Philosophy – “Why Representation can go to Hell” – 12/12/2020

“Pride is restricted for the achievement, though only when it bases itself upon selfless acts of objective nobility. Pride is restricted for the self’s own image, though only when it bases itself upon the selfish inactions of both inward and outward negligence.”

– Modern Romanticism

Freedom corrupts itself when it is taken to the materialistic convenience, for a person. Freedom is pure, when we neutrally comprehend it as something pertaining to the heart, of love, for things that break ourselves from confinement. We are free, only when we believes ourselves to be, and never a victim. It is that “freedom” can only be itself, when we never ask for it, never plead for what we already possess. When we never plead for something we innately possess and can share, is when we understand ourselves as always being free. When we do plead for something already possessed, we turn to materialism. Then, “freedom” becomes merely about “who has the most”.

Representation of image is for the sake of sheer vanity. One wishes themselves to be a reflection of how elevated only materialism has made them. They were offered the convenience of being fattened to the point where they always glance upwards at their master. They are the slaves of materialism and convenience. They believe themselves not free, unless someone hands them “attention” upon a platter.

When we state we are victimized, then we are as any fly for the frog’s tongue. When one is fattened, they are soon to be consumed. Metaphorically so, for it is the person who wants more for themselves, who soon possesses no humility left, that another then wishes to become as they are. They become as the disease, spread as lard to make the meal for another’s consumption. As it is, lust is the heat that boils everything able to be consumed. When one consumes, they are soon to be consumed. The slow herd is able meat for the starved carnivore.

Representation of image always reflects back-and-forth mentality of the average consumer, making each person the bread to someone else’s hunger. To each thing that grows with quickness, of each element that spreads with the same speed, such as the fat or lard, such as the flame, it is the growth of a hungry population.

All this marks what is a human’s hunger to be represented. It is merely the hunger of being known, among a population too overgrown. Such means that one wishes to appear the largest. One’s own ego, massive enough to stand above the rest, is only the representation of vanity for the sake of itself.

Quote – “Why Business Manipulates” – 12/7/2020

“A businessman will look upon you as an idiot for believing he is ‘creating’ something. No. He is causing something. He is causing something to stir. He is causing someone to panic. There is profit from emotions, much like how a looter steals a television, while the chaos acts as a distraction.

The distractions of people’s eyes from truth, marks business as deceptive. The more chaos, the more money is made. The more distractions, the more people might die behind curtains, though people’s eyes have been facing towards what they want to know.”

– Modern Romanticism

Quote – “As the Rich Remain Rich” – 10/23/2020

“It is only the label of greed upon the selfish man, that will return to the labeler. To their envious eyes, the rich man holds more worth of his pocket, than worth of his heart. Hence, the focus by envy is upon the pocket, not the heart. It is in the effort to punish the rich, or to ‘eat the rich’, that the new rich spawn. For as the heart cannot be eaten, like love cannot, then it is the limited, though perceived to be limitless currency of the rich, that will be the poor’s nourishment. The impoverished or simply envious, were wishing to possess the same ingredients of success, though simply feasted upon better sustenance. The new rich are always the old poor.”

– Modern Romanticism

Quote – “A Man, and Sex” – 8/29/2020

“A man is gifting, when he forsakes what he feels, for the feelings of a woman. A man is vain, when he forsakes what a woman will feel, for the sake of what he can attain.

If, in bed, a man cannot gift to a woman her pleasure, in sole focus on her feelings, then he is not himself.

If pleasure should matter to the man, over the woman’s own, then he is not himself.”

– Modern Romanticism

Excerpt – “To not Sink a Friend” – Volume Three – Chapter I – Romance Novel – 7/21/2020

Love walks. She walks. Or, she had walked, and now she lays. Upon a back with eyes to a ceiling. Her ceiling. Her mind with walls and the drawn-in above. A world of hers, this Lisa, who can smile without sincerity. Radiance makes its way over her skin, masking something more than this. A belief she holds, that she keeps in disbelief. A denial, a saturation of her mind by something so entitled. Something so wanting to believe she cannot be this neglected. By a man, no less, because a man’s cruelty comes as common as dirt. To a woman, a man’s cruelty in love is simply unexpected. Simple to be unexpected, for she heard his honesty without question.

