Philosophy – “How Hatred is Born from Love” – 10/18/2021

“Love knows. It does not ignore. A human factor of trust allows love to deepen, that we come to know more of another. Would betrayal be another factor to that human connection, we then take our knowledge of that person to the next life. When we move on, we can plot revenge, though being no different than the person who brought on betrayal. That is because even through hatred with the motive of vengeance, we are still equal. No better and no worse in hatred, as we were there for them, in love, for better or for worse with our vows.”

– Modern Romanticism

It is not love that ignores. Nor is it hatred. Both love and hatred belong in the same place, though only the latter is born from the former. It is in the risk of being hated, that to love and to deepen such through trust, we are showing colors we would not express to anyone else. Would we betray a person, our risk to be hated is in the other exploiting what is now known. This repeats a cycle that follows the other, who was the betrayer. Love doesn’t choose. It occurs, without warning or hint. However, the one we love is special. Though, that does not mean this specialty was born upon foreknowledge as to what should be selected. Would love have anything to do with selection, we can match it to the bottommost level where one is neck-deep in poverty. Natural selection, or to survive, is when an organism is most-suited to survive given their environments. Would love have to do with this, it would represent our limitations, not what inspires ourselves to be beyond the focus of them.

What does ignore is the one with a negligent mindset. Of negligence, it will be the refusal to know an individual, marking them as the same among a group, that nothing else of its likeness can be differentiated. As it is, no individual among a collective with its broad sweep of a singular emotion can be differentiated. A collective is seen as a singular, already. Then, whoever ignores or is being negligent chooses to not know the individual.

Out of knowledge, only for the individual, hatred can be born when the comprehension of their individualized story is received through empathy. Sympathy sees, though is limited by looking upon an individual as a collective. Sympathy is distanced. Empathy sees the other the same as the self. Thus, the notion of equality repeats itself, here. To love is to be equal. To hate is to be equal. An understanding of this to know. Since it is knowledge that, through mutual trust, can bring on a mindset of fear as to what might be lost upon the instance of betrayal, equality can compare to both love and hatred when both sides are equal to the potential of being exploited. However, it would not be only the simple case of exploitation, if such is being expected. If a side is willing to forgive, this would come along as least expected.

To love, once more, despite being hurt through betrayal, means to forgive. It means to forgive not only the other, though have the acknowledgement needed to see the self as never innocent. It means to then forgive the self.

Since knowledge is a product of love, it would also be the same for hatred. Love grows into hatred, because of what is known of the other. It is the betrayal that displayed a different side of the person we would not have expected to be a traitor. Our lack of expectation to that is a match to the lack of expectation to anyone who would forgive a traitor. Although, their expectation of an act of vengeance against them would be a factor for what is unknown about ourselves. If one betrays, one knows not. If a person forgives their betrayer, there could not have been expectation to this. If a person enacts vengeance to their betrayer, there was expectation to this. Although, the knowledge from the traitor in them first exploiting the one betrayed could not be whole when love, being never a choice, has no place among survival when it would forgive the threat, not do it harm.

Poem – “When the Air takes Her” – Romance – 10/4/2020

Lace your hair,
Trace your flesh
Marble by whiteness,
Losing strain
With each of your twists,
Dancing on floors
Where your reflection mimics.

Dance this way,
Fall into my arms,
Awaiting when you can smile,
Far from the crowds
With their hurried glances.
By every love,
By every fallen vow,
I take you.

Like droplets from your eyes,
Becoming stars.
Like beauty that never withers,
From the frost of November,
I can breathe Heaven down your throat,
I can make your idle dreams
So much a reality.

Let fall your arms,
Go limp your legs,
I will wrap a cloak of undying love
Around your tired body.

Philosophy – “The Idiocy Behind Self-Love” – 9/13/2020

“One should name themselves as weak, and forever such, when they dislike the idea of attaching themselves to a non-material thing, being a person. For if they were to lose that person, it could not be seen as expendable. It would be seen as forever lost. True strength is only ever bred when one can rebuild from non-material things being lost.”

– Modern Romanticism

One realizes the extent of pain, once their heart has been shattered. One, as a generous sort, might say that their act of trust upon people, going into their act of generosity upon people, was taken for granted. Could it not be that these supposedly generous sorts took for granted what they allowed in their own lives? As in, the person who easily trusts took for granted all those who entered their lives, in treating them as expendables? One can only take something for granted, when what exits their own lives, is an expendable, and cannot be something the same as them.

