Philosophy – “No Point to Blaming Society” – 2/16/2021

“In this world, the denial of involvement is the confession of ignorance, not innocence.”

– Modern Romanticism

Those who deny their fate, are those who further construct their Hell.

What point to blame the world, if not in the denial that our surroundings have been made by our own hands? If we blame the world, then we do blame ourselves.

There are those who say that the world is to blame for an issue they have caused. Yet, these people, to the world, look ignorant. Do we know these people? Or, do we only need to know that they believe themselves innocent? If such people believe themselves as innocent, then it is always to the world, that they look ignorant. To believe oneself lacks involvement in their troubles, is the same to believe oneself as innocent. Though, in truth, such a person is only ever unaware of what is truly the fault. They have renounced themselves to ignorance.

To be unaware, or to be ignorant, especially with the embrace of such, has much to do with the cowardice for which is the reason people would blame the world. If a person blames the world, then they’ve renounced their freedom. They must adore being their own slave, with their mind as their master, if they believe they possess no control. It is only ever the definition of freedom, in the firm belief one has a true escape.

It is not to escape out of one’s issues, so much as it is mere cowardice in how a person flees, when this individual does not confront their errors. To be responsible, is to believe one is not innocent, though aware. We merely comprehend that we had much to do with the outcome. However, we are cowards when we believe we can run from an error, and then allow the world to clean up what we’ve caused.

Blaming the world is to blame ourselves, because the world is us. We thus have no choice, but to blame ourselves. That is because in the act of being wholly responsible, we are faced with having no choice. In being responsible, there is no choice, as there is no more a reason nor an excuse to escape.

It is for all these reasons that when a person is not responsible, that when they blame the world, they become embittered. Such bitterness has only ever resulted from a festering of the true fault, within that individual. They worsen what they believe they can escape from. And, when they reject themselves, they embrace nothing but continued ignorance and blindness.

Quote – “The Man who Cries” – 2/5/2021

“No man will cry over sentimentality. He will, however, weep when the boulder during the present, buries him further into the earth. The guilt, harbored upon his shoulders, docked as a ship within his heart, overloaded with the cargo of self-disappointment, offers him the curse of blame for what he could not protect. Competence is, to a man, his own pride. As he kneels over the ruin of what was once so beautiful, so gorgeous, there comes an innate sense of remorse to swallow his senses, and to ever be the last understandable thing to come embrace him.”

– Modern Romanticism

Philosophy – “Identity Politics, the same as Monarchal Bloodlines” – 9/12/2020

“Written in the ways of purism, is the idea that one blood is inferior, or lacking in quality, over another. To base politics around race, around gender, around creed, is to recede to the aristocracy mentality, though swapped. It is to say that impurity is purity. Perhaps it is that we are all the same, though not in the way everyone wants.”

– Modern Romanticism

Who is pure, in this world of worlds? Who can say whether one person has more in-depth understanding to their “self-discovery”, over another? Who is purer, to another, whose bloodline, whether crossed or stagnant, is only ever different?

It can continually return to the idea that a person, whose bloodline is only different, can be made brand new. Of a bloodline, brand new, it is the same as a bloodline, pure. It is the same as to see something more divisive than any aristocrat, who had power in the past, could make for competition’s sake. For do these people with their “identity” not relate to very obscure bloodlines, so alien from the common man?

All a person knows, so well of themselves, is that they can bleed, just like anyone else.

“Identity politics” is, therefore, an exact relation to aristocracy, in terms of the curiosity for the potency of blood. We can comprehend our ancestry, through a simple “Google search”. Whereas, in the past, we knew it by whoever had sexual intercourse with a woman. We can dig so deep in the past, to discover our identity’s “potential”, and then, become proud of who we are. For to be proud of who we are, is no different than any tyrant who would want to appear good, rather than do good.

The love of blood, is the love of making a statement. And, when do we become the vampires, who like Elizabeth Bathory, drenched herself in a virgin’s own? We do so, by accumulating newness. We make new bloodlines, discovering percentages of ourselves in our supposed “ancestry”. Again, in the pride of who we are, we forget to be proud for what we can do. That makes us ruling tyrants, that without the offered shame for this identity, we can conceal guilt.