A woman questions no man’s honesty. A woman hears what she wants to hear, to then accept it. For what makes her smarter than any man? It is that the stains of her heart, are gotten used to, while she understands that to be a woman means to be used.

Wrong love uses a woman, comprehends her body as a place for a sad man’s discovery. His fingers are her rot. His ideals are her reveals.

Though, upon her back, with her eyes closed, and a pair of fingers between pillars of ivory, there can be lost sensation entering upon the shoreline. There can be a lost moment returning to trail itself in the leaves, of whatever Autumn sought to felled them. There can be the scent of a loosened body, riding waters like the wax of bleeding candles. She leaves lakes beneath herself, as clear as the ocean without the sky. Wax melts off her fingers, while she sails. She wails with her mouth opened into a circle. Her tears come collapsing to her cheeks. Her grief, such a stain that has a deepened spot in a heart that beats at its fastest rhythm. Blood runs, though it is cold.

Quote – “An Example to why Love Dominates Lust” – 7/19/2020

“If one can comprehend with ease, that the mind controls the human form of arms and legs, like a puppeteer controlling their puppet, then it should be easily comprehended that love controls lust. By that meaning, it is the mind being of love, that dominates the form being of lust. Love dominates lust, by the mind using what is always the tool. Though, in that, it is to say that the mind will protect the form, by controlling it to never perform the unwise decision. By the mind or love, dominating the body or lust, is to state that what loves protects what is weak. For the body is like lightning, to be gone, in an instant, at the stupid mind that controlled the obedient form. As the mind leads the form, it is always love that should lead the headless sheep in the herd.”

– Modern Romanticism

Quote – “Love is not Quantity” – 7/14/2020

“One cannot mass produce quality. Such is physically impossible. For the average human does not understand quality, as much as they understand ‘the craving’. A human craves, to benefit their body. It is that the form can be the only thing mass produced. Were the mind mass produced, it would be the same as love mass produced. Such is, as well, physically impossible, because love is not even physical. It is metaphysical, meaning that it cannot be constructed, or even what constructs the self. It it what constructs another person, in the gift.

Love is the quality, whereas lust is the quantity. We are not attracted by love, at first glance, as much as attraction relates to lust. It is the number, before it splits off from the rest. Then, it becomes attached to us, in a oneness of knowledge, being of the mind.

Love must be the brief spark of lust, at first glance to another, making the challenge to see that one as either among the rest, or apart from the rest.”

– Modern Romanticism

Quote – “The Difference between Hatred and Criticism” – 6/26/2020

“True hatred is life’s suffocation. It does not speak. It only behaves. It proves, by holding a hand upon the throat, keeping us from breathing. Love is a breath, yet it is a single breath. For we hold upon love’s breath for an eternity. We only let that breath go, when the one we love is released, and in death, there are no more breaths. Lust is the repeated breaths, chaotic and motioned. Lust is the numerously spilled sighs, countless in their number, unable to be grasped.

Criticism is the ability to better life, though lacks necessity upon death of that life. Whatever we mean to express, through our honest selves, is devout upon criticism. We want to better them, the life, before they die. Criticism speaks, gently through intellect. It does not act. It does not dismantle nor cause destruction. It merely reminds the listening person of what they already know of themselves.”

– Anonymous

Excerpt to a Novel – “A Dream once Loved” Romance – From Volume 2 – Chapter IV – 4/11/2020

The outline to her risqué shape, conjures up in Alessio’s mind the image of lust, dangling on the edge of canyon cliffs. As though he were the coyote to find the scrap of flesh, unknowing of the trap to bring him high. He would fall to bleed in her, a love that reaches miles across deserted straights. Though, the man who resides in him, may remain strict until the point of arrival.

Discipline steers him to slow his steps, leaving eyes to find him dead. Alive, though still awakened to the sight of beauty. What manifold layers of it to satiate him, the little woman before him, who is no sooner to quit her pace than any shepherd with his flock.

There is not much detail to be described, try as we might from behind the woman where Alessio moves his feet. A faint hint of what is noticed to be blush, can be see of her when she twists her head to the right upon taking to her curious notions. Another hint, of lashes made of mahogany color, lists itself as among the beauty to belong to women of this degree. Wealth is deep in her pledges to this modern world. Contemporary atmosphere has sentenced itself to her state, wild as it still may be.

