Archiv des Autors: ichbindaswortistich

Über ichbindaswortistich

Philosopher, historian, poet, musician. Philosophic-scientific naturalist, individualist feminist, post-revolutionary democratic communist. ---------------------------------------- There are basically two distinct ