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Order this writing in the collection book Life on the Edge this huge volume is available for only $2395 |
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This appears in a pre-2010 issue
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The Three Deaths and Re-Birth of the Philosopher
Christopher Douglass
Dedication:
This poem is dedicated to that 3 A.M. Socrates who unknowingly brain fucked me and infected me with impetus. Dedication was re-born and everyday is its birthday from now until death.
In Lodebar. The hollowest of towns. In The Echoes of Time A.D. (After Drunkenness).The philosopher, stricken with narcolepsy sleeps. He sleeps on bloated pride and hollow thoughts. He rests assured. Knowledge lives in his head. This is truth? He dreams reality through thinning ethanol scope. Playing the part of the court jester (this is nothing new). Unbeknownst. The gadfly, Socrates, had buzzed in. Landing on his third-eye shut. He had been there all along but would now make his presence felt. To prove the oracle wrong he had gone from town to town searching for one wiser but he had found none. This is truth? And now. He was here. Precisely on time for the wakes. He walked in with Aristophanes, Xenophon, and The End. Standing poised to administer death. Socrates began probing the philosopher on his knowledge of good, beauty, and virtue. As others. Resting assured. He responded in generic sleep speak. Aware. Socrates pushes the dagger. Deep. Xenophon and Aristophanes take note for the story’s retelling. “Philosopher, I am sorry. You know nothing.” Grimacing in sleep the Philosopher, “What!? How dareÉ”. “The only true wisdom is knowing that you know nothing” The blade twists. “I am the wisest man alive”. This is truth? At that the Philosopher dies. Transmigration occurs. He. Now a raging bull head with inherited sleep. All is red. He roars opening the finest bottled up anger shipped from the pits of dark. The neon streets have become an arena. The bull head Andabatae with visor down to cover eyes of sleep. The crowds bantering in boiling blood. “Kill him! Kill him! The gadfly a sheep primed for the slaughter. “How dare you! I am wisdom! I am knowledge! I fucked Athena! Ate out pussy until she came! Wisdom into my mouth swallowed up whole!! How Dare you! I am truth! I am Athens!! I am the world!! So write your Apology now, dedicate it to me! Because I am the judge! I am the court! I am the hand that crams hemlock down your throat until you cease to be! Open wide!” The night stopped to stare. Some eyes averted. At what had become. He had become The Elephant Man. The drunken relative at the wedding. Like Waiting for Godot. He stood amongst them. Absurd. At this The Bull Head died. Transmigration occurs. He becomes a refugee inheriting sleep. Sleep running on anger shielding shame. Gone with the wind. The refugee, fleeing truth, ran familiar route. Through Anger. Through Shame. He broke the finish line in Despair. Sitting somewhere silhouetted. Unwilling to wake. He plays his first death on the TiVO of his mind hoping to see another truth. Death by truth. The most painful. Played a million. A billion. A trillion times. In slo-mo. Nothing changes. There is only one unchanging truth. Sullen. The winter of his discontent becomes an ice age. An eternity. The refugee still studies the moment. Excruciatingly transfixed. Becoming Giannatoni collecting all Socrates. Meditating on the words “You know nothing”. Truth on a different route. Had arrived late but in time for the last wake. Even eternity has an end. At truths arrival the refugee dies. Content. The Philosopher is re-born. Awake now to the realization. Knowledge never lived in his head. It had merely inquired on the lease. But his mind was vacant. Now fertile. Re-born a virgin he birthed dedication. Dedicataion to knowledge. To its cultivation. Though he would never truly know anything, he would be content as Good Will Hunting for knowledge. Trapped in cellulose. Forever a student. I know nothing. This is truth.
End Note:
This poem is dedicated to that 3 A.M. Socrates who unknowingly brain fucked me and infected me with impetus. Dedication was re-born and everyday is its birthday from now until death.
