Posted in Political Euphemisms, Thinking for Oneself, WWII

Myths and Facts

Historical Revisionism

“Can The Truth Ever Be Truly Captured”?

 

For every “fact” there is a “myth” and for every “myth”, there is a “story” based in “fact”. Revisionism is the logical step towards the progression of upward thought, away from the constructs of “fact or myth.”  Whatever may be held as “truth” must be questioned relentlessly.  What is left are the words that continue a “story”and the notion that “reality” is no more “fact” then “myth”.  Time is the weight that the world must bear. Eternity is the “truth” that neither “fact” or “myth” can eradicate.

 

“Maintaining the hatreds and passions of the past prevents genuine reconciliation and lasting peace. The Auschwitz extermination story originated as World War II propaganda. And all wartime propaganda, unless hatred and passion are to have the final word, must be viewed critically. It is high time to take a more objective look at this highly polemicized chapter of history.”

http://www.ihr.org/leaflets/auschwitz.shtml

 

All Rights Reserved © mmartel∞

Posted in Yours Truly

It’s Steeper Near the Roses

 

 

Image result for Saxifraga oppositifolia

 

It is in the climb and the cleft,

The Narrow spaces of

widened divinity.

In respire to reach

for the shallowest of breath.

It is in the decay,

this heightened sensitivity in the handle.

The easefull mortal vellum’s escape.

The sheerest of scales,

which hides beneath the common fleece.

The severing mark,

leading guile unto guise.

It is in the climb and the cleft,

The narrowest space of

widened divinity.

In this steepening mount,

The broadening view .

Climb materialize cleft.

The Narrow Space,

Eternity Unbound.

 

All Rights Reserved © mmartel∞

Posted in Uncategorized

Antique To The Northern Wanderer

 

Thou hast crossed over torrents, and swung through wide-spreading ocean,–
Over the chain of the Alps dizzily bore thee the bridge,
That thou might’st see me from near, and learn to value my beauty,
Which the voice of renown spreads through the wandering world.
And now before me thou standest,–canst touch my altar so holy,–
But art thou nearer to me, or am I nearer to thee?

 

~ S

Posted in Language, Uncategorized

Lucifer in Starlight

Image result for lucifer in starlight

On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose.
Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend
Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened,
Where sinners hugged their spectre of repose.
Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those.
And now upon his western wing he leaned,
Now his huge bulk o’er Afric’s sands careened,
Now the black planet shadowed Arctic snows.
Soaring through wider zones that pricked his scars
With memory of the old revolt from Awe,
He reached a middle height, and at the stars,
Which are the brain of heaven, he looked, and sank.
Around the ancient track marched, rank on rank,
The army of unalterable law.
~ George Meredith
Posted in Language

The Damp

WHEN I am dead, and doctors know not why,
And my friends’ curiosity
Will have me cut up to survey each part,
When they shall find your picture in my heart,
You think a sudden damp of love
Will thorough all their senses move,
And work on them as me, and so prefer
Your murder to the name of massacre,Poor victories ; but if you dare be brave,
And pleasure in your conquest have,
First kill th’ enormous giant, your Disdain ;
And let th’ enchantress Honour, next be slain ;
And like a Goth and Vandal rise,
Deface records and histories
Of your own arts and triumphs over men,
And without such advantage kill me then,For I could muster up, as well as you,
My giants, and my witches too,
Which are vast Constancy and Secretness ;
But these I neither look for nor profess ;
Kill me as woman, let me die
As a mere man ; do you but try
Your passive valour, and you shall find then,
Naked you have odds enough of any man.-John Donne
Posted in Language

The Triple Fool

 

I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry ;
But where’s that wise man, that would not be I,
If she would not deny ?
Then as th’ earth’s inward narrow crooked lanes
Do purge sea water’s fretful salt away,
I thought, if I could draw my pains
Through rhyme’s vexation, I should them allay.
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,
For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.

But when I have done so,
Some man, his art and voice to show,
Doth set and sing my pain ;
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain.
To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,
But not of such as pleases when ’tis read.
Both are increasèd by such songs,
For both their triumphs so are published,
And I, which was two fools, do so grow three.
Who are a little wise, the best fools be.

– John Donne