When one loves themselves, one will be stagnant, in the belief that should one lose something never to be seen as an expendable, it was of no real consequence. That stagnancy amounts to perpetual weakness. For weakness can only be imagined of the person who could not endeavor to love someone else, more than themselves. If they did love someone else, more than themselves, they’d comprehend what it means to lose something that wasn’t a mere inconvenience in their life.

Self-love is only ever the idea of maintaining a materialistic mindset, when they cannot differ the material from the non-material. For of the non-material, there is love being given to those who are people of flesh and blood. How selfish can a person be, to love only themselves, always more than someone else, because all others cannot be attached, non-materially? Selfishness has to be defined only as attaching oneself to material things, and never to the non-material things that would be protected.

To love another person, more than yourself, allows one to understand the meaning of loss, were they to lose that person. More importantly, they’d understand the meanings of words like “dishonor” and “disgrace”. For loss can only ever be felt, when that non-material someone was loved more than the person who is loving. A loving person must love someone else, more than themselves, or it is not love. Love is sacrifice. Love is honor.

To believe one is strong, through loving themselves, makes them perpetually weak, because they are stagnant in materialism. One can imagine this as the morbidly obese person whose literal stagnancy has made them unwilling to give material and expendable sustenance to those who are starving. For if they did, they’d have fasted, and understand the meaning of sacrifice, not loss.

For to sacrifice, is not the same as loss. We lose, when we lose what we love, being something always non-material. We sacrifice, when we sacrifice what we cannot love, being something always material.

Quote – “The Difference Between Racism and Hatred” – 9/6/2020

“If to be personal means to have once trusted, then to hate means to have had that trust betrayed. Though, it is only ever when the attachment was personal, that love becomes hate. Love turns to hatred, only when trust is betrayed of a personal closeness. To be racist must then mean to fear all those who pertain of such familiar likeness to the one who dealt the betrayal. If that of people who are white speak to those who are black, as betrayers, then it is those who are black who become racist. For those who are never close to the betrayer, only fear what may transpire, again. Hatred cannot pertain to racism, if personal connection is never again a factor.”

– Modern Romanticism

Philosophy – “A Critique on Gender Studies” – 9/2/2020

“If deception becomes believed in this society of ours, we’d only know a person by the mask upon their face. For beneath that mask, is the truth. The mask, itself, merely represents us covering the truth.”

– Modern Romanticism

Truth is a oneness. A wholeness. If we splinter the truth, we fragment a reflection. We are disordered, confused, and divided when the truth of ourselves is not anymore arranged and centered. When it has been split from being arranged and centered, it becomes perception. Perception of truth, is a lack of familiarity upon the truth. For as truth would be whole, then the interpretation or perception of it, will merely be ourselves holding a fragment of what has been seen.

The mother who recognizes and is familiar with her child, by their face, holds true to herself the wholeness of that truth. It requires not the time to analyze, so that truth is discerned, of what the mother recognizes. Were the mother needing to dissect what she sees of her child, to understand what she is meant to be familiar with, it would be the same as someone of a new gender, wishing to dissect themselves. In doing that, the person of a new gender has thrown something from within, onto the outer. For anything of dissection, would involve fragments, among the numerous pieces to construct a new shape.

For when a person is neither male nor female, they are the creation within the tale of Frankenstein. Victor Frankenstein’s creation was made from different pieces of people. Fragments, that were put together, to form something so unfamiliar, so inevitably unaccepted to human eyes. For those human eyes would be familiar with something biologically natural. With the mother example, what is biological between mother and child, is what the mother sees of herself in the child.

Familiarity and recognition are innate factors to a human, that recognize the objectively natural aspects to natural creation. Anything artificial of creation, is objectively a monster to human eyes that cannot understand something, as a reference to wholeness, what has been created with fragments.

All of what a new gender is, is a deception to a human eyes that would inevitably recognize a whole truth. For truth is only ever fragmented, when it is perceived or interpreted.

For what mother would recognize a child who is not her child, biologically so? It must be that of those Transgenders who still experience depression, even after their acceptance, relate to an adopted child. An adopted child most certainly wonders about their biological parents, as their creators. An adopted child most certainly feels depressed, at a loss in their wonderment to their biological parents, even after being accepted by their foster mother and father. Who does the Transgender wonder is their creator, if they have created themselves? Where does the Transgender find acceptance, if they deny their creators have made their own objective biology? Depression is their eternal curse, because acceptance can never be of those who have interpreted themselves.

Just as the creation of Victor Frankenstein sought Vengeance against its creator, so do Transgenders seek Vengeance and death upon themselves. Thus, suicide.

