another one of those

BABYLONIAN TOWERS
   
i know neither well these fresh waters
         nor this dew of clouds,
         beautiful as it all is
the umbelliferous flower shakes and twists in front of me
   dancing almost humanlike
           which is alluring
i can feel the mushroom take hostage
         my senses
 the medusae sing the sorrow
    of ancient wraths and pylons,
   which, by the way, all reach heaven
someone or something has built
   that which has been forgotten since the babylonians,
      and now
        this someone or something
          is able to converse
              with the all-powerful otherness.

spontaneously arranged shitbit

THE GHASTLY SHIP OF TRAUMA

a spooky ship set sail in exile
and left for the rangeless oceans
 but the ship
   is flagged
     with the colors of discontent.

   a beast howls
      and it echoes
            across the sea
              w h i c h   s l e e p s  .

   across thresholds
   of weird and undefinable dimensions
        and trapped by the spell,
         the lure of dissolving objectivities! apparition bizarre.
        
   memorial remnants of paedophilac molestation
  and festivals of horrendous abuse
    float over unknown spiritual magisteria.
          discarded, piled memories...
           ocean of perverse remembrance.

 the dreadful face of all the unknown unknowns
     weep mental imagery from its eyes as voids.
             f l o a t i n g      
                  s p e c t r a l l y

   a banshee shrieks
      and it echoes
            across the sea
              w h i c h   a w a k e n s .

tears of holy salt
  and the muck of damaged bodies 
    coalesce as one in the glorious chalice
  which is
  the brazen chalice of dirty transcendence
  and this chalice is not crafted to receive
   some kind of paradisaical nectar
    or some bloodwine sacrament of sinly expiaton -
   but it has been made
    to receive
    the mudwater
    of the divine and the numinous ugly.

     it is this holy goblet we carry
     across new worlds
     as to bury it in the humus of unknown coasts
 as to hide the flame boiling inside it
    from that which pursues it in emity
    and persists across the epochs
                   to extinguish it.

   a mare cries
      and it echoes
            across the sea
              w h i c h   i s   d e a d .

a spooky ship returns ashore
   to the bay of bad poetry
    with a great poem
      lodged down its throat;
      it is the poem of the ghastly ship
                     of     t r a u m a .

sunday ponderings, dreaming of heroism

Carved in the prison cell of Terpsichori Chryssoulaki-Vlachou, a young anti-fascist activist girl from Crete, just before her execution under the Nazi occupation of Greece:

"Είμαι 18 χρονών. Με καταδίκασαν σε θάνατο. Περιμένω από στιγμή σε στιγμή το εκτελεστικό απόσπασμα. Ζήτω η Ελλάδα. Ζήτω η Κρήτη!"

English translation:

"I am 18 years old and sentenced to death. I am waiting for the firing squad any minute now. Long live Greece. Long live Crete!"

Another example is the one of Lepa Svetozara Radić, the Bosnian Serb partisan whom at the age of 15 joined the anti-fascist movement in Yugoslavia. She was executed in February 1943 at the age of 17 for engaging in fire fights with German troops. As her captors tied the noose around her neck, they offered her a way out of the gallows by revealing her comrades' and leaders' identities. She responded that she was not a traitor and that they would reveal themselves when they avenged her death:

"Long live the Communist Party, and partisans! Fight, people, for your freedom! Do not surrender to the evildoers! I will be killed, but there are those who will avenge me! I am not a traitor of my people. Those whom you are asking about will reveal themselves when they have succeeded in wiping out all you evildoers, to the last man."
 Now, I am not a fan of communism, in fact, I quite strongly dislike and discredit it, but that is beside the point. If the paragon of human courage and discipline is not found embodied within the 17 year old girl, Lepa Radić, then I do not know at all where it can be found. This, whomever reads this fucking shit, is a testimony to the spirit of human heroism, nothing more, nothing less. Fuck all of you rats who do not work in aspiration of this heroism, or do not even idealize it. Just dwell on this for a minute, will you. These two examples of courage. Just dwell on what kind of strength human beings are capable of. I am not longer calling myself a misanthrope, it is a too one-dimensional designation to put on oneself. It is silly and shallowly informed; it is a self-identity of weakness, it is an unimpressive and empty contemplation, it is a route of least resistance to say to all humans: I hate you all, all of you I hate, and everything of you, and everything in you, I hate. It is the utterances of a child. I say, I hate people as much as I love what is in them. 

