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  phase 5: logoi kai erga

Vidyaa - learning, science

Category 4: Transmigrations

Section Index

  1. Animalic Yoga Alphabet (Complete Version)
    Animalic Yoga Alphabet (Short Version)
  2. Meaning
  3. Religious Atheism
  4. Madness
  5. You Fill My Heart With Love
  6. Purpose and Being
  7. Science, Art, Anarchy
  8. Praise of Occasional Drunkenness
  9. Who Ever Not Trembled
  10. There's Blood
  11. Sleep I
  12. Dance No. 2
  13. Syllogy XXXII: The Stars

  What's Related  
  Subsequent Pages - Poems  

Phil John Kneis:
Beaver, Wa / Wittenberg, September 18 - October 28th, 2006 - P#343a

c o m p l e t e   v e r s i o n :

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

advancing aardvark
teetering anteater
optimizing archaeopteryx

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

burping bear
bumbling bee
barfing buffalo

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

categorical cat
chaste chimp
chipper chipmunk

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

pooping dog
fiery dragonfly
occasional drosophila

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

ogling eagle
cleanly e. coli
munching emu

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

conspiring falcon
fearsome ferret
frigid frog

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

genteel Galapagos finch
grinning gator
galloping gazelle

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

curious hare
humping human
slow-motion humming bird

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

itchy ichthyosaur
yawning iguana
towering iguanadon

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

invincible jackalope
celibate jackrabbit
hiding jaybird

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

cavorting kangaroo
curly karakul
junk-picking kea

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

cheery llama
spiralling lark
lousy louse

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

meagre manatee
meandering mole
heavy mollusc

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

self-spinning narwhale
naughty nautilus
picky nit

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

playful octopus
comely opossum
skulking ostrich

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

yawning peacock
picky pigeon
smoothest porcupine

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

gooey quahog
serpent-less quetzal
wallowing quokka

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

surging raptor
radiant ray
floating rhinoceros

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

stilting stegosaur
padded stingray
dying swan

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

tip-toeing tapir
hiding tasman tiger
cloud-sky trout

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

hectic unau
skeptical unicorn
prancing uros

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

dieting vampire
climbing vicuŮa
vibrating viper

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

atheist wasp
sheep-sheering wolf
towering wren

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

equestrian xiphosuran
agile xenarthran
wormy xenoturbella

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

yapping yak
yawning yapok
melting yeti

- - - abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz - - -

crossing zebra
deodorizing zorilla
optimistic zygote

October 30th, 2006

Phil John Kneis:
Beaver, Wa / Wittenberg, September 18 - December 10th, 2006 - P#343b

s h o r t   v e r s i o n :

advancing aardvark
burping bear
categorical cat
occasional drosophila
cleanly e. coli
frigid frog
grinning gator
humping human
itchy ichthyosaur
invincible jackalope
cavorting kangaroo
lousy louse
meagre manatee
naughty nautilus
comely opossum
picky pigeon
serpent-less quetzal
floating rhinoceros
stilting stegosaur
tip-toeing tapir
skeptical unicorn
dieting vampire
atheist wasp
wormy xenoturbella
yapping yak
optimistic zygote

December 10th, 2006

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, October 18th, 2006 - P#344

if meaning there is
is it in this
which is there
or is it in that
which is yonder?
sometimes, it must seem, another option
may hold the truth:
but only one path
only one way:
what works
and what doesn't
what stands
and what falls
and change, change in knowledge,
embracing it, thoroughly, if based on fact:
what else
do you need
but this candle
in the dark?

October 18th/30th, 2006

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, October 18th, 2006 - P#345

show me a god?
but why
and what for?
need a god we?
need not live we?
must not die we?
shall not seek we?
'nstead of following,
shan't lead we
a life that is honest
a life that is true
a life that is searching
a life that is finding all wonders anew
and even better, explanations all, no miracles!
cheap miracle,
invented for the faint of spirit
deluder of thought,
oh, how priests want all thinking be purged!
how scripture speaks of the "mis"-deeds of men
that dare want to question!
the corruption of Thomas: that he did not, any longer,
wanted to lay his hands in the wound all alleged: but believed:
what a traitor
to truth
that would negate
any chance
for its vindication!
and what a traitor
to morals
that a criminal in the sky
be good at heart
while slaughtering
the innocent
and condemning all others
to sin
how original

October 18th/30th, 2006

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, October 18th, 2006 - P#346

it's happening
it's coming
it's all around
this tingling
of the mind
this messing
with the mind
inside the mind
(with what's inside of the mind)
(the mind?)
(the brain)
how now:
(insane in the membrane)
what's fractured already
become it more clearly
the ruptures
are normal
coherence's the thing to explain:
and to wonder
has caught normality by its toes
taken off the socks, moving on,
the overgarments all, and the panties
till the truth
to a truth much simpler
than otherwise thought
(or just wished for?)
madness is simple
the dictatorship of simplicity
in a world of complexity
and the dictatorship of the self
against all other seductions and binds
let the I be me
let the ego be id
let it all
and rage
throughout the inner reaches of the mind
and it is madness
telling us
to save our self
time and again
and 'gainst the better judgement of anything else
it is
in the end
a primal thing
what's to be
and what's not

October 18th/30th, 2006

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, November 12th / December 10th, 2006 - P#347

you fill my heart with love
quite sinking in so deep
but much more
there's more
so much more
the world
needs love
my friends
need love
my enemies
all things
need love:
and even though, in lucid a moment,
I know this sounds quite drunk:
the cataracts of love
incited by you
are what you're capable of
is a dangerous thing:
transgressing all borders
transcending all wisdom:
love, indeed, does conquer all
and possession
is a different thing
we do need love
to live
why deny it, why deem this shallow, silly, weak?
you gave me love
you gave me life
how could I
this logic?

December 10th, 2006

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, December 7th, 2006 - P#348

some like to see
how they are seen
some like to be
wherever they seem
some like to do
whatever needs doing:
by whoever's dictate:
yet who
in a world seeking purpose
can say what it is
can they? or can you?
some say, 'tis faith
that guides us along
but what kind of guide
would go blind quite by choice?
now, do I do
whatever one does
now, do I say
whatever one says
now, do I write
whatever one writes?
now, shalt I be
whatever one is?
well, who is this ever
and what do they know?

December 7th/10th, 2006

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, December 7th, 2006 - P#349

whatever is known
there still remains something
whatever is shown
remains to be seen
whatever is said
needs prove its own worth
whatever is made
needs find its own truth:
there's just one aim:
and just one way:
without end

December 7th/10th, 2006

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, December 7th, 2006 - P#350

you need the mind to be free
from all that constrains it
that once in a while
all shalt make sense
and, once in a while
all leads to peace
and love
and dreams, oh so sweet

December 7th/10th, 2006

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, December 14th, 2006 - P#351

who is this I
for a mind
of a similar kind?
in a darkness
of uncertainty
or just recognized?
await I
some sign
or build I
what's mine
build I
am I
out of the maze
of all here assembled:
who ever not trembled
at the thought
of something else
in the driver's seat?
even those
hoping for "god"
jeez, do they wish
to be on his side
a face that, at least
yet who doesn't tremble
at the realization
that it is us
who have to make sense
and no idols will help us
in struggles to come?

December 14th/16th, 2006

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, December 14th, 2006 - P#352

there's blood
in my arteries
and veins
through cells that are me
yet now
though I'm a zoo
of various cells
out of the various moleculized atoms:
tomorrow I'll be
made of a meme of a me
which says, I am constant
in this voyage
of particles
so small
through a universe
so Vast

December 14th/16th, 2006

Phil John Kneis:
Eichwalde, December 29th, 2006 - P#353

tired now
of all that is there
all that is here
and crushing in
how to stop it?
and, I need to ask, some time,
for now?
and when, for good,
'cause sometimes I feel
I'm done

December 29th/31st, 2006

Phil John Kneis:
Berlin, December 30th, 2006 - P#354

flickering lights
some smoke here
and a pounding
all that once was
some seconds ago:
for all is change
all is movement
all is hunted
bonding with spectres
of the night:
a motion conjoined
and, oh, everlasting:
slow steps
quick steps
and stops:
looking forward
looking back
and move through obstacles all over
pairs of solitary particles
spinning around
towards the oblivion
that's the promise of music
what else would you need
what else would, could you wish for
in this dance of time
around the sun
this flickering light
in the center of things

December 30th/31st, 2006

Phil John Kneis:

Tetralogy I Part Four

The Stars

Eichwalde / Berlin, December 10th, 2006 - July 28th, 2008 - P#364





Schematic Navigation
Singularity Pulses Duet Solitude Family Gravity Drift Galaxy Unity Multiplicity
Mercurius Venus Terra with Luna Mars with Phobos and Deinos Ceres with Asteroids! Ivppiter et al. Satvrnus et al. Ouranos et al. Neptnvns et al. Plouton-Charon .. et al.
Helios Lvna Nyx Black Hole Per Aspera Ad Astra Alter Ego Ikaros Narcissos In Thy Image
Homer - Hesiod Pythagoras - Aristarchos Aristoteles - Ptolemaios Al Khwarizmi - Al-Battani - Al-Biruni Copernicus - Galilei - Kepler Newton - Leibniz Herschel - Lemaître - Hubble Maxwell - Einstein - Planck Schrödinger - Curie - Heisenberg Feynman - Weinberg - Hawking
Strange Charms, Top Bottom, Up Down Strings to Pull Connecting All Beneath It All And Speed Is All In Flavor Myth In Spin the Truth An Antiworld A Multiworld Fiat


beyond the sea of stars
there's something
a moment
of light
breaking through
of time
being born
and carrying space
in its wake
we can see it
we can find it
we can grasp it:
when we go forth
then we'll go back
when we go far
we'll go to the near
and in this moment
the smallest scope
makes the biggest one
and see:
in a multiverse without end
beginnings too
are just a phase
of life


1: Erat Lux

Singularity Pulses Duet Solitude Family Gravity Drift Galaxy Unity Multiplicity


there's something here
that cannot be seen
because all sight
gets lost
because all light
gets lost
and not even it might now arise:
there's something here
something is pulled
out of the fabric of reality
out of the logic of the now
a force
not making any prisoners
('xcept, say, have you heard the hypothesis
that pairs of nothingness
could channel stuff right out of a black hole?)
the stuff is stuck
needs get unstuck
if there's more
so much more
just fit all in
and let all things now come closer
and send them in
they keep being crushed
keep being altered
and sucked all right in:
but see:
there's a chance
a new verse is borne
a new verse then spoken
and new a creation
might now unfold



such a regularity of wanting to speak
a strangest occurrence
strangest a thought:
that one thing came through, granted though
that structures would grow, and emerge
that more strange
more inventive
than ever before
a structure so now
that holds up its name:
pulsating it will
right now
it will be the only one
only later
pulses mean life
and the discovery
of life
and art



there's little sense
in going it all alone
there's little sense
for sense must be made
and intention is moot:
a simple construction
does work it, or not?
in a verse without foresight
what does it mean
if you intend
to mean?
and to mean on your own:
what a petty attempt:
no, 't needs one more
to at least
be seen
for an effect to be had
it needs another
needs an object
or an observer:
and binary logic
at least is a step
away from the nothingness
of solipsism



once now,
thrown back
to the precipice of old:
in a space so Vast
you're quite on your own
the Vastness of all
just keeps crushing in
and all now your dreams
all now your hopes
in one converge
a center of something
this all now depends
on all now to change
on all to make room
where none quite has been so
yet, still,
there's some sense here
in staying a hermit
in going it all
quite alone:
for you never but know
what is coming
you never quite know
what you get
and what could be worse
than to let your self stuck
by the contingencies of time
in a game
where necessities all
seem so trite?



