Posted in Thinking for Oneself, Unquantified fragments of numbers, Yours Truly

So Many Trifles and Too Much Time

All Rights Reserved © mmartel∞

 

Tower to endless tower,

dust per miss the light.

So Many Trifles and too much time…

we toil, we ravage

this the forage to arrive.

 

Arise.

 

The badge of high.

The lofts of significance,

’tis but an inessential plot to land

some pinnacle position.

But devices of desire,

naught are the wonders to belief.

Heed thyself amongst the autogenous plight.

 

Forget not…

the point is plunge.

 

 

Ewe,

a machine of desire

many are the trifles, barren time.

 

 

All Rights Reserved © mmartel∞

 

 

 

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Posted in Political Euphemisms, Thinking for Oneself, WWII, Yours Truly

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

 

The climb and the cleft,

the Narrow spaces of

widened divinity.

In respire to reach

for the shallowest of breath.

Among the decay,

this heightened sensitivity in the handle.

This  easefull mortal vellum’s escape.

The sheerest of scales,

which hides beneath the common fleece.

The severing mark,

leading guile unto guise.

Inward, 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.

 

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Posted in Thinking for Oneself, Uncategorized, Unquantified fragments of numbers, Yours Truly

Meditations: Piece I

 

IMG_0403

All Rights Reserved © mmartel∞

 

“It is with and without one, that the other finds the sum.  The two unbeknownst to me, rings truer in the dirge; its gradient death hidden within the blea. Beneath the tread to lot, beneath the tread to none…it is with and without the one, eternity naught in mediation to none.”

-MMartel

It is in the closest thoughts to the one, that one reaches a true uncovering.  To meditate in and under the life…is to pass through that which holds still.  It is in these peculiar moments in the between, where the recognizance of existence yields the verboten pome.  The answer which leads to a question, a posit held in place.  A disregard for that which one stands in front of and understands from behind.

To meditate is to see that what applies to the sum, applies to none.  Yet, it is through the sum of understanding, that which applies to none abounded becomes the sum. To meditate is to catch a momentary motion, above and through the apex that eternally sums the mount.

Whom is he which mediates in the path that enters to nothingness.  Whom is he which meditates, on the alive and the sum which breathes sustenance to form.  Whom is he which mediates, on the path of narrowest fit.  He whom grasps the hand of life, he whom grasps no nearer to the hand of passing…the bridge of meditation, the nexus evermore.

No man in exception, understands within and without.  He meditates in that which breathes life-force, to reach from point to point.  And in this in-between, the straight and narrow, he finds that which may escape him in this life.  Only, then do his thoughts become a mediation and the life-breath yields its force.

This be the life-breath, the meditations of John Donne…

 

Actio Laesa. The  strength,  and  the  function
of the Senses, and other faculties
change and faile.                         
II. MEDITATION 

THE Heavens are not the less constant, because they move continually, because they move continually one and the same way. The Earth is not the more constant, because it lyes stil continually, because continually it changes, and melts in al parts thereof. Man, who is the noblest part of the Earth, melts so away, as if he were a statue, not ofEarth, but of Snowe. We see his owne Envie melts him, he growes leane with that; he will say, anothers beautie melts him; but he feeles that a Fever doth not melt him likesnow, but powr him out like lead, like iron, like brasse melted in a furnace: It doth not only melt him, but calcine him, reduce him to Atomes, and to ashes; not to water, but to lime. And how quickly? Sooner than thou canst receive an answer, sooner than thou canst conceive the question; Earth is the center of my Bodie, Heaven is thecenter of my Soule; these two are the naturall places of those two; but those goe not to these two in an equall pace: My body falls downe without pushing, my Soule does not go up without pulling: Ascension is my Soules pace and measure, butprecipitation my bodies: And, even Angells, whose home is Heaven, and who are winged too, yet had a Ladder to goe to Heaven, by steps. The Sunne who goes so many miles in a minut, the Starres of the Firmament, which go so very many more, goe not so fast, as my body to the earth. In the same instant that I feele the first attempt of the disease, I feele the victory; In the twinckling of an eye, I can scarse see, instantly the tast is insipid, and fatuous; instantly the appetite is dull and desirelesse: instantly the knees are sinking and strengthlesse; and in an instant, sleepe, which is thepicture, the copie of death, is taken away, that the Originall, Death it selfe may succeed, and that so I might have death to the life. It was part of Adams punishment,In the sweat of thy browes thou shalt eate thy bread: it is multiplied to me, I have earned bread in the sweat of my browes, in the labor of my calling, and I have it; and I sweat againe, and againe, from the brow, to the sole of the foot, but I eat no bread, I tast no sustenance: Miserable distribution of Mankind, where one halfe lackes meat, and the other stomacke.


Source :
Donne, John. The Complete Poetry and Selected Prose of John Donne.
Charles M. Coffin, Ed. New York: Modern Library, 1952. 416-417.

 

All Rights Reserved © mmartel∞

Posted in Music, Music History, Yours Truly

Fragments

 

Fragments in pursuit,

‘Tis the will to unite

Fragments found in the treading lot…

Filament… ’tis a glow to a form

Journey upon journey,

Thread to weaving thread

What fragments pursue us now,

this our tenderest blight.

 

All Rights Reserved © mmartel∞

Posted in Music, Yours Truly

Bridge

 

The bridges to understanding are few.

Fewer yet are the precautions to a satisfaction.

Satisfactions are mild moments before the precipice reveals its prepossessing crevice.

The human in all its bent…will to wisdom draws in and up.

In all the humanoid and its curvature, the straight of line will soon come and pass.

