I was recently part of an online philosophy debate on consciousness when a Moslem Phd holder became involved trouncing a complex series of arguments with references to Allah and the Koran. We are heading back to a dark age! All arguments reduced to the particularities of an unlikely supernatural force rendered in a poorly written book!
Once, a long time ago, and briefly, Islam was famous for its culture and its learned men. Now it only has poorly educated imams.
Wednesday, 13 April 2016
Descending and ascending
Descending and ascending, with
Nothing else to do.
Dazzled by an acrimonious sun,
Sighing for respite. An invigorated
Population returning, like penguins,
Squabbling back to the sea.
That said, evolution was a lie!
As hopeless as the resurrection
That destroyed the afterlife for everyone
But god. Whichever way you look at it,
We are still part of a master plan.
We go, come back, arrive
With no true knowledge of a destination.
We die in order to live
As if dying was not
by itself enough
And, in the end, exhausting.
We cannot it seems
Just eat, sleep, fornicate without
Singular purpose.
We demand not one big bang, a discrete
Example of energy formation, but a whole
Lot of little ones, which we confusingly
Call life.
Friday, 8 April 2016
Falsification: Mohammad as last messenger.
Falsification within Islam also concerns the notion that all other messengers or prophets are subsumed within Mohammad. That he is the final messenger.
One outrageous difficulty here is Mohammad's failure to relate to or mention the ethics of the Jesus figure, and mention at all Paul of Tarsus, the major Christian personality after the Jesus figure. Mohammad does not know what Jesus said and his own beliefs and his understanding of Jesus contradict those of the Jesus figure. Mohammad's beliefs remain closer to certain forms of Judaism.
One outrageous difficulty here is Mohammad's failure to relate to or mention the ethics of the Jesus figure, and mention at all Paul of Tarsus, the major Christian personality after the Jesus figure. Mohammad does not know what Jesus said and his own beliefs and his understanding of Jesus contradict those of the Jesus figure. Mohammad's beliefs remain closer to certain forms of Judaism.
Sunday, 3 April 2016
cold
A cold wind
A cold wind blew
when the light went.
An accumulation of warmth
came from copse and hill,
cheap spawned and self created,
as the night renewed.
He walked home, careless of his stumbling steps,
and softly threw his bags to the
floor, demons on the hearth-rug,
coiling snakes and insects everywhere.
It was all behind him now.
A sullen fist of half-remembered regret,
the weather-laden wood carrying his dreams
in each silver flaked leaf.
A half-remembered face, an
age destroyed beauty.
It was time to go now!
Time to go!
The frost enthralled clouds interlocked
when time slowed,
leaving half dead leaves languishing or intermittently
crashing to the ground.
Few left or returned,
combating time.
A half-remembered life
spun from seconds.
Sad voices in half-remembered intervals.
when the light went.
An accumulation of warmth
came from copse and hill,
cheap spawned and self created,
as the night renewed.
He walked home, careless of his stumbling steps,
and softly threw his bags to the
floor, demons on the hearth-rug,
coiling snakes and insects everywhere.
It was all behind him now.
A sullen fist of half-remembered regret,
the weather-laden wood carrying his dreams
in each silver flaked leaf.
A half-remembered face, an
age destroyed beauty.
It was time to go now!
Time to go!
The frost enthralled clouds interlocked
when time slowed,
leaving half dead leaves languishing or intermittently
crashing to the ground.
Few left or returned,
combating time.
A half-remembered life
spun from seconds.
Sad voices in half-remembered intervals.
Friday, 1 April 2016
gladiator-stephen francis
A Greater Man
I had held myself as a greater man,
A soldier aloof from the whims of life.
The only things I cared for were the gladius in my hand
The screams of my enemies
As their blood dripped from my blade
And they lay clawing at my feet.
I went whoring with the boys
Played with them games of dice
Laughed at their jokes.
It was all lip service.
I did not care for their ways,
The ways of lesser men.
I was a soldier whose only lust was for blood.
I was better.
The new recruits came
With their beardless faces.
They huddled together for comfort,
Some cried to their mothers
Others prayed.
Those simpering wrecks were of no interest
Except for one
Erasmos.
With the stature of a god
The confidence of a titan
He stood amongst his peers
As a man stands amongst children.
It was not long until we sparred.
As good soldiers there was no need for words.
We both knew what was obvious
What was as certain as life and death
We were brothers in arms
Of the same breed
We were as one.
The fight came.
Outnumbered ten to one
We fought
Until blood soaked our faces
Our enemies and our own
Until crimson flooded our eyes
Our noses
Our mouths.
Before night fell we were the only two left
Alone in a field full of ravenous beasts
Of coprses waiting for the crows
Left to rot in some far flung land.
Their gaping snouts salivated
Waiting for the chance to sink their blades into our flesh.
A new emotion filled my veins.
I was no longer fighting for myself
To satisfy my lust for death
But for my kin standing next to me
The god made flesh
It was as we stood back to back
As I felt him stand firm against Fortuna’s whims
That I knew I was finally what I claimed to be
For Erasmos
My love
Has made me a greater man.
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