Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Various poems

I haven’t felt much like writing lately, and just haven’t been in a state to write interesting clear prose about my girl theories, etc. I did however write these three poems over the course of the last month or so. I don’t think they are my best, but I suppose they are post worthy. Lately I have been thinking much about the foundations of mathematics, and in particular trying to write up carefully my ideas about the subject, and in particular my ideas about incorporating a third truth value of “silly”, which I think allows mathematical discourse to be a little simpler. If mathematicians allow themselves to assert silly things, it reduces pedantry, and it’s no big deal because I make things so it’s always pretty obvious whether something is silly or no. Anyway, perhaps this employment of trying to make math less pedantic without being sloppy will be seen as a legitimate excuse for my not having posted much of late. Part of it is just that I am so isolated there isn’t much of anything (or anyone) to inspire me :( .


girls are prettier
than what one
would expect
So soft
And fluffy
I remember
Long time ago
I thought
it was something

Tra la
Patient Indifference

I remember
Something else,
How an equation
So apt
And seemly
Can be a
More profitable
For my thoughts
Than mere

She wrote that letter,
the one she never
Because if she didn’t,
Well, that would be
even stranger
To me anyway.
Perhaps I’m not sane to say so
but I say so
as I so believe,
knowing no better way.

Times were
goblins ran amuck
In the very streets
of very city they
ran foully did the
goblins as they ran
they did the blad.
Bad goblins they.
Try not
To associate with
do—do not—
try not to not
associate them
Brrrrr! Taoism of Yoda.
Blub blurb.—

I love silly
Want to take
A girl
by the arms
“Let’s be silly.”
We jump up and down.
Saying whatever
If it makes any sense,
Wherever our fancy
there it is—
The gloomy one—
We all fall down.
The gloomy one has it way
And after too,
After three.
Silly, silly
I will gain respect
In the community
By introducing silliness
No really.
A gobblobkin
crosses our path
we look at one another astounded
In the front seat
And wipe our brows
with our handkerchiefs
A sigh from each of us relief
Sexual desires too.
I don’t want to be silly with
Every girl I meet
I want you silly
Like I want another girl totally
And a good many in between.
Preferably all at once.

[Comment: The girl I want totally else is a French girl I saw on a train once. She was arguably the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Hard to say whether I love her best, though, because (a) she made it seem impossible, like I shouldn’t care, or like destiny was against it (in a very clean sense, though, of course) and (b) it’s like comparing apples and oranges. I really got the impression she liked me; my guess is just that she really wants to live in France (e.g., near her family), and she is not inclined to think I would fit in very well in France.]


Love is warm
And pretty
And Fluffy.
I remember
I spoke
What grace
But haven’t
Gotten ‘round
to it.

the ability
to be pure
in thought
the ability,
the property,
of not invoking
for no reason
or an addictive one.
to the wise one,
it flies away
like a bird to
its nest
after necessity
demanded fright.
And impatience,
it has no place
in a sacred life
safe from depravity.

I can be relaxed,
and so too will she,
it is reason sufficient to
sacred be.
Sacredness is largely
taking care
about what one eats.
Gobble, gobble, stuff,
the sort of thing
evil intestinal bacteria
might just encourage
by making us eat
with less grace,
by way
of making us eat
less refinéd food
in less refinéd amount.
An atheist
should say grace
even if there’s a god.

I remember now
How it was
How with young girls especially,
And girls temperate and prayerful
even more,
One doesn’t reaaaly want
to possess them too much
At the start.
there must not be the least opportunity
of doubt
That there could be any deception going on
inside me,
A doubt
That could give reason for her to pause
And later not to be so self-assured
In her affection of me.
Therefore, I am
Stricken Weak
And Collapsed
In Reverent Sleepy Gaze
The lighter the heavier
her gaze upon my chest
It bend me back
Upon the upper cushion
I take her in
Whatever will be
Will be
And whatever
No matter.
All is up to her
I feel oppressed
to be honest
I have decided
Something so pleasant
I shouldn’t risk,
making a girl,
in her power
feel like she
Can make me do whatever she
Because I let her
Because later,
It makes sense,
I’ll make her obey.
But only after I obey
Anyway, I find her oppressive, I figure, because finding her so
and not hiding it
makes me honest
About what I’d prefer,
and what I later
will expect
of her
instead of what she will expect of me.

