Juvenal09

As you might have noticed, most of my stuff is more than a year old. Well, I just written my newest poem, which has gotten some rave reviews.

Go over and read it my peons. The power of Juvenal compels you.

As you might be wondering about the recent flood of entries, I recently rediscovered a lot of my philosophical musings. The reason for bringing them here is because, unlike my essays or responses to specific arguments, these 1) have a creative edge to them and 2) often help give perspective into the thought processes behind my more terse poems like Prelude-Old Boy.

Due to my having several forums on which I post my work, I had neglected deviant art. After some reflection, I realised that I had overcrowded my blog (seeminglyimpossiblequestions.b…) with various stuff and my poetry had gotten lost under the stack of essays (most of them for college or in response to some random person).

I would be glad to get some followers here, though I doubt I will.

If anyone has a question about me or anything dealing with philosophy, science, religion, or politics I can write them a response. Though this is typically what my blog is for, I will gladly have stuff posted here, especially if it is related to a question I get on deviant art.

The painted face, how real, how fake
Always tempting to say real, how much justice
In calling it more false than words.
It is but a painting

Aided by painted tongue
And painted praises
And painted company
And painted needs, belongings, emotions….

Palpable falseness….
To free reality from the hyperreal map
To tear it asunder and liberate the face
From its imaginings, its comfortable, pretentious smile

I remove the painting from upon the wall
From its high place and call it false
Then I point to the window it covered and say "Ah-ha"
The window be falsely colored, show me the color of the real world

I will not be made the fool.
Not by my fellow men, not be play upon like a pipe
Not contorted into a soulless machine made only to work endlessly
And produce more work for tireless tired generations to come sadly into being.

I do not open said window;
I tear it from its foundations
Climb the wall to oh glassy window which had been placed so highly.
The walls have ears but no mouth unlike the false face.

They hear without listening. The painted face spoke without speaking.
I must liberate myself, not be claimed by the wall.
I must remove the painted face, but not let its sticky surface capture me
And turn me into another false idol.

I will liberate myself through the hole I created.
No longer will false exercises hold me so tightly.
If I am to participate with the wall or the painting forever from my leap outside,
It shall be on my terms.

So I say unto the hearing wall, "Adieu!"

Just started today. I wonder if I will have anything to make, being not much of an artist an all. I am more of an writer but I do appreciate a good artwork/ i am currently taking art history in school so I might be able to draw from that background.