shalt now then
in all that needs doing
in all that is done
some things need undoing
that others can prize?
an explosion
into the void
may lead the way
for momentum be formed
attractors be made
and gravity spinning
spinning in my grave I am
and out of the mist
of ages past
a center will glow
and rocks will now form
this very first step
lineages past
and out of the void
out of the dark
out of the loneliness
something is made
is turning now all:
per aspera, ad astra
and time gets a future
and, yes, even stars
seem to need company
to make some sense
to a coming observer



the mundanity
's all coming closer
all now 's authority
all now is driving
a machine
that can hardly be stopped -
pulling all in
having all dices
run down the slope:
no matter what they show:
they're going down
into this pit
of gravity:
and be it by running in circles,
they're caught
only some
can excite the energy
to pull themselves free:
but not without the expense
of having to work
for it
some things
are almost impossible
to flee from
some things
keep drawing you in
till you're quite in some spell
that to break
no magic, no wishing, can do
just pain can
just working
just life
(and, most of all, love)



something new
is making its way
quite so literally:
by moving away
and moving forward



milk of the stars
that raises us
that's how it quite looks like
this narrow band
this spiral transposed
this testament
to a perspective
of idiosyncrasy:
for say we in metaphors
what can barely be grasped
by the mind of an ape
(howsoever advanced)
yet say we in metaphors
say we sometimes
what, by quirk or by genius
hints to a truth:
as milk implies nursing
so nursed are the stars
by the milk-white fires
that glow
in the darkness
of space
all around



one, not two
(or three, or more...)
one now, and joined
and all now subsumed
not to the other
but to an ideal
of a spacetime
now shared



the world's a tale
of choices all
and paths adjacent
paths connected
all in flow
decisions abundant
and all, in a way,
create their own truths:
for if I go
or if I stay
and if I speak
or silent stay
one door here opened
closes another
and only rarely
will you find a way back
if so ever
and what was mere contingency
becomes necessity
and fate quite,


Interlude One: Telescope

let the far
become the near
let what's small for distance's sake
grow to size
to see what's there:
for what could be worse
than not here to see
what's dangling right before our eyes?
what could be seen
let it be seen
what should be known
let it be known:
that "sight unseen"
will not deprive us
from what's holding
truth out there


2: Eight Plus X

Mercurius Venus Terra with Luna Mars with Phobos and Deinos Ceres with Asteroids! Ivppiter et al. Satvrnus et al. Ouranos et al. Neptnvns et al. Plouton-Charon .. et al.


in the twilight of the sun
a winged messenger
carrying Wotan's staff -
or a rock
circling in heat
around a star it cannot escape from?
that's what the Mariners found
it's probably more substantial
than the remnants of mythology



seduction is tied
to the planet of heat
yet while love is enabling
there's not so much love
of life
on the planet of Venus:
like the Pioneering Veneras were crushed,
Venus will crush you
and maim you
and kill you
leave you behind
a collection of fragments
of dust just
yes, dear,
this love is all crushing:
but tells it much more
'bout a human desire
to see faces
in the clouds
in the planets
and sense
where there's none:
and truth
stays ignored
and minimized all



a pair so unequal
and yet, all in balance
spinning around
a common agenda
one blue, one quite grey
one living, one dead
and still, both mean home
still, both are touched
are marked
are flagged
for life
in this sea
of seeming tranquility

Terra with Luna


how fitting a color
yet, still lurks here
more of a chance
more than the Vikings suggested
and maybe, too,
quiet beginnings
that one day
the Olympian Mountain
will see quite some guests
see quite some visitors
glancing below
on reddish an earth
in the making
coming out of the cold
and out of the curse
of a name
that may it no longer bring with it terror and fear:
and more of a spirit
of opportunity

Mars with Phobos and Deinos


amongst the rocks
and hard places
so unlikely
a place,
half there, half imagined,
sees growth and a colony
for future prospects:
what a promise
to a world of rock-throwers
and places
so hard

Ceres with Asteroids!


hail the blessed father of the gods
all high and mighty
yet Dionysos is mightier,
you know that, Zeus,
'tis common knowledge:
the ability to just forget
and to forgive
the blessing of
and with it coming,
all redemption
all the joy
all the majesty of heart:
that's something
that "high and mighty"
won't quite ever manage to buy:
that's why the sun
is singular in kind
and Jupiter
forever is known
as a failed attempt
to reach up
to that:
the second sun
that wasn't to be
for might imagined
might enforced
always gets to lose the advantage
over those truly giving
and those who have natural pull:
and even though
there's not the name of Dionysus
scattered around the solar system
he's well known on Earth
and most of all
his gift
for bliss
however fake
(as fake are all gods)
you need an illusion
to carry you forward
sometimes, though
you need the reality
and failed a sun
will nevertheless be
quite just the planet
quite just the sight
and quite just the pull
to moons all around it:
and with the triumph
of science over myth
of sobriety over intoxication,
maybe, some day,
the things that are here
will count more than all dreams and hopes falsely attached:
and a planet majestic
will still gain a following
circling its might
and still will be recognized
for the wonder of beauty
it is

Iuppiter et al.


the shining one
as an eater of children
dark an element
who does this to a planet?
with rings so majestic
who would
want to subjugate nature
to a culture
so inanely wasted, invested in violence?
so Saturnian
a verse
a universe
of pain
or the husband of plenty and opulence
father to marriage, the sea, food and the realm of the dead -
a golden age
presided over
by the child of heaven and earth -
became he the ruler of earth after defeating the heavens -
yet betrayed by his child
that was to become the father of all the false gods
and idols:
an almost ironical fate
the slayer of Ouranos
banned by Zeus
false gods
have bound the titans
and thrown them to hell -
yet now
the mystery of all that
attached to the planet
by a ring
of billions
and Titan himself
holding the promise
of life
of a different kind
way out there

