No knows

 Insight on epistemology: 

one never can be certain of knowledge

 in that it is renewable, expanding and questioning by nature.


Feelings are experienced, 

so they transcend the known and become manifest as being. 

To close the circle, only true knowledge is of how we feel.


 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Volleyball

I am not a volleyball despite what some may think. I am an honest man, I work hard and I stink. I am not some pseudo-man acting one way while hiding another, pretending to be me. I could just as well be my brother. I am not invisible, I am not bandaged and hidden. I am the one so few encounter, I am what is obvious and given. But in a world of players in this world where truth matters little I am still not a cats toy,  I will not be covered in spittle. So play your games, hoist your net, but don't be surprised or saddened at what you'll never get. Some men are real, some men are fake, I am not a man who wishes to be on your plate. Some women are fish, some men are fishers but I've never ever been one to cast a line to so-called well wishers. I am He, who plants corn and spinach and broccoli, I am He who waters those in need, I am not a porn star or a man who values deceit. I am a man, an honest one best I
Read more

Death is an asshole

My head is confused, my emotions are subtle and nearly flat. I don’t really know how to go, so I go as I always have...with perseverance and faith, inconstancy and doubt. I write that and ponder how one death, albeit the most important death other than my own, can make of an entire world an alien universe? I have survived nearly 18 months of grueling grief. Had I been asked to choose between this and running a weekly barefooted marathon on broken glass, I would have chosen the latter. But there was no choice, Death is an asshole that way, just shits on you and walks away. But thank you, really, Death. You exposed yourself for the fraud you are. You dare to take their carrion flesh, corpses are your trophies. I shit back at you. Stinking Death. Nothing you do takes the Love. NOTHING. That is exactly what you think you leave us with. Nothing. But you are so jaded, having killed so many and most without even a thought for how loved they
Read more

The Cripple and the Crone/( thanks to the Bros.Grimm)

The two, like characters from a fairytale, lived down the road from the good place. They had wasted their years in vanity and consumption and had nothing to show but a shabby house. They hated their limitations, they hated each other too. When he or she would get a chance to visit the good place, they brought their bile and poured it in glasses to serve all around. The people of the good place overlooked such evil, wishing instead to be accepting of differences. This bothered the crone to no end. She found someone new to hate. She developed a tale that would make the good place bad. Her lies she would craft to make all the virtue she had been shown, dissolve in a lie of epic proportions. But she made sure to hide it from all who offered a sympathetic ear. She painted all the kindness as imposition, she tarnished good names for her own amusement. Sadly, it was the community that suffered from the lies. The good place remained good and the 2 never found their way back to it again.
Read more