In everything of a reflection, we are biologically familiar to what we see. If what we see is not familiar, it is a monster. If what we see is familiar, it is truth, and it is whole. Fragmented wholeness, becomes an interpreted or perceived truth. It becomes the broken mirror. It becomes the individual fragments that show individual faces of ourselves.

If a mother cannot recognize her own child, how can a human recognize a Transgender who is not biologically accepting of even themselves?

How can a human, like a mother, accept someone who is not of biological familiarity? In the same sense, how can a Transgender be accepted by those who do not recognize such “biological familiarity”, if this Transgender is not even accepting of their own biology?

Philosophy – “The Objective and Inarguable Difference Between Justice & Vengeance” – 9/1/2020

“Justice does not steer us in a direction, nor does it conform to the emotion of anger. One is calm, through Justice. One is decisive and planning, through Justice. One does not maneuver with a blade or gun to the target of oppression, and call it Justice. For Justice is never personal.”

– Modern Romanticism

The objective fool will call “Justice” to be a thing based around anger. It is not, factually so. How is anger an element to Justice, when Justice can only represent order? When Vengeance would destroy, how does Justice have its mention in destruction? How is anger an element to Justice, when anger will only breed fire? Fire wastes. It wastes and relives that destruction, over again. It causes a cycle that does not end, until forgiveness is placed in the middle of it.

Anger is only a reaction. It must be suppressed. With anger, fumes from smoke are caused.

Nothing about Justice relates to anger. This is a fact. Anger is on the side of Vengeance, not Justice. When a fool will state that Justice must be “dealt”, through his or her anger, they are speaking of Vengeance. Vengeance tears down. Vengeance does not raise. Justice would repair. Justice would forgive. Only a fool whose grief and anger has gotten the better of them, has flooded their mind, cannot see that it is Vengeance, not Justice, that makes hatred known.

Fires bleed through the streets, as it holds the same coloring as blood and innards. We rip, tear, and yank in Vengeance, as Justice would only be gentle. It is Justice, too, that remains stagnant.

There is no movement that can claim Justice to be its strength. A movement moves. Justice does not.

Justice stays within.

Vengeance would seek to kill. Justice would seek to live.

Emptiness blots out life, in the Vengeance that had killed the beating heart. What animals of the streets must be tamed by the leash, so that they do not use their anger, when they cannot be calmed, on their own? It is pitiful.

Speak of truth, through Justice. Speak of lies, through Vengeance. To call your Vengeance as Justice, is to be the epitome of all liars. One is the untamed animal, deconstructing the building to make the wood and leaves, once again. They are now in the wild, with their primal instincts, disgusted at development, grinning at downfall. What a sad story.

To my Love…

There is nothing so decimating as the heart giving up.

It is why I won’t.

You are everything. My light would diminish, if I stopped loving you. It is a light that cannot vanish.

My love! My light!

My world. You are everything.

My eyes fill with tears at the thought of smelling your hair, kissing your hand, running fingers along your thigh, dreaming of worlds that will have us. I cannot let go.

I will dive into that abyss after you.

I will love you, even after the sun stops shining.

Tears will stop. They will stop.

Poem – “On the Stream of Forevermore” – Romance – 8/22/2020

When will you walk
Without the hard stroke
Of your aching feet?
You impatient
Woman, with too many blocks
To wields in arms, meant to
Carry something far more soft.
You stumble
On iron.
You dream of empires
You cannot even kiss.

Why do you implore over
Why do you wish for me
To step aside,
That you might construct
Another Hell?

I love all waking moments
Of your eyes
Against the sunrise.

I kiss your tears back
Beneath the lids
Of your always-roaming gaze.

Why do you desire
The ever-roaring fires
To spark thoughts to flare
To bore down dreams to bare
Breasts by the cold ignition
Of your ever-more hollow stare?

Poem – “Beauty’s Capturing” – Romance – 8/8/2020

How may I see
Through the lens of a broken camera
She is to be
Viewed from each side
With admiration,
Upon adoration.
My eyes
Surface to the edge
Counting falling droplets
From ducts that never erased
Memories from the lakes.

Why despise
What I can love,
Her beauty is captured in stillness,
Too still.

Death leaks overboard
My arms that held upon quivering movement.
I let her drop
From my loosened embrace,
From my sorrowful escapade.

She drew up,
Once drew up
A hand that reached for the moon,
As now the sun in my heart,
Grows dark.

I fanned the flame,
As I shall still do
To the next day.

“My Contempt for the Self-Love Culture” – 3/30/2020

I will ridicule this mediocrity of a mindset until I am frozen and dead in the grave.