Saturnus et al.


the heavens are in outraged agitation and furor
they meditate on all that is
the variety and consilience
all is threatened now
by a reduction
of the blandest, fiercest, deadliest kind:
that no knowledge be knowledge
that merely truth, just the truth be a given
but "truth", never truth -
of course, a thing of such a majesty like "truth"
cannot be assumed to be treated on the level of mere mortals!
how dare we!
Logos, yes,
but only subjected to
for is it not better that words be slaves to myths
of our own human making?
let Logoi speak
of the greatness of it all

just not on the corruption of the myths
Logos instead
the way of it all:
a good idea
in order to survive
must find it like minds,
to copy

but these come at a burden, a cost
all has to be here from the beginning -
the very beginning -
- (of power, that is) -
each step must be a workable one
(never give up! never surrender!)
and slowly, ideas emerging
may look quite so different
quite now refined
and logos, oh, how awkwardly,
forgotten we have you!
let your younger brother play with us, please, too!
(younger? well, the jury is out
quite blinded it may be
mythos! come! We've heard you've reformed?
will be a good boy you?
reformed, yes, he has - and will - on and on
on the memetic wheel of fortune
"O Fortuna,
velut luna
statu variabilis"
yada yada
yada yada
yada yadayadalis

the heavens, my friends,
are gone now
gone are the days
of peaceful philosophizing
(were ever there they? maybe there's never been
a there
about the nature of life
and the idiocy
of the gods
and the grace of mind we humans have
O, mores, now, the heavens are closed
to a new one, a Janus, who's invented hell
and lures his sheep into the abyss, promising salvation
a gatekeeper to a prison
of the mind
and soul
there is an escape
your mind
your insolent mind
in a world of memes
some misguided

Ouranos et al.


The Sea
ain't this been done
what new could possibly
(Freudian truth)
within a sea of sadness
a hope arises
that somehow
the sea
to prayers
to an utterance of humanity:
for even as we know
that there is no god
and even as we know
that we can stare and talk to the sea, unheard:
hope is the only thing
that remains
when faced with the nothingness
of life:
yes, life is grand
yes, life can be beautiful
it can be miserable too, however
and, notwithstanding everything else,
final it is
so please
take a break
and let us indulge
in the insanity
of hope
in the indulgence
of prayer:
the Sea
must be made alive
in order for us mere mammals
to be making a sense
out of it
and if it needs to be taken out to the planets, the stars,
so be it
we need to relate
in order to live

Neptunus et al.


the fallen one
yes, this one is small
its orbit elliptical
and yes, it's ironic
to demote a planet
that signifies our greatest scare: the underworld
and though Lucy has disappeared from his sister
Eris is still
the name
of someone still farther
out there
Wealth is carried by the Ferryman of death
through Night and dark Waters
Eris is carrying Dysnomia
so that at the end of all planets
dwarves all
and portents:
the third one's ego
is far too extreme

Plouton-Charon, Eris-Dysnomia, et al.

Interlude Two: Probe

we look
we hope
we pray (openly, or shyly in hiding)
that something may be there
providing us with
with a reason
to live?
(if you say you need a reason to live
you may have a problem already)
(why need a reason
for life, it's just there?)
there might be more ways
to be alive
(and countless more of being dead)
yet still
do we probe
with a tenacity unwavering
with care or without
into the inner depths
of a universe mysterious
of a body
that likes, almost, to resist
any approach
to come near
to come here
and understand:
and in the end
and in the act
all probe-gained knowledge
is only partial
is only part
of much grander

- - -

how I now
so like this state
of being not quite who you are
but still, some remnants seem so similar
while all around me things
have changed
like walls crouching in
and colors now brighter
and walls, maybe expanding
maybe all those restrictions
are not what they appear:
open all
remove all restrictions
the naked body
the naked mind
that's a human sans culture
not much to see
not much to behold
but a petty
of satisfaction
and gratification;
so let us probe more
so let you give us more
so that we will try
to best understand
and if we then fail
to just confront
that which is different
and see it in unison
with that which is own

for exploration
is always a process
turned towards
oneís inner self:
a world unknown
is only unknown
to those who didnít know:
and any discovery
canít ever be the same
as creation:

make we
a truth of our own
shape we
a world not our own:
how so difficult an operation
to actually see
without our preconfigured mind
committing to so treacherous translation:
itís all in your head -
what isnít, shall enter quite soon
the empire
of our mind


3: Image

Helios Lvna Nyx Black Hole Per Aspera Ad Astra Alter Ego Ikaros Narcissos In Thy Image


I shine
shine I
carry I
^the sun on his wagon^
įthe sun in all partsį
'merely a matter'
they say
merely a matter!
a mere matter!
yes, matter
I can survive on matter
but the "merely" is
so far much over the top
quite unacceptable
mere mereness
orgasms of energy and life
must never encounter
this wording of mere-ness, this greatness-destroying
of the machinery
of mereness
we shall not abide
that which that witch which is standing between the middle ground...
and the criticism in full circle
we shan't abide
we shall overcome
o hypocritical us we
we shall resist
the lure of the fullest perfection deconstructed and freed
we, on the other hand
want finest beauty
finest form
finest achievement
for eternity
and hardly any will then get too see
their valuable alabaster asses
and boobs



truth is such a difficult thing
science is right: you need to measure things
and need to classify things
and need to contextualize things
in order to be able
to differentiate subjectivity
and knowledge anecdotal
from things objectively so
and observable

truth is such a difficult thing
religion is right: the human animal
needs to be seen in their utmost dilemma
of wanting much more
than could ever be had
of wanting to understand
where understanding is limited
by the constraints of culture
and thoughts are shaped
by all memes before them

truth is such a difficult thing
the harsh light of day
enlightening so
the soft light of night
and the spell of the moon
erasing all borders
and calming all down
till the piercing scream of the owl:

yet still
truth is truth
lies are lies
the philosophical difficulty of whether truth could ever be approached
to the obviousness
of a lie
and the conceit
of a priestly class of know-it-alls:

or don't know
but if you know
you tell
if you don't
if you obscure
and think yourself better:
your truth is a lie
'cause removes it from humans
their right to be free:

the truth shall set you free
and if it doesn't,
is it still truth?