Let us leave the graces of Paris to their small enclosures, of where protection comes from the surrounding rustic and cemented ceilings. They have feet where they can be, among hands that can care for what must. Life, too delicate to be raised, without the genuine touch of someone, should remain at its base.

This woman who has caught the attention of our Alessio, motions away from him all- the-more. It is enough for his face to give up the chase of something better than his paranoia.

He leaves love to scout out a wonderment in his heart.

A Quote of Wisdom – “The Metaphysics of a Relationship” – 3/20/2020

How is a woman beautiful?

She is beautiful, by not focusing on what will repel a man to be attracted to her. Her form, that is, because by not focusing so much on it, she places no shield between herself and a potential partner.

Beauty has only one place in the world: attraction. That attraction can make the abusive man come to destroy it. However, it could also create the attraction enough for a man to come to protect it.

A physical relationship possesses no feeling. Lust does not create the feelings that will speak of an eternity with the chosen partner. Love is metaphysical, not physical, and there are no differing perspectives on this. To prove it, comprehend what a body is. It is a mass of flesh. It is a shield, or a wall, and with much focus from a woman, makes her a barricade against attraction. She reinforces herself, enough so that such a form of hers, cannot be vulnerable.

One may say that the sex in a physical relationship possesses enough feeling. Though, is it not like a dying spark? It raises as an inferno, until it dies down quickly to a mere few cold embers.

Lust is the essence of toying with the physical. When a woman, who sees herself to be beautiful, as most do, or want to, will not ever be beautiful through continual dissatisfaction over appearance. Through intellect, however, a woman is able to become extraordinarily beautiful, because her second nature becomes her beauty.

The mind is only capable of possessing one primary focus, and one secondary focus. This means that should the form becomes the primary focus, then the mind is neglected. And, since the form is physical, then it also represents “what is visible”, and so what is invisible, being the mind, inevitably deteriorates.

Intellect deteriorates, when the form is so much the focus. We see, in today’s world, such a prominent focus on a woman’s form, though should she focus on intellect, then her form will become like a cloud. That is, for a man to pass through it, because she has not focused so much on it, that it no longer looks like an ugly barricade. In focusing on her intellect, she proposes attraction to a man. And, the protectors win, in this sense. They will always win, because beauty should not reinforce itself. To imagine it like the land of a nation being uninhabitable, acting of its own accord to directly destroy any trace of civilization, would we want this?

A man, who is devoted to love, lives in a woman. Then, she lives in whatever he has constructed, with his own hands.

Still don’t believe these words? Then, why have relationships “fallen apart”, because the recent movements for women have encouraged her to gather herself together? They enforce strength through those who are inherently vulnerable, because the very inevitable aspect behind relationships and an organism’s reproduction, is to be attracted to what has been seduced enough to not fight back. Why have the divorce rates skyrocketed, if not because beauty has strengthened herself so much, that men have a hard time understanding a woman?

“The Woman who Attracts Danger” – Poem

She carries fire atop her loins,

Spreads it upwards for the world to see,

And to breathe,

Red upon a scenery of pink,

And scents as raw as the flesh carved out

Of a wilderness beneath.

She attracts the goers to the flame,

She makes use of those resorting to disdain,

Brought out of life, and into Hell,

Where she brings up fumes and flame, from the well.

Carry a bucket, should you go to her,

And drain porcelain droplets from the tip of a torch

For her breathy consumption.

Carry the rope,

And tie it about your feet.

Create a bond between yourself and her,

While one end is held upon, by you,

And the other,

Held upon, by her.

She attracts danger

When she attracts the flies

To whatever bleeds, from her

Open heart.

Poem – “Lust in Fleeting Moments” – Romantic Poetry – 1/29/2020

How does one outlive
A thousand-and-one heartfelt gestures?
With a heart full of fear,
I beckon you to hear
How I shower the walls with my tears.

How would one burn through
The ceiling of Hell?

Beauty recedes with your eyes
Back to memories inside your mind.
Like silver tides, your tears are swallowed

By golden sands,
And feral hands.

Another penetration is needed
This time, for your virgin mind.

A learned soul, is a cold soul,
Exactly as mine.
And you’ll roll with me among the grime,

Sweating unlike the swine.