People can be wounded, not of guilt, though for pride. Though, whenever will we give in, to a guilt that tells us we have bled others, for the sake of keeping what we most know of ourselves? We have bled other people’s pride, not ever giving in to this guilt we know we feel. Because, for how sour an aristocratic person’s expression can be, we overlook our guilt for how much we bleed. We put to death, another person and their supposed guilt, whether at the stake or at the hanging. To burn, or to choke, is the only punishment a person with a supposed sin, can receive.

It is to those that know we all bleed, that make those who are so vain for their identity, released of their head from their shoulders. Yet, they’ll still run around without intelligence, without recognition, and without identity. Because, as they believe in blood, the rest believes in sameness. The common man believes in same blood, same identity.

Consume the offered shame. Feel your inner guilt. Punish yourself.

Quote – “Why One Inevitably Feels Guilt for Pleasure” – 8/10/2020

“To act on impulse, without thought, with no clarity, is comparable to the psychopath who kills without knowing who he is killing.

Any person whose vulnerability defines what they share in the world, defines also what they are guilty for sharing. Meaning, that a person who shares their secrets with those who they do not know, will feel guilt, for that.

One is not meant to not ever trust. Instead, one is meant to not give themselves away, so easily.

It is, in such a sense, that a person will feel pleasure for giving themselves away. However, they will feel guilt, afterwards.”

– Modern Romanticism

Project #8 – A List of 10 Dialogues – “Beauty Reflects…” – Preview

Dialogue #1

“Beauty Reflects…”



Dialogue #2

“A Man’s Guilt Buried”



Dialogue #3

“A Woman’s Guilt on Top”



Dialogue #4

“Beauty is the Vulnerable Flesh”



Dialogue #5

“A Man, as the Beast”



Dialogue #6

“A Woman, as Beauty”



Dialogue #7

“When Guilt should not be Noticed”



Dialogue #8

“When Guilt compels to never Neglect”



Dialogue #9

“Love, for a Man”



Dialogue #10

“Love, for a Woman”



Excerpt – “A Dream once Loved” – The Rundown of Guilt and Shame – 2/13/2020

Guilt will override shame, so that the betterment of behavior creates the betterment of the self. Guilt and shame, with the former being a personal feeling, and the latter being directed from an exterior viewpoint. In a man’s world, guilt is felt by himself, for his action. In a woman’s world, guilt is felt by herself, for her inaction. In a man’s world, shame is directed upon him for his cowardice, due for his inaction. In a woman’s world, shame is directed upon her for her courage, due for her action.

All is inevitable in the world of the personal conflict, and the external conflict. This is how the world runs, with each sex being the opposite, and having polar opposite differences. Nothing is wrong in these scenarios described. When the prison population is overrun by men, it is only due to that the justice system is centuries-old, and not bound to change, unless corruption and advantageous gain takes hold.

Actions, for a man, are easy to be seen, and are most visible. One cannot blame a woman for her negligence, so therefore, guilt is not placed upon her. It is, instead, that shame is placed upon her for her actions.

Blame a man, as the external self, and shame him only for his cowardice. He will feel guilt, nevertheless, for his actions.

Guilt will override shame for a woman, so that her personal feeling of guilt for her negligence, will better her behavior to perform courageous acts. Guilt, for a woman, overrides her shame, and the shame being directed from external sources, make her not heed those who shame her.

Guilt will override shame for a man, in that his personal feelings will suppress all feeling of cowardice, so that he continues to act with courage. His courage is perpetual, in this regard, and arrogance or overconfidence, is common for him.

Poem – “How is your Guilt Serving You?” – Romance – 1/5/2020

How is your demise,
Appearing, before your eyes?
How are those closed lies,

Looking, before your closed lids?
How is every detail, quitting you,

While you remember what is deemed
Only by you,
To be necessary
for memory?