do I feel a poem coming?
it is night - the muse is here in darkness all surrounding me
except this little light for writing
writing needs light
to shine
it breaks through the night
illuminates things
obscures others
and creates, too, the truth of this here situation:
a dividing line
between text and non-text
that here is erected
by the light of the writing night
but what has come
must disappear
and the monsters lurking out in the darkness
see they the light?
or does the light make me suspect them to be?
(as if monsters weren't real)
but maybe
the longer I write
the longer the light
can be seen
I may be found
may be found out
so, hush now
one text at a time
let the night
embrace me now too
and let us await some coming day
for its light
to be of difference



cling to life
when the notion
of an end to pain
is just too sweet
a dream?

I'm getting crazy
the loneliness
like a black hole
sucking me in
no escape
just temporary illusions
yet if in falling towards it
how do I know
I'm still there
if time has slowed down
and I am her victim?
I cannot be helped
for far too basic
is my dilemma:
and in a battle
of thought versus feeling
I fear
thought's quite now outgunned

Black Hole


want we
so much
so much want
so much that is wanted
even without a want
with a reason:
or is there no reason,
any some reason,
that might well be found?
well, any one may find a reason
you only need look
and find you will reason,
or rather,
to find a want
that needs be satisfied
to find a darkness
that's worth venturing through
in order to arrive
at the stars:
they say.
the price we pay
aligned it is
with the need
all on its own, almost:
and a darkness
may still be explained
as just being natural
as just being necessary
in order to get
what we want
that we need

Per Aspera


it just needs one face
to look at
to know what it feels like
one face
can hold so much
so much more
a trigger of the utmost immensest chain reactions
of the heart
wants to look
and, yes,
I do

sometimes, it needs the sight of the stars
to propel us further in all our doings:

yet when I look at the stars
not with an instrument of human making
but with mine very own eyes
and mine very own mind,
do see I balls of gas,
and chemical reactions
providing a spectacle
of sublimest proportions?

or do I see
a realm of possibilities:
and romantic stupidity,
much sweeter
than logic must sometimes appear?

ain't it an image
of the stars
in our archetypal brains
that propels us much more
to do the things we do?

ain't it an image
of love everlasting
in our metaphorical hearts
that sustains us much more
in all the things we do?

what we see
is what we believe:
and even if, occasionally,
science can help to see what contradicts belief:
to seek out the stars
may be much easier
in the end
than to find your love
and not to lose it
in the end

for stars, once conquered,
may be yours to possess
(what an image of hubris in the light of the sublime)
yet you can't conquer love
for love defies conquest
and can only be found
through love,

Ad Astra


I ain't myself quite all the time
there may be another one there
as wishes go and desires are
there may be just too much to do
and in all my wishes
in all my desires
may I find what is not "me"
what's not, rather quite,
the idea of me
and an image
not just consolable
with that
of my self:
I am
what I am
('cause I say I am?)
and what might distract
from that fact
is seen as incorrig'ble
quite as unnecess'ry
quite as disturbance
as jest:
'cause I know who I am
(I construct my self every day)
and I know what I'm not
(I dissent with my self every day)
and now,
in it all,
an alternative me
might be an answer
to all my troubles:
it could be the golem that does what I won't
it could be the spirit that battles within me
it could be the part that says what I won't
it could be the devil I want not to be:
but know, it's inside
but know, it wants out
oh, happy day,
when all becomes easy
oh, cursed day,
when all becomes dull

Alter Ego


let us fly into the skies
what's the worst thing that could happen?
let us fly towards the stars
is there anywhere but here?
we could possibly not be
with what we have here:
and a healthy drive
towards the outside world
without claims of conquest
(well, maybe later)
what would it hurt?
let us reach out
towards the stars
let us reach out
and tell everyone
wherever we are
in this whole, wide universe
of beauty
and pain
(hopefully, not ours)
let us build wings
that carry us high
and make us believe
that no lord in the skies
can set limits
and borders
and stops
to our drive:
so let us probe
into the unknown
and let us proceed
into what lies ahead
for the future must, needs be better
(and bad things never repeat themselves, ever)
and let us believe
in the goodness
of humankind:
even though
such a belief
cannot quite be sustained
from reading in the book of history
so what
let's not be negative
let's look ahead
and above
and beyond:
over the rainbow
is where we'll be
near to the stars
we can lose our mind
and let our hearts
and souls
teach to fly



mirror, mirror on the wall
ain't I better than them all?

now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
and if I die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take

mirror, mirror on the wall
make me better than them all

'cause I am better than them all
and all around me, they may fall
but I am better than them others
so treat me better, whilst them smotherst

mirror, mirror on the wall
love me better than them all

Jesus, Jesus on the cross
do I care for your own loss?
mine is bigger, mine is brighter
make my fate just so much lighter

mirror, mirror on the wall
make me win against them all

show compassion, world, for me
I am worthy, can't you see?
love your neighbor - well why shoulda
love yourself - well now, how coulda?

mirror, mirror on the wall
let me live before I fall

now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray my soul my self to keep;
and if I die before I wake,
I pray my self has been awake

mirror, mirror on the wall
I guess by now you've seen it all?