The spirits of the ages they nod their heads,
they do agree
that’s what will be,
and so I daresay eventually it will behoove me to try.

But only after I obey her.
Grace then, in her,
And sacredness
in me
Are more than
just emotions girls
like a fair amount.
Sacredness will
keep me from
being too obsessed,
and impatient
at the first,
and later too,
(Though later it doesn’t matter as much.)

There is
Something else
And not just how sacredness
Makes me sanctify myself
In the now dim pleasures
Of the distant past generations
And the benevolent best wishes
Of quiet ghosts.
Telling me
An emotion of steely-eyes with
To have a greater concern
For the distant future
Would be
In their eyes
There is something else.
Something more...
I could pray on
And please
By being true
To a character
Girls want to be fucked by
Give them more
truer pleasure.
For what I will seem?
For what I will be.
More sacred
Will please
Just because
It will make
My semen better. Hmm.

A simple explanation. Presumably, it’s mostly always
The more girls I shall have fucked
The more relaxed and composed I will be
fucking new ones
So if a guy is calm when he fucks
his behavior more resembleth those of his most successful male ancestors,
which maketh intraejaculate sperm selection
select for better sperm
more pleasant to the female.

Well, after writing the above, I couldn’t really be sure if I believed the last stanza (the idea of which occurred to me right as I was writing it—funny how sometimes the very act of writing a poem can lead to a new idea). It probably is right, but only so far as it goes. In other words, it is not really obvious why good males would tend to be more sacred or at least as sacred as bad males. Quite generally, nervous impatient people tend to be more anti-sodomy than other people, it seems to me. At least as far as males are concerned, I have always mostly rather admired sacred, patient, cool characters, etc.; however, I will admit that there are not a few very obnoxious laid back people. Things that encourage good males to be sacred and not enthusiastic:

1. A guy wanting sex immediately and for sure can be manipulative, perhaps exaggerating the extent to which he and his girlfriend need to have sex right away, ere they get screwed by vicious types or the purveyors of the conformist orthodoxies pushed by the self-serving majority. Make it seem like love never runs smooth, that Romeo and Juliet, Bride of Lammermoor or Westside Story situations are the norm, and that therefore enthusiasm is our friend, allowing consummation before evil corrupts it. Well, girls do sometimes get screwed to keep them away from true love, but on the whole guys wanting sex right away probably selfishly overestimate the dangers of it happening.

2. Coolness is smart even if it perhaps isn’t associated with moral goodness. So perhaps if males are good enough, a girl will get more pleasure out of selecting for smartness than for anti-sodomy characteristics, since mostly he is totally anti-sodomy anyway.

3. Patience is more of a marriagey thing than a fuck thing, and quite good males tend to be more concerned with marriage than fucking. This historically has been the reason (since college days at least) why I have seen patience and sacredness as something indicative of male virtue.

None of these explanations really satisfied me particularly (probably 1 is the most satisfying), so I decided to write another poem, which doesn’t really at all explain what I was getting at, but which talks about something rather different, as is appropriate and indicative of purposiveless action, a good thing except when depravity be involved, which it isn’t:

Sacred Girl

Sacred girl
throws herself
Upon the pile of
his recollections.

She never lets an
lead her a place
she wouldn’t go else.
And impatience is not
what she is about.
She’d rather go nowhere
than somewhere

She looks at me
like she is saying
she respects my
with my coolness
almost as to say
she wouldn’t find me attractive
Wants me to imagine it
Our Common Bond
like as to make it
a tacit understanding
we’re cool
and that’s why we like each other,
just because we respect that,
everyone true knows sacredness what respect’s all about, yeah,
that’s it.
She is frightened I don’t believe it,
sacredness no holy grail to me,
and I don’t know,
somehow figures if she just behaves as if we do believe it,
I will.

Can pleasure lie
in place so bare?
Can people grow up
She’d yawn
before having sex with me
just to make sure
I wouldn’t get
too excited.
Always close to her spiritual self
she does things
as her spirit wills.
Peace of mind
Lack of drama
to those who would deign
to be honest
to their own essential selves
or perhaps,
the holy spirit,
and whatever else
that’s good
which leads us on our way
when we’re still enough
to hear.

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