It is pathetic. To sugarcoat or create a euphemism for the word “narcissism” and say that it is “self-care”, makes me tremble with rage.

Love is an emotion that can only come from an external source. If that is not the case, and one says this is only an “opinion”, then we should each just make a deserted island to call our home. At that time, we will discover loneliness, writ large.

Darkness is loneliness, as it is sometimes said. To be alone, is not a feeling one can consider to be only partial. It must be total and absolute. To be alone, must either come from total isolation or hanging around the wrong crowd. Isolation is still the feeling of dread.

We don’t have of the terminally ill, who know they will die, their truest fear in the knowledge that they will die. Their truest fear comes from knowing that barely anyone is around to care for them.

Walk inside a hospice, and you will discover some of the loneliest of sorts to still live for but a few moments more.

It goes to show that at the time we will truly leave the Earth alone, we wish to perhaps be holding hands with a loved one.

Has a person of this “self-love” motto ever considered that they could be stuck at loving themselves? That, they’ve been saying to themselves to love themselves, for many years? Is it something we teach to children? That is weakness, incarnate.

If we still deny that love can only come from an external source, then we must not be honest with ourselves. We must not, because we must be hanging around a poisoned crowd, continually being hurt. And, if we are to be honest with ourselves, then we should know that love is the most honest of emotions. And, if we are to be honest with ourselves, then why say that “self-love” is not narcissism?

That last part WOULD be honesty.

If Transgenders or those of any other “identity-spreeing” mentality are those who also belong to this “self-love” culture, then it is clear that they relate to confusion, at its epitome.

Because, nothing can be honest with the self, if one doesn’t know what honesty is. Honesty is, by its only definition, clarity. And, if one is continually being betrayed by external sources whom one deemed to be trustworthy enough to be around, then one doesn’t know themselves. And, if one doesn’t know themselves, then they are confused. And, if they are loving themselves, then they are further confused by not realizing that love is not at all backwards in such a regard. How can love do anything backwards when it is the one emotion that blinds us? Are we then saying that we are indeed living in that loneliness, of darkness?

If love is light, then it WOULD blind us. It WOULD teach us, if we are brave to be vulnerable to what we do not know. Love presents us with a world, beyond merely ourselves. And, that world is something of light, of enlightenment, and not of the darkness of ourselves where no light can spawn, without another to give it.

Does a lamp turn on by itself? Does a candle become lit by itself? No.

However, does a lamp turn off by itself? Does a candle blow out by itself? Yes. Though, only if it is left alone.

Loneliness. Darkness. This is the proof that love cannot be something of an inner self, unless one has turned that darkness into the corruption of narcissism.

Poetry Series – 6/10 Poems – “Break Me Away” – Failed Romance – 2/17/2020

Bleed, as I do, for the cruelty in the dew,
Of each tear that falls as elegantly as you do.

Break me away
From you, on this horrid day
In the fragrant meadows, where the stench of death
Permeates, as wild as wild decay.
I swear, I had loved with a finger pointed to me
To stay where you suffered.

Love was holy on this ground,
And so I tell you to break me away.
Because, I have become something I shouldn’t be
Upon this night,
Where not even Christ would unfurl his wings,
To see me in plight.
Far too much misery has soaked my sight.

I tell you to break me away.
Because, it is all I know, to be selfless
And to consume the horror, I have engulfed you with.
By my claws, pawing at my own flesh,
By my eyes, that refuse to see myself
In the light,
For I have lost my sight.

I tell you
That I have lost my sight,
Before I lost my hearing.
I lost my way
Before I lost how to hear you,
Upon any day in the gray.
Your suffering has become a silence.

What is the way
That you dance and sway?
Where is the way
You have pointed for me to stay?
I was in love with loose decay,
Upon the cross of feelings lost.

Bleed, as I do, for the cruelty in the dew,
Of each tear that falls as elegantly as you do.

Poem – “Your Absence is Present” – Romantic Poetry – 2/14/2020

My heart fills with the solitude
Of a thousand-and-one waking nightmares,
Up from the deep blue,
Where each horror had slept in deepest rest.
With the sun burning high above,
Not nearly enough,
To wear down my discarded love
That does not dry on the soft sands.

Love is a failure, upon my weary shoulders,
For my death is near.
I can hear them at my door,
The entrance to where I am seated,
And they will ask for me
To reveal.

Love should burn, with a fierceness of no neglect.
Love should churn, in the hearts of those who had seen
All of it, for its success.
What is my pain,
What is it,
When it won’t die down, for it is the sun.

Love flees,
Love had grown
Among fields made of iron,
The scent of blood.