the moment
we've all been waiting for
has finally
yet even now
though we know
the moment is here:
what exactly
where is it
the will
(where is, not, the will to read Nietzsche)

and still
seek we
an image
to make clear
from whence we came:
seek we
amongst the stars
that face
that figure parental
to us
which makes us special
and hoping now, we
to find just you
that in thy image
we were made

if in thy image we are made
now look at us, our grandest men and women all:
would trust you
a being
that's just like us
just infinitely more powerful:
how, by the might of Hades,
should we not be afraid?
and how, if indeed it is us,
who created this thing
in our image:
this ain't good news

blessed are those
who wish by not wishing
and they will receive
blessed are those
who see by not seeing
and they will gain sight
blessed are those
who are without having
for they, truly, will be able to be

seek I images of me
seek I distortions of me
I might see representations of me
may even be learning a thing or two
but in the end, dear Higgins,
having to choose between Zeus and Apollo
I must say:
I choose neither

for if there's an I
that's strong and content
there will be no need
to conquer, enslave,
to murder, to rape,
to steal, and to lie,
to want it all
in greed so immense:
if there's an I
if there's an I
if there's an I
that could just be
how nice
and how
in the end

In Thy Image

Interlude Three: Spaceship

even if we can look
even if we can think
even if we can imagine:
means it,
that we could,
and seek out?
beyond the rainbow?
for it is in the enterprise of experience
that our endeavor
however challenged
will truly come to life:
and dreams are all fine
and longings all nice
and pictures and stories and movies and all:
to actually
how I
to see that:
and seeing, I might not:
oh, at least, let the future be better!
and teeming
with life


4: Orchestra

Homer - Hesiod Pythagoras - Aristarchos Aristoteles - Ptolemaios Al Khwarizmi - Al-Battani - Al-Biruni Copernicus - Galilei - Kepler Newton - Leibniz Herschel - Lemaître - Hubble Maxwell - Einstein - Planck Schrödinger - Curie - Heisenberg Feynman - Weinberg - Hawking


the gods own the world
as a playground majestic
and us in between

Homer - Hesiod


the world is a bowl
and the music of the spheres
looks for a center

Pythagoras - Aristarchos


all around the earth
in perfect epicycles
ever unchanging

Aristoteles - Ptolemaios


through mathematics
may we understand this here
algorithmic world

Al Khwarizmi - Al-Battani - Al-Biruni


the sun in our midst
need we seek experience
practicing our sight

Copernicus - Galilei - Kepler


whether near or far
falling down, circling a star,
gravity holds all

Newton - Leibniz


looking at the stars
in a universe growing
find us new planets

Herschel - Lemaître - Hubble


all relative is
when space and time can be bent
and size does matter

Maxwell - Einstein - Planck


uncertain a sight
where particles may be waves
all power's unleashed

Schrödinger - Curie - Heisenberg


singular forces
amidst the vastest unknowns
still we are seeking

Feynman - Weinberg - Hawking

Interlude Four: Accelerator

can we accept
that which ain't ours?
can we accept
which is unknown?

can we see
in mystery?

big hadrons do not simply collide
they're rather sedentary creatures
built of two quarks
or three
however, they're quite unstable
they say
yet still
does one see a hadron
when leaves it no trace?
--- a single one I mean:
each of us has seen myriads of protons and neutrons
but to see the woods
may sometimes be easier
than to see the trees:
and a grain of sand
gets lost so easily in the desert sand
like a drop of water
in the sea
of tears
in history:
I guess this ain't about physics any more

or maybe it is
bodies in motion
bodies at rest
somehow, that's quite all there is
yet who can stay? who must?
and who must move? who can't?
who mustn't?
at all?

somehow we know
about blood sweat and tears having been there
but still we don't want to believe:
for live we
through a history of violence
and live we
through a history of lies and deceit:
and the moral question:
that's for the books
yet the question of who gets to stay:
that has always quite been for the sword
(or the bullet)
(the fist) (the arrow) (the stone) (the axe) (the spear)
(the club) (the lancet) (the hooves) (the mallet)
(the guillotine) (the gallows) (the chair) (the syringe)
(the infected bodies thrown over the wall)
(the smallpox blanket) (the chamber of gas)
(the grenade) (the fire) (the oven) (the bomb)
(the poisonous bite) (the guitar string) (the feral beast unleashed)
(the poisonous food or drink) (the hunger and thirst enforced upon)
(the drowning waters) (or whatever we'll still come up with)
(or what may be forgotten here)
(or may still be ingeniously invented)
(or works just simply psychologically)
(aren't we quite some sadistic mammals)
in any case:
what has always been for the human unkindness
to be enforced:
knows only victors
and those being squashed
--- who wants to hear from those who survived?
--- who wants to tolerate that reminder of atrocities past?
--- who wants to know that their house is not built upon kindness and love?

so, where is the meta-physics in that?

and where there could be
(and sometimes there is)
there oftentimes
hides a different purpose
behind all this accelerated war
of mind over matter:

the flaw then, my dear,
is not in the science
is not in the tools:
hadrons don't care (probably)
whether they're being accelerated or not
they're able to cope

are we?


