Philosophy of maybe


27

I see that there is no nature
only that which we project onto her
that image perhaps evolved in us
due to an interaction with her

but we do not ascertain directly
we do not know anything concretely
everything is translated by sense

imperfectly, translated by science
temporarily, dictated by out-dated dogma
unsystematically, felt incompletely
identified with, with a mesh of duality

I see that there is no nature
that Nature does not exist
there are these myths of the good

myths of God, and shoulds
but our entire world imprisoned
memes, simulations, accepted truth
between us here, that may be false

to another kind of creature
the true and real are a disease
of their own ideas, there exists

a unity that we cannot fathom
that the hills, valleys, plains, oceans
forests, sunlight, flowers, grass
maybe nature without parts

is a whole for which we are
only a piece and therefore
cannot fully grasp beyond ourselves.

Between Silence and Music


72

I will defy the movement of language
With syllables soft before the snow
For Autumn in the fewest chosen words
Along lines of simple alphabets

In the palm of my listening
I will observe you walk as a poem
Skips across ethereally this earth
With colors and bodies of Christmas

An instantaneous impression of beauty
I will sing a lullaby to the irreproachable sky
And kiss the poem-greeting letters
That dissolve as a soul among the trees

And the centre of music
That is a living expression of the times
Today the sun comes out in your poem
And I listen for the poem I will write in reply

I will be a hero of a recluse today, again
With an inner smile of jewel-pointed clarity
That the imagination is a universal thing
The night’s sheerness of black gardens

A voice from which religions spring
Spiritual movement completes itself
In an intuitive release of meaning
A letting go of the sadness of having come

And gone, like death, poetry takes me there
As a river of music, entering my blood
Chilling me with a serotonin symphony
The joy of being here, the glances and reflections

Of existence, mirroring poetry
Between silence and music
The snow and sun, men and women
The rain and drums stalk my fantasies.

Photo Courtesy:
AGNES CECILE
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Visions opened after a Human Lifetime


54

No and Yes
We’ve seen it all, this duality
The mind, body

The two syllables of love
If the world is real
We will have died
If the world is unreal
We will have lived

It’s the cleft between
All beginnings, and all ends
The male and female part of us

That speaks through all significant others
Talking about to us
What does it say?
Words are unreal
Experience evaporates

Silence rests all speech
Smiles foretell all energy
The exchange that does not end

With a you, or with a me
Unreality of form
Turning into spirit
Reality of spirit
Spilling into space-time

No and Yes
Free finally of
Exclamations, pauses and questions

Free to dizzily wander
The whirlwind and the flow
Fluid like there is no tomorrow
In the plaza of the mind
What is indeed possible?

Language like water
Between your breasts
Thrives for symbols

Objects & apparitions
Wood and stone
So much to commit to conversation
And so much a silent dialogue.

Photo Courtesy:
AGNES CECILE
https://www.facebook.com/agnescecile
http://agnes-cecile.deviantart.com/gallery/23399055/Featured
https://www.youtube.com/user/agnescecile
https://www.facebook.com/SilviaPelissero

FOLLOWING KANT (The end of Philosophy)


20

i

For years I struggled with you
Left-brain, your categories and dissections
Your theories, your need to know
For years, I listened patiently
To your arguments, until I was
Carried off in my head by you

ii

All this, with a Castle in the Air
For years I felt belittled by your logic
Your floating world dreaming of the future
Planning, assimilating, dividing my life
Into cost, benefit and formula

iii

For years I thought I wanted what you wanted
To profit, exploit, progress, become a success
I may love the Jewish mind, but I’m not
Jewish, I was not socialized
Under a purely patriarchal lens
I maybe wasn’t born to melt
Constellations with my mind.

Photography Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Teacup-philosophy-76801013

At the Persistence of Nature


The sky must have a gentle
Bosom of a mother
The river must be the sweet
Flute of a sister
Broad enough is the fresh blood
That time brings, like waves
Of grace and personalities
Even in the harshest months
Of defeat and friendship-poverty
I feel the trees gliding into the wind
The rock hitting the light
Each season breathing life
Never having asked to be born
Just like me, just like how I love!
You didn’t ask for an ungrateful husband
He just argued with you
Like a blue star out of place in the Cosmos.