work in pr0greZ

GOD MUST 
SURELY BE 
MERCIFUL

(dedicated to Anna Świrszczyńska, 1909-1984)

as a newborn baby

i cheered and laughed and hurt and rejoiced

and cried and cringed and lashed out in fiery rage

as to become a human being -

now i reckon

that i myself had no choice in this becoming,

and that life was forced as if a burden;
  it is with this experience i must confess to conclude 
 that God is surely terrible.

as a naïve child

i put my finger on the fire

as to become a saint -

but it burnt to nothing but a black crisp,

and from that day on,

everything i have pointed towards

has turned to black rot, deadwood and muck; 
and i saw  

that God is surely terrible.

as a teenage child

i put a knife to my own flesh

as to become an ascetic - 
i know  

but my wounds only leered mockingly,

not with self-contempt nor with fear,
  no, they leered of ecstasy and of exhiliration, 

  and with the existential dread and the confusion alongside it;

and for this we must say: 
  yes, God is surely terrible,
            but he can be bargained with. 

as a young man

i steered my ship into a mist

and i found myself lost in the rugged coasts 

   in the senseless adventure
    as to become an explorer -

but my sails caught instead the gale of longing,

and now i haunt wide the ocean with loneliness,

with anxiety, and with alienation... indeed,

God is surely terrible.
   but God is a lighthouse as well. 

yes, as a grown man

i considered suicide,

and i made myself aware
through ardent and passionate introspection

of this limitless and self-deifying possibility.

and indeed, i could for the first time understand,
           as if inspired by gnostic thoughts,
         that, allowing such a thing,
          God must surely be merciful.

Christianity was the simplest house of a mightiest Lord! And socialism... the golden castle of the proletariat... both devoured by their own paradoxes - not even these monoliths could be found durably in the marshes of falsehood without many piles of truth to underpin them! So they sank...

some fucking bullshit i hate myself

...and this river, with its open, stinking sewer-lines of contemporary social justice absurdity, it seems to want to reach its end, it seems to want to flow out into the sea of madness and coalesce with the salty currents and with the unhinged truth of it as to be devoured - but this absurdity can not have bounds, lest it would not be an absurdity; an ocean can not fit in a tank! Yes, it must exist absurdly or it must not exist at all. It must expand as to burst, but how many years or decades will this take? Has this ridiculousness reached the peak of absurdity? Soon enough, I believe. The process has been commenced; the machinery of decline has started up - and that's why one day its structure will collapse.

on the Nobility of Revenge (very intuitive and unedited draft)

I am willing to unleash my anger against the wrongness of the world, and I am willing to bestow violence upon the tyrannies and despotisms of it; like Durga, I am willing to punish the perpetrators of rape with the heinous offense of rape in a diabolical act of gruelling sarcasm, and by raping them until they bleed perhaps they shall commence to ponder newfound perspectives in between their sobbings! And indeed, I am willing to draw a veil of destructive dusk over the ugly day of this world so that a dawn of creative rebirth may emerge afresh therefrom; yes, I want to plunge over the world  as if it is a most bitter enemy: in anger I shall sustain myself; in anger I shall self-become. Terrorism is my crown and spire, and I worship the triumphal savagery of revenge, for revenge breeds a cycle of violence and there is a goddess of vengeance that has forevermore clots of blood stuck between her fanged teeth, and I love her, and her cycle spins eternally and out of control yet with stalwart balance through the centuries... but who am I to care for its absolvement! I have abdicated my throne of philanthropy, for I have become one in thirst of revenge, as if a vampire in dehydrating foreboding; who am I to care for the principles of utilitarianism, of righteousness, of moral purity, when someone whom I can smite the flesh of for grievous wrong-doing, is still alive and well? When the craving of revenge overcomes a person, nothing more is to be done but to enjoy the gruesome spectacle as if a great comedic play, or even as if some grotesque flash of divine but cruelly incomprehensible justice.

An Endcommunean Philosophical Razor (I do not claim novelty)

Doing the same, right thing because everyone else does the same right thing can never be or become the same right thing because it has, by then, per existential definition, become the same, wrong thing.

The End Commune's Razor:
Never attribute to individual moral prowess that which may adequately be explained by the very slave morality in which the individual is entrenched.

The new world must always let the old one go with part wilful forget, part conscious denial, part inescapable rage: the new world lets the old one die off as if an adolescent fiery with the gale of rebellion storming out of a childhood house of abuse, or as if a hardened, rationalist and self-important atheist screaming to God: "I hate you and you do not exist!".