I have but few words for the Mexicans girls
The color of your skin is like the dust on the cameleers face in the deserts
What words should I dedicate for the beauty of all Mexican girls?
For their voice has a tranquility
Their spirit is free and wild
Their ways are savage still ah, heartaches
I have no words for the Mexican girls pity me oh poets!
Sitting lonely near the sea winds play with her hairs
A whisper came rushing “Mexican” oh winds I listen with care to Mexican women speaking
A Mexican girl stole my heart away
Catch her oh God punish her for such hideous crime
Gave me some words to express oh lord
Or make me fall in love with that Mexican girl
This afternoon is refreshing, the sun is shining and the winds are strong
The pages of the book on my desk are being kissed by the wind entering from the window
I am on my way to Florida Orchestra
For some hours I will open myself to pure aesthetic pleasure
Beethoven’s piano concerto no.5 reflects a heroic struggle of an individual that we can relate
Most people are unbearable to bear their own minds and body
It takes special attention to take care of oneself
Emerson teaches the cultivation of self in his essay “Self Reliance”
Foucault teaches the culture of self in his book history of sexuality
It is never too early or too late for young men to philosophize or retire to their own selves
Epimeleia implies a labor, a measure for self development
Thoreau labored his soul with nature in his book “Walden or life in the woods”
Socrates by drinking a cup of hemlock in Plato’s dialogue “Apology”
It takes time to devote oneself to Oneself for pure Happiness and success
Epicurean theme which Seneca and Alicibiades adapted with a view to turning and returning to oneself
The cultivation of self is no different than cultivation of a garden
The culture of the self is an art of existence concluded Foucault
The will of God is the will of a tyrant.
“O Great and Terrible God”
Whether Obey or disobey God’s will either way God wins even when God loses he wins
Death Ovens are prepared in hell whose fuel are men and stone
“Death ovens” portrait by Camus in his play titled as a “State of Siege”
Nothings changed. Nothings happening, nothing has happened. (Human Crisis)
Thou hast signed in the sand,
Thou hast written in the sea,
Nothing endures but misery.
Who is wrong and who is right?
Truth is but surmise.
Death and death alone is sure,
All the rest is lies!
Wretched! oh my Wretched MoeMoe why haven’t you overcome her love?
Is there any cure for your madness?
Listen to the blowing of the cool winds tonight
Her face appears in your memory like the moon appears from behind the clouds
Is this a sign of mania or melancholia?
Why not Ask the dry lips of your mouth longing for a kiss?
Yet no Answer came like the silence of the Dead Sea
Wandering and wandering across the endless isles in search for love
Oh poor MoeMoe how unfortunate are you among happy people?
Why are you still in love Young MoeMoe?
Answer now or consume yourself like stars all alone shining and burning in love.
Somewhere in Florida resides a lonely poet
Who have been succumbed to madness
He writes poems after poems for whatever he sees or hears
People see him writing and call him a mad poet
He writes for himself not for the world
Behind his words he finds a little solace
He writes lines after lines for which nobody cares
The world have not seen poets real madness
Poetry keeps him sane
Writing saves him from sanity
Let him write no matter how bad his poems are for strangers on the internet
All poets are mad
Only the readers remains sane
Our Medical perception is a Godlike Phenomena always accepted without questioning
An argument against COVID-19 Vaccinations is simply not a necessary but an obligatory one these days
What sovereignty a state has over its citizens to have them vaccinated without consent?
Can we really trust the COVID shot? How much more shared data, statistics and government support we need to put our faith on the big pharmaceuticals?
The medical gaze looks at us with deceiving eyes termed as bio-politics by Foucault in his book “Birth of Clinic” in the Archeology of medical perception
“An epidemic is a finger grained constitution, with more constant, more homogeneous phenomena”
“Epidemic is a political consciousness” argued Foucault further in this book
What obliged us to be obedient towards the governments?
It is the same Orwellian slogan “INGSOC” hate speech and fear of life
To summarize the concept of Homo sacer the ordinary man who is the ban in short the ban is the average citizen and the wolf is the government
We rely too much on modern bio politics to save us?
Epidemics has been part of our being since the beginning of mankind
First it was Jesus curing the lepers now it is the CDC and the pharmacists curing us with vaccinations and forcing us to wear masks?
Are we not even allowed to question?
Just because we lack the elite knowledge that a few privileged in the medical profession possess and know better than us?
Does that secret medical knowledge give them a right to dictate us?
It is same argument I put against God despite the fact “all seeing all knowing” give him no right to ask for submission?
I relate such notions to Tyranny where subjects lacks something and not to transgress is the fulfillment of that powerful command
Governments are no different than Gods in ancient world
They put fear in us for our lives and seek submission and control over us
Observe how the consent of every citizen is manufactured during the pandemic towards their governments and mainstream media “Chomsky”
Now the real question is this: “Should we take vaccinations or not?”
It depends on every individual as the world is their idea “Schopenhauer”
Whatever their minds conceive of the aftermaths of epidemic and their faith on the medical society
For me these vaccinations are out of the question
And it was a night just like this when visions of Norris spread across the Oceans
He likes to brag his miseries in public and loves to live dangerously
I walked with Norris on and on and on the streets from Nebraska to Floribraska
Looking for danger in black neighborhood across America
That Iraqi boy is lost and he surely got a lot of galls
To be so sure of his talents and romantic soul I bid Farewell to Shakespeare
Colt 45 and we chase our dreams in our highway blues driving a truck that cannot be turned right or left
The visions of Norris seems so cool
On a Broad day light I have the same hallucinations under the influence of cold beer
All that remains are infinite visions of Norris
In the empty lot of past I seek such notions far off from my present
Off we jump from a bar in ybor messing with white girls and to soho and to river walk
Being so uselessness and all while flirting
Oh how I can explain it’s so hard to get on
I still trick myself so seriously unlike the visions of Norris
I am drinking wine and waiting for the orchestra to begin
The waitress told me that’s her favorite brand
I forget the name of the wine and I must ask her about it later
The show will begin at 2:00 pm
I see a lot of old people in the theater for live Performance
I am the only young man in the theater who is passionate about classical music
I have became wiser before my time a lady told me when she inquired
I know deep down into my heart I will come out as a different person after the orchestra
Last orchestra I attended has such an artistic impression on me that I couldn’t sleep the whole night
Inside the Mahaffey theater slow jazz music is playing with chatters of people rushing in for the show
They are going to perform Dovraks new world Symphony today and clock is ticking so slow