Some Sort of Manifesto

The post post modernist movement defines a future hope by explicating all around it, leaving a space untrampled... the tone is far from depressed, merely cynical of cynicism. Meaning found in the destruction of meanings is detroyed to witness a clean slate of metaphysical intent. No rational statements can affirm/deny it, simply dance around it. Each individual constructing a piece of it, seeing the macro in the micro but niether limiting the other. A hark back to our tradtions for the backbone, but no specific backbone.

Our certainty is uncertainty, and we're not quite sure about that. Our knowledge is the lack of knowledge, and we're knowing that is suspect. The world has been destroyed, yet the world continues to be. We step out of the box back into the box. We're willfully aware of our willful ignorance. Our screams resound "why not" with no necessary purpose in mind. Our lives are absurd, and we find that great.

Versical Ramblings

Uncertain steps
see me
by seeing through me
what sort of game are we playing
do you think you're not just playing roles
that there's something beneath
your own giant assumption awaiting refutation
where's the fool in this
does he see through the sham
does he play his part
does he call out his others
we're all one
united in the game
universality, ha!
nothing essential except itself
don't take yourself too seriously, ma
how many regresses to get to the center of insanity
how many plays can the mind plane upon
real, symbolic, fantastic, social, sounreal, surreal
i have your number, reality
and you have mine
smoke and mirrors
but who's in the hall
can't see me
can't see at all
dancing circles round our selves
our selves unreal
we have no flow
where does one go knowing...?
it's a game
why play?
what rules?
what stakes?
sham shamming sham
we're kidding our selves here
paranoia setting into itself
we're addicted to the game we play
makes us feel alive
life, living
to fulfill the cast seeds
can we do them justice
aware they are unreal
should we care
take them seriously
might give them credit
bestow moral value
good and evil recreated
life has meaning again
with a somber face
then the fools appear again
laughing, frivolous
they dance on our face
and we crush them mercilessly
flaunting sacred notions
they deserve such just reward
we dance our own graves
the world is yet unripe
takes itself too serious yet
knows its not right
blindly plowing forward
let those who seek to halt progress be crushed beneath its wheels
why not play the game as a game
why not play the game with the spirit of a game
where there's winners and losers
a noble participant prized
bad sports' demise
why give them primacy
i mistakenly give too much credit abroad
i assume people will be so intelligent to play one game
they play another
quite dull
the difference makes it exciting
but unfun
their game is old
undertaken in earnest
not awareness

Death, Rebirth, and Other Metaphysical Speculations

at issue
death
ego consciousness disappears into the mind
a dream world
but real
perhaps a body
perhaps not
play the universe
mind the universe
poor minds
poor next life
infinite regress
others other objects
interconnect minds?
solipistic minds?
mind the universe
rebirth and dream
purification, mortification
clean the universe

when doth the fall come?
it teases
am i tied to the world?
doth the mirror reflect?