There are many things you should remember,
But, you’ll only remember specifics,
It is a pathetic way.

How is your guilt treating you?
Gutting you?
Eviscerating you?

How is it kissing you?
You seem to have cuddled with it,
Shared your bed with it,

Like death for a corpse,
Like music for the lonely muse,
Like silence for a shot deer,
Like peace for a cancer patient,
And you seem to be warm, when alone,
Among the numbness,
Like harmonies growing loudly.

We were together, in love, once to ourselves.
We were once alone, with our hearts, tangled in veins,
And now, you are alone, with your mind in its Hell,
I do hope your guilt is treating you well.

A Man’s Personal Thoughts – “What I’d do to Forget” – 11/28/2019

“A memory is much alike the waves of an ocean, in recession. And, when they recede from your feet, they’ll return, to throw tiny droplets as high as your nostrils, so you’ll breathe in whatever scent they have always come to you across. Whether they are sweet or bitter, you cannot forget.”

– Modern Romanticism

What I would do to forget the tragedy that folded my life over grief, over a lost love, over the pain still current. My life moves as the day descends into night, and I feel.

I feel what should have been cleansed.

I was in love, only for it to drop as quickly as a stone tossed into a lake. It disappeared without it ever beginning. The dream vanished, was crushed, before it ever begun. And all I have is my tears left to drink.

I had wanted my pain to be erased.

It will not be erased, as I expected.

There is no one to blame.

And I wonder, is this the time to blame God?

It should be the reason why anyone would blame anything unseen. Anything that is unseen, is always received with blame. The question of “Why weren’t you ever there for me?” is thrown at God’s lap, because we expected love to be practical in its healing, when love is never practical.

It is the same question that we may throw at anyone. Their presence was instead, an absence, and now they have been offered attention, when it is too late.

Unseen, that was love. Not given, that was love. Not fulfilled, that was love. An emotion I felt, though did not ever see bloom.

To blame, is never something I must do. How could I blame God, or love, or any loved one, who was never there for me?

She was, and still is, but is no longer alive in my heart. I now only remember her. Loneliness is now a degree of suffering I have committed myself to, and I have married it, instead of her.

And what I would do to be ignorant of it all.

The pain simply will not cease. It is my closest neighbor…

…and my closest rival.

Poem – “Face Me, Twisted and Broken” – Grief

Take in yourself,
The solidness of a new morning,
My beloved.
Your face is so very wet,
With the tears,
But I implore you!
Do not blame,
Yourself, for yourself is too new.

Face me, where you stand,
As your face shines the warmth,
Upon my disastrous form.
My body is heavy
With the pain of illness.
Disease has struck me,
Like the stick upon the drum,
Like the madness upon the mind.

My eyes are seen in yours,
As they too, swim in a lake of tears.
Do not be so idle,
When faces look upon yours,
To cast pity in your direction.
They are only in the attempt,
To be kind,
For they wish to offer a heart.

Take in yourself,
The solidness of a new morning.
My beloved,
Your face is so very wet,
With the tears.
But, I implore you!
Do not blame
Yourself, for yourself is too new.

There is much sickness in me.
Embrace me once more
Upon this rotten bed.
Let the tears be sweet,
And the kisses deep.
Show me not this pain.
But, make me a blessing,
For your heart.

Poem – “An Ode to a Buried Woman” – Romantic/Mournful

I cry often,
When I think of thy prettiness.
The emptiness of my facade,
When tears fall in short streams,
To be caught at the chin
That is where I swallow my words.

I choke back the emotions,
The loss to which I feel open.
I weep for about a minute,
And loosen my tears to the open.
I see swallows and pigeons alike,
Both hearing these calls.

I ride the current,
Down to where my end had begun,
And see with eyes so wide,
The world and it’s lifeless plenty.
The world seems so distant,
For we are an ocean apart.

We are the milk among the galaxy.
The disease among the many.
The beauty among the frenzy.
You have been the burning to my heart,
The blood that boils and flows.
And the enemy to which I love.