5: Pandaemonium Darwinii

Strange Charms, Top Bottom, Up Down Strings to Pull Connecting All Beneath It All And Speed Is All In Flavor Myth In Spin the Truth An Antiworld A Multiworld Fiat


we think
we live
in a world
of either-or
and this-or-that
yet these are concepts just
of own a making
own a taking
of a view
of distant, oft obsessive class-creation
things can't be uncertain quite
the will we want, we claim to have
(quite freely, that is)
(or rather, should be)
and yes, maybe quite, it's right
there either is something
or nothing
to see ---
to be?
that's the rub:
things may quite be
but the things that we see
may not be the way they are seen:
so how should we know?
yes, I know, that's presumptuous
old sophistry:
but really:
who in the world cares
what's what
if all things
that are
simply are
(even us)
no matter
what anyone thinks they would be:
and a particle
can be a wave
and a structure
be another thing entirely quite:
and a thing alive
just another brief moment
in a continuum
of what lived before
what's living around
and what will come after ---
perspective is all:
and always around

Strange Charms, Top Bottom, Up Down


shall need we here
a different way
of connecting things?
a different view
on things all primal,
the picture of the universe, as it was known,
now read on drugs
so that in my non-physicist state of mind
I think I've got it:
I can't get it

some strings are metaphorical
and can be pulled:
these may be the poet's domain:

perhaps, like this:

if you don't know
what holds you together:
you may but quite know
what pulls you apart:
there'll always be
forces to be reckoned with
there'll always be
powers beyond your control

can you see them?
feel them?
touch them?

maybe you shouldn't want to be touching them after all:
power means options
means, ways to just do
it also means: over others
so, can do you with others like you wouldn't want it
done to yourself?

yet, strings an abstract concept being
(a concept, no being)
(a concept, not being?)
(sophistry is still alive)
(and kicking)
can kick we off
the knowledge we should have
by just revolving 'round in metaphors
and weird approximative poetry?

let us get postmodern here
and lay some cards right on the table:
this chapter's called quite, "strings to pull",
that's such an easy play on words
as things to say about string theory
are few
and understood by fewer even
so I won't pretend to know
what I don't know:
'cause I know that I don't know
oida oudťn eidŰs
why pretend!
why pretend indeed:
if know I 'bout my ignorance
I know more than if believing in potency
where futility
is pulling the strings

what alters worlds
what alters minds
maybe simply just be
nothing else
but bowing
to the flow
seeing the strings
pulling us quite
through this web
of space
and time

and sometimes
poetry must cease
and bow
to science
as the more primal stuff

(sometimes, I said)

Strings to Pull


nothing's alone
the universe
is far too crowded
to allow
for solitude:

(yet still
we all
constantly crying
for company)

and maybe
we could see


as the universe
come to have learnt to speak:
for we are its messengers
its children
its voice:

life is just a normal function
of what's otherwise deemed dead
stranger things, I guess, are true

yet does this pan-life-ism then
grant greater importance
and less of a sense of solitude
to each of the oh, so many of us
on the tiny planet of Earth?

Connecting All


want I not
to know
what's beneath it all?

want I not knowledge
about the inner workings
of it all?

of archetypes of culture
and structures of physics
well underneath?

so that in understanding
control can be gained:
and the empire is mine


in the shortness of time that I have
trying to accumulate all possible knowledge -
oh, what a task
yet then, for what purpose?
the longer I live,
I hope,
the more then to know:
yet in the end,
it ain't quite just taken,
I ain't quite forgetting (well, hopefully not),
it just disappears:
for there's death
lurking beneath
the foundations of life:
ashes to ashes
dust to dust

and memes to memes?

could I not just
enter a Golden Age of my own
become a Rousseauvian noblest of savages
simply living
upon the time in my hands:
and the fruits that it brings me:
would not
eternal happiness and bliss
fulfill my life much more
than the construction
of works
and the commitment of deeds
of a material kind?

what then
(and herein quite lies
the Faustian question
posed well up front)
is the point?
and further, once realized
(or accepted as fact)
what would I be able
and willing
to do?

Beneath It All


are living we now
in a world of wonders
of wonderful complexity
and surely, all could be explained,
and is just quite all natural:
the explainable
can be a wonder
in itself:
no need for extra-worldly divinity here
and still:
all's so Vast
and grand
and, to human experience, mysterious quite:

and us
what are we doing?
do we take time
to indulge in the thoughts of others, mere decades, centuries, millennia ago?
can contemplate we, still, the emotions (can feel we?)
raised by a symphony (not merely a song)
an image of art (and not just a snapshot)
an intricate novel (and not just a short one)
a lasting series of television (and not just some episodes)
can commit we even (to another living being)
and think just for the sake of thought
and feel just for the sake of feeling

ah, well, what the heck
we live in the now
we're tuned to the beat
of the street
the wall street
the walls, however, are closing in
they capture us
in so frenzied a movement
that even when we're standing still
we're racing against the clock
the ticking clock

there's nothing wrong with speed, of course
(I should know:
I'm German
the Autobahn is my friend)
yet can you still notice it
without, once in a while,
going slower,
or - beware the thought - getting a rest?

I just want to go to a village or town
sit down in the central square
sip an espresso
enjoy fabulous patisserie
smell the flowers
and the lavender
(yes, God is from France, even Italy,
and not from Massachusetts Bay)
and, while idling in thought
or sweet conversation
just by sitting still
advance as a human being
be sensing
what it is like
to just be

so much so now
that I want to review the beginning:
are living we now?

And Speed Is All


are more creative
than people give credit:
who else
would see flavor
in a mere energy spike?
and an (originally once) postulated one at that?

so maybe we need to postulate
to create an image of a truth in the making
with a non-abundance of data:
and thinking begins
not with a full deck of cards
but with a mere hand
of odd ones, some jokers:
a mythology
in the making
a modern theogony
and an invitation
to be seeing things

In Flavor Myth


we the truth through words made alive:
for without Alpha, there's no Omega
let us make it clearer now
and give it form
take virgin soil
and purest water
and speak from the book of creation
for the language of Adam merely can name
but the language of G-d can bring forth
and speak we the truth
and write we the truth
on a body of dust
thus brought together with the blood of the earth
will now combine
to become alive
and walk amongst us

truth is that which is not hidden
not obscured by Lethe's spell
can we nevertheless though see her?
aren't invisibly we blinded too?
through a glass we see, and darkly ---
can we trust the glass at all? ---

remains then
the uncertainty
the lack of will
the lack of truth
(as the original, innocent truth had to cede, yes, sadly, it had)

and now
to tell the truth
is to believe in a truth
is to believe the truth can be conjured somehow
can be found
is somewhere hidden
and can be revealed
through an act
of re-creation:
maybe through poetry?
maybe in writing
find I the truth
and yet, somehow,
when writing, I feel like another instance within (?) me
is doing the work:
and I, the writer,
am indeed not quite the author
but rather watching myself
whatever memes now populate my mind:
is writing the act of a zombie somehow?
not quite dead - but not alive,
not quite conscious, connected to something -
who creates - the writer,
or the written word?
and why am I thinking
of the Golem right now?

