Stop caring about reality

 Stop caring about truth! Do you want to be hated? Stop caring about reality! Don't you want to have friends? Nobody cares about reality! Reality is a hate crime! Stop! You are a bigot for caring about truth! Truth is merely cultural! Science is just what culture decides it is! Give up on the idea that reality should ever mean anything! It's so cute 👻 that reason matters to you! It is just so adorable! Nobody cares about your thoughts! Grow up and get over the idea that there are morals, and those morals should win! You stupid moron! Truth doesn't matter!

Gnosis

 

Gnosis: esoteric knowledge of spiritual truth held by the ancient Gnostics to be essential to salvation. Science; knowledge; knowledge of the highest kind; specifically, mystical knowledge.  “Gnostics are first and foremost heretics, always rebelling against an ossified status quo. Gnostics are also mystics, individualists, philosophers, artists, shamans, mythologists and visionaries.” – Adrian Charles Smith

Epitafio del hipócrita (Epitaph of a Hypocrite) by Rosario Castellanos

 

Epitafio del hipócrita (Epitaph of a Hypocrite)

Quería y no quería.
Quería con su piel y con sus uñas,
con lo que cambia y cae; negaba con ‘sus vísceras,
con lo que de sus vísceras no era aserrín, con todo
lo que latía y sangraba en sus entrañas.

Quería ser él y el otro.
Siamés partido a la mitad, buscaba
la columna de hueso para asirse, colgar
su cartilaginosa consistencia de hiedra.

Mesón desocupado,
actor, daba hospedaje al agonista.
Gesticulaba viendo su sombra en las paredes,
deglutía palabras sin sabor, eructaba
resonando en su vasta oquedad de tambor.

Ensayaba ademanes
–heroico, noble, prócer–
para que al desbordarse la lava del elogio
lo cubriera cuajando después en una estatua.

No a solas inunca a solas!
dijo el brindis final,
alzó la copa amarga de cicuta.

(Mas no bebió su muerte sino la del espejo).

 

Epitaph of a Hypocrite

He wanted and he did not want.
He wanted with his skin and with his nails,
with that which changes and falls; he denied with his guts, with all of his gut
that was not sawdust, with all
that throbbed and bled in his entrails!

He wanted to be him and another.
Siamese twins parted in the middle, he searched
the column of bone to seize it, to hang
his cartilage like the consistency of ivy.

Empty inn,
an actor, he gave lodging to the agonized.
He gestured, watching his shadow on the walls,
swallowed words without flavor, belched
resounding in his vast drum hollow.

He tested gestures
–heroic, noble, illustrious–
so as to be overcome by the lava of praise
covering him, congealing afterward into a statue.

Not alone, never alone!
He said the final toast,
raised the bitter glass of hemlock.

(But he did not drink his death, rather that of the mirror).

Why all this talk about our not being equal?

 Why all this talk about humans not being equal? Surely you do not believe in a master race! Surely Hitler and his minions showed to us all what is wrong with thinking that anyone can be better than you! 🙏 This is not a matter of treating everyone the same! What is the point of doing so, if everyone is not one? Think on that!

Hunger Strike Poem by Adnan Farhan Abdul Latif

 They are artists of torture,

They are artists of pain and fatigue,
They are artists of insults
and humiliation.
Where is the world to save us
from torture?
Where is the world to save us
from the fire and sadness?
Where is the world to save
the hunger strikers?

Забавные игры - Силуэты

 The walls laughed behind tiled plates.

All covered in black marks of cigarette burns, We left behind all the old tortures And we moved on in search of the new ones With a childish smile streetlight lips Are spitting the snow in passers' silhouettes Downpipes are quietly ringing Of touch of the overflow of frozen catkins Morning will play on the curbs of the boulevards. Of some overcrowded sleeping districts Someone's smile in the window of train, Is somebody's attempt to fix their misfits Someone's smile in the window of train, Is somebody's attempt to fix their misfits Someone's smile in the window of train, Is somebody's attempt to fix their misfits