Truth, lies, and BS

Discussion in 'Philosophy' started by Julie H, Apr 16, 2017.

  1. Immigrant Picnic
    by Gregory Djanikian

    [ ... ]

    “You’re running around,” my mother says,
    “like a chicken with its head loose.”

    “Ma,” I say, “you mean cut off,
    loose and cut off being as far apart
    as, say, son and daughter.”

    She gives me a quizzical look as though
    I’ve been caught in some impropriety.
    “I love you and your sister just the same,” she says,
    “Sure,” my grandmother pipes in,
    “you’re both our children, so why worry?”

    That’s not the point I begin telling them,
    and I’m comparing words to fish now,
    like the ones in the sea at Port Said,
    or like birds among the date palms by the Nile,
    unrepentantly elusive, wild.

    “Sonia,” my father says to my mother,
    “what the hell is he talking about?”
    “He’s on a ball,” my mother says.

    “That’s roll!” I say, throwing up my hands,
    “as in hot dog, hamburger, dinner roll….”

    “And what about roll out the barrels?” my mother asks,
    and my father claps his hands, “Why sure,” he says,
    “let’s have some fun,” and launches
    into a polka, twirling my mother
    around and around like the happiest top,

    and my uncle is shaking his head, saying
    “You could grow nuts listening to us,”

    and I’m thinking of pistachios in the Sinai
    burgeoning without end,
    pecans in the South, the jumbled
    flavor of them suddenly in my mouth,
    wordless, confusing,
    crowding out everything else.​
  2. Im back, Julie:.shiver your timbers.
  3. 'What is that? When is paper with marks on it or a screen with varied colors/tones not a photograph? How do you know? "Julie

    What is anything only what we perceive as anything.

    Hope you enjoyed my masterpieces of Art, Julie. No need to say thanks.. I just can feel the waves of excitement, appreciation, of great photography emulating from your very need to say anything...silence is golden..

    So, Julie is a Atheist....rejecting God and therefore maybe being rejected by God....methinks he would still love you Julie.

    The Big But. Julie the Atheist has only her percieved knowledge....Julie really an Agnostic in denial...sort of wants God to have a personal chat with her.
  4. So, she can tell him off:)
  5. "For the sake of a few lines one must see many cities, men and things. One must know the animals, one must feel how the birds fly and know the gesture with which the small flowers open in the morning. One must be able to think back to roads in unknown regions, to unexpected meetings and to partings which one had long seen coming; to days of childhood that are still unexplained, to parents that one had to hurt when they brought one some joy and one did not grasp it (it was a joy for someone else); to childhood illness that so strangely began with a number of profound and grave transformations, to days in rooms withdrawn and quiet and to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to seas, to nights of travel that rushed along on high and flew with all the stars — and it is not yet enough if one may think all of this. [ ... ] And still it is not enough to have memories. One must be able to forget them when they are many, and one must have the great patience to wait until they come again. For it is not yet the memories themselves. Not until they have turned to blood within us, to glance, to gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves — not until then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes forth from them. — Rainer Maria Rilke
  6. Rhapsody
    by Cynthia Huntington

    Beat it with a shoe
    because it can’t talk, because it won’t shut up,
    because it makes those noises about its loneliness
    endlessly. Beat it with a shoe
    over and over, beside the door, on the balcony;
    beat it because it’s yours,
    because you’ve had enough. Beat that shoe
    your foot’s orphan, like a leather club
    against its side, around its head, with short sharp blows.
    Beat it to make it stop crying.
    Show you mean business.
    Because it’s dumb, because you told it once
    or a thousand times; beat it because it ought to know
    better by now. Beat it with a shoe
    because it feels good —
    beat it until it feels good.
    Beat the crap out of it. Beat it senseless. Beat it
    within an inch. Because it’s worthless and dumb,
    shitty, and loud, and dirty.
    Beat it because there is pain in the world.
    Beat it because it’s yours.​
  7. Once upon a time me.

    There once was a rather splendid dog who was very thirsty, but everytime he tried to drink he saw his reflection in the water: he felt very intimidated by this other dog. No matter how many times he growled and barked at this other dog it kept on growling and barking back. Eventually he could not hold his thirst back any longer, and in a act of doggy courage, he drank from the water and the other dog dissapeared. Of cause the "he dog" could have been a "she dog".

    The moral of story for the dog is not to trust in your percieved perceptions as truths.
  8. The Resemblance Between Your Life and a Dog
    by Robert Bly

    I never intended to have this life, believe me —
    It just happened. You know how dogs turn up
    At the farm, and they wag but can’t explain.

    It’s good if you can accept your life — you’ll notice
    Your face has become deranged trying to adjust
    To it. Your face thought your life would look

    Like your bedroom mirror when you were ten.

    [ … ]​
  9. me

    I first percieved in this place a large winged monster with great wings hurtling towards me in this place.
    I screamed never having seen such a thing in that other place I know not what of.
    I was trapped in a mechanical device unable to escape not an experience in that other place I know not what of.
    But what and where was that other place I know not what of?
    I was taught by many to percieve this place but none could explain that other place I know not what of
    So, here am I with perceptions given, in this place on a journey to another place I know not what of.
  10. An Angel said

    Julie you are not a friend of God
    Julie replied:
    That is so, but Im a friend of a friend of God who I think of as Phil.
    For a time the Angel said nothing. Then he spoke to Julie
    I have received instructions to record your name at the head of a list; for hope is born of lack of hope.'
  11. Real and Half Real
    by Robinson Jeffers

    [ … ]

    But now consider
    Something not human: — here the coast hills at Soberanes Creek sea-mouth, steep wedges and cones of granite
    Thin-skinned with grass; their feet are deep in the flood-tide ocean, dark, heavy and still, calm in this trough
    Between two storms; their heads are against the dark heavy sky. No life is visible but the bright grass,
    And a gang of wild pigs, huddled and flank-to-flank, flowing up a swale
    On the far slope; and that one eagle, wheeling and rocking, high and alone
    Against the cloud-lid.

    Here are no trivial artist-signatures, no puppet-play, no pretence of free will;
    This is first-class reality. The human affair is half real, part myth, part art-work: this is in earnest.

    I conclude
    That men should play the parts assigned them and do it bravely, emulating
    The nobility of nature, but well in mind
    That their play is a play; it is serious but not important; what’s done in earnest is done outside it.​
  12. All those poets, Julie, you are using.To my mind they are somewhat lost in their own ambiguity.Sort of like dancing naked around a fairy tree with lutes playing in the background....maybe with a few fiddles.. I'm of a more practicul nature with my prose.

    I have again and again grown like grass;
    I have experienced seven hundred and seventy moulds.
    I died from minerality and became vegetable;
    And from vegetativeness I died and became animal.
    I died from animality and became man/women.
    Then why fear disappearance through death?Next time I shall die
    Bringing forth wings and fearless like angels;
    After that soaring higher than angels...,
    What you cannot image I will be. I shall be that.
    Last edited: May 1, 2017
  13. A Proud Poem
    by Frank O’Hara

    Ah! I know only too well how
    black my heart is
    how at home I am with snails
    and dingleberries and

    other dark things. Be sure that
    no god turns me
    inside out like a supple glove or
    nibbles my identity.

    I am hopelessly happily conceited
    in all inventions and
    divertissements. I hardly even notice
    hurricanes any more

    for the glamor of suspension bridges
    alleys and pianolas —
    I claim them all for my insufferable
    genius my demon my dish

    and when I’m cornered at the final
    minutes by cries “you’ve
    murdered angels for toys” I’ll go down
    grinning into clever flames.​
  14. I like the Poem, Julie. Well constructed with the proud pride of vanity.

    But I keep thinking of a very large frog....maybe a toad in a very small pond.

    With a crown on its head.
    Last edited: May 2, 2017
  15. Poem with a Cucumber in It
    by Robert Hass

    [ … ]

    If you think I am going to make
    A sexual joke in this poem, you are mistaken.

    [ … ]​
  16. ,,I really don't follow that last poem somewhat out of context. A banal throw away.

    Folk should write their own Poem/Prose to illustrate their thoughts....and their own photos: why be a scary custard;)
    Why use others when you have a mind of your own, its all about confidence in yourself, without the need for a crutch from somewhere else..

    Back to the original question. A photograph is a moment in has no before or after it contains only what you draw from it nothing else. No Bs or anything.

    Thanks for you post, Julie. Inspired my very lazy brain to write some Prose.

    God bless.
    Last edited: May 2, 2017
  17. Off topic

    I've always admired Einstain....yes, we all do. A genius blah blah
    He rejected Nationlism at a very easrly age and renouced his German Citizenship.
    The man was a, what do you think he was trying to tell us?
  18. Einstein....I should have enough respect to spell his name correctly.

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