a golem is raw matter
and while it may move
and while it may incorporate truth
it cannot speak:
truth cannot speak for itself
it has to be communicated through someone else -

maybe, though, the truth simply doesn't exist
(ti estin alÍtheia)
though I know it does

what - furthermore - is the outside world?
what is its spin applied to my very own truth
and existence?

well, ain't it hard now
to make out sense
where sense-appearance is but trickery
and smoke and mirrors
appear to be all that there is...

and from whatever unshapely rests within our minds
some things may break through
and in the imperfect creation of imperfect beings
a perfect connection to perfect transcendence
may well be achieved:
and the vessel
the writer
can conjure up life
where none was before

see we the world as she's spinning
around and about but herself
a wheel like, the sun as her master
the moon as her silent companion
and the rest of the planets her brothers
in this wheel where the sun is the hub
and again, turning 'round in the galaxy
a turning over and over ---
and in the small, there's no constancy either
were it not for the spin
of all particular energies
little balls
of movement
little wheels
of Fortuna
if find we a center
find we a place to just be
we are the lucky ones
should get we through into the midst of all this
spinning and turning and radiating heat
then heaven is nowhere to find
and the truth
for us
remains lost

the truth walks amongst us
till we remove
that primal letter
if deny we the beginning
without Aleph, there's just death
and the clay of our creation its end has

In Spin the Truth


and in the garden of the Goddess
snake spake to us
"like I do shed my skin
and then am able to emerge anew
you can shed what's been holding you down"
-- instead though, we've discovered a skin
that's much harder to shed
a poisonous dichotomy
cursing its own transcendence
despising a synthesis which
- once but it's gained -
needs to be burnt in the fire
of human inhumanity

seek we not
a world
beneath our world
an experience
beyond our experience
a life
complimentary to our own?

in mythos, there's life
sometimes, so much more
than quite in our own

there is
a hidden
a life beyond
our own

a life
somehow connected
somehow involved
with the life
we know
an affair, so to speak
our life, unbeknownst to us, has
our consciousness is being screwed by our unconsciousness
ain't that not the sweetest thought
our lives
are lived in the shadow
of so much older types
of seeing:
ain't it quite strange
to see
how we're not quite the masters
of our own quite domain
how we're not that contemporary
as we'd all like to believe
how're we're just not quite modern
but reenactments, almost, quite
of battles past
of fears all ancient
of battles mythological:
yet still, though, present:
and in this dance, this dance of time
coyote meets snake meets the goddess
(meets Joseph Campbell, probably quite,
dancing with Sigmund, Carl Gustav and Charles)
and all our hopes
all our desires
all our fears
all quite our nightmares
will tell us one thing:

you are now
you have been before
and you'll always be

because no one's alone
it just seems that way
and in the end,
the myth will overtake us all
and we'll be its slaves
unknowingly (?)
and the myth has a name:
and it shalt not be

An Antiworld


there's not one single world
there's several
all contained
this one:

how fortunate now
we are
to see a multitude of experience
in a singularity of occurrence:

if only it were so

for caught we are, still,
in the singularities
of opinion
in the dichotomies
of right and of wrong
and even though
deep down
we may know:
this is just illusionary
cling we
to whatever little peace there may be:
or may there appear:
that somehow, may we be left alone
not bothered by
the complexities of life

let truth be truth
and lies be lies
let good be good
and bad be bad
let our history be written by those singing praises
and our founders have been perfect saints
and our nations arisen in perfect a harmony
and as we made it
we saw
that it was good:
or at least, we want to believe

in a multiverse of pathways all infinite
does it really matter
what we
deep down
are doing
right now?

A Multiworld


we've come from the woods
crossed but the desert
sailed all the seas
have found then the stars:
and still:
what more do we know
about the inner reaches of the mind
and soul?

and maybe now
even if we don't know
may we still wish
may we still

let there be something rather than nothing
and let there be being instead of inertia
let there be sense instead of senselessness
let there be love instead of indifference
let there be life instead of death



would we go lost
were not to return we?

return but to what?

have found we a life
beyond what deemed possible once

have found we a way
far stranger than anything thought of before

and even if now
everything still may be a dream:

go on
the dreamer
is the dream
the seeker
will find

for that is
truest religion:

even if we won't find
even though we will die
while knowing it's tentative

all your knowledge will change
even though we can't hear
even though we can't see

we've come to a point
where the knowledge of the old
must be amended:
yet their wisdom will stay:

we've seen the world
through a glass but, darkly
the hero's voyage
may become well our own
or it won't:
and a truth deemed all literal
will collapse its foundations
and see not the essence
the soul
of the quest:

when I believe
I believe not in gods
I believe not in beings
I believe not
in all the things
I used to accept
as a child:
a story's a story
a meme is a meme:

and whatever we know
whatever it is that we think that we know:
need we to relinquish
to relegate
our final results:
we do know more
than whoever wrote
the tales of whoever gods came before us:

yet do we know
what needs to be known?

and do we know
what once will be known?

is discovery
is exploration
all things:

and indeed
we've come a long way
through the Woods
through the Desert
through the Sea
towards but the Stars:

but really
my dear
what do we expect
to be finding
out there
if we don't know
what we are about

would we go lost?
we surely still can


July 28th, 2008

© Phil John Kneis. all rights reserved   · - internet diary · poetry · serial photography
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