In the leaning towards the sun and the respite of the drowning rain…the coming flood haunts the grasping air..

Higher and higher we build…in our misshapen fortress a bridge to a beam.

But to understand cannot one assemble.  No incipient form will ever reappear.

It is a change to a change where the coming bond will break to bond.

In the multiplicity of fragment, power is master…bridges may bond.

But understanding in the key to unlock

Unfasten the coming universe

Holding its eternal bridge.

 

All Rights Reserved © mmartel∞

Posted in Political Euphemisms, Self-sufficiency, Sociobiology, Thinking for Oneself, Yours Truly

“If everything on earth were rational, nothing would ever happen.” …So much for politics…

 

ted

“Intellectualism is a sort of psychological disorder whose main symptom is an inability to combine one’s intellectualizing with the work of one’s emotional and physical centers. The result is a hollow being who uses big words and fancy concepts to camouflage a profound fecklessness. We can only be whole beings if we find ways to combine the work of our three centers—intellectual, emotional and physical—in a harmonious way. Ignore any one of them, and what you have is a slightly crippled being; ignore two, and what you have is an invalid.”

“The conservatives are fools: they whine about the decay of traditional values, yet they enthusiastically support technological progress and economic growth. Apparently it never occurs to them that you can’t make rapid, drastic changes in the technology and the economy of a society without causing rapid changes in all other aspects of the society as well, and that such rapid changes inevitably break down traditional values.”

“Ted didn’t say it, but I will: both ends of the political spectrum, and all points in between, are merely projections of the technosphere. The political parties are social machines, and different mechanized political tasks call for different kinds of machinery.”

 

Please continue reading this brilliant article and blog (comment sections are great as well):

http://cluborlov.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/so-much-for-politics.html#more

 

…and whilst you are at it…a bit of historical revisionism is in check for the “Mr. Ted”.  Don’t just gobble up the news turkey-heads…there is more than can only be encountered on a shiny, hand-fed surface. Inform yourself before you can even begin to wrap your head around any kind of truth. Hunt for the lot… your brain is niente(anything and nothing). The truth may one day grace you with its beautiful appearance, but it will be far too late to undo your laziness. :

http://editions-hache.com/essais/pdf/kaczynski2.pdf

http://theanarchistlibrary.org/category/author/ted-kaczynski

Posted in A Nighttime Companion of Solitude, Yours Truly

A Nighttime Companion of Solitude

 

For those whom wile away time as a seller…

For those whom are mistaken, in their very own duplicity.

Thou art the most colossal of fools…

 

For those whom lead us astray…

Leading us in guile, the perchance in a true name

Thou art drowning in your own self-ridicule.

Thou art the truest of fools….

 

For those whom believe leading in an unbending path for freedom…

 Will somehow realize your own value,

Thou art forging your own path of demise.

Thou art the creator of naught…

and naught shall become you.

 

Go Eat yourself.

You are devouring your own rotten flesh.

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Self-sufficiency, Unquantified fragments of numbers, Yours Truly

Space Love

 

In the space of earth and other fleshly love…there is a divide that one cannot discern.  It is in this sweeping expanse, that limits find their un-boundedness.

If earth is not space and love is not of the flesh…the divide does there exist.  The expanse will uncover and therein lies a hint of its possibility.

If earth is space and love is of the flesh…the divide simply is itself.  The expanse still present, the un-boundedness of different plane.

If love is of another in the constancy of space…the divide constantly repeats itself, the love is ever present.

If earth cannot be of space…constancy still expands.  The divide begins to reveal itself, as earth moves towards un-space.

In the space that is flesh…love is of the earth and if the earth is a divide, flesh inhabits an expanse not bounded in ordinary plane.

If love is a divide and the earth inhabits this space…the divide becomes ever wider, the plane of ordinary existence becomes unbounded.

If existence is unbounded and ever inhabiting its earthly space…time eternally repeats itself and love cannot be of the flesh.

 

∞ Dedicated to those whom search in true diligence, with an ever-increasing strength in the divide…for that which cannot be found. Yet remain ever equal and true in that of unboundedness, which is existence. ∞

 

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Posted in Yours Truly

Will…The Valiant Tread Here No More: Piece III (“Exhaust Inhibits”)

IMG_1833

 

Dejected fire, when exhaust inhibits

Ravenous desire,  soiled with self-service.

You whom have wiled away your soul for the faintest of reason…

You whom have wiled away your will.

Nuturing eternal impotence,

could you face your seeded self-treason?

 

Dejected fire, when exhaust inhibits

Ravenous desire, absolute void…

furthest of the far,

undeviating in-ablity to preserve us.

You whom have winnowed your worth, for the airs of false beauty

You whom consign your trust,

bereft of each and every authentic duty.

 

Dejected fire, when exhaust inhibits

Ravenous desire, draped in idle self-will

Will you only have the worth, worthless to submerge us?

You whom are wallower in your martyr pool of self-pity.

You whom consider honesty is a given…

Fool of greatest fall.

Wallow in your undying and boundless,

pitiful prison.

 

Dejected fire, when exhaust inhibits

Ravenous desire, coward of endless debt…

payment in debased courage…

your Lilliputian heart, grows evermore timid.

You cannot ever find truest perception

lying in deep pools of shallow depth.

Whence you cannot feel what it is to die for…

to live mired in worthless meaning in greatest breadth.

 

To be alive is a bestowing simply for the fervent and rugged…

but whence exhaust inhibits,

Death in ravenous desire,

let it be… your only conciliate.

 

 

All Rights Reserved © mmartel∞