into art. T
Daily Literature Deviations for June 19th, 2012Guidelines | How to Suggest a DLD | Group Administrators | Affiliation | Chatroom | Current Staff OpeningsDaily Literature Deviations for June 19th, 20122 years ago in Art Features More Like This
Daily Lit Deviations for June 19th, 2012
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Almost magicI grew up by the northern skyAlmost magic2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
near the still hour and steep mountain
where the green is greener
the night, nighter
and the cows grass in that peaceful way
only cows can do
it is said that curious moments may occur there
even the wandering hare halts her gaze
as the ancient expressions
there are no gays back home
and they are all locked up
except for one
he was tied to a pole
thrown rocks at
I talked to him once
about home; the ancient expressions
the hares and almost magics,
he said it wasn't really
all that pretty
and that he'd like to go away,
he was tired, he said
of all the cow shit
he kept stepping in.
We see the sky where it is skylessNot the crystal with the bluish tint,We see the sky where it is skyless2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
nor the dark wisps rising from cigars.
Another realm entirely. There,
day ends in royal purple, fiery orange.
Gray walls hold those colors for an instant.
Air places dew drops upon grass,
as if to say the world begins afresh.
Birds fly together, each supporting the other.
Now the sound of change striking the sidewalk,
the smell of dirty pigeons collected.
Noting the white of the closed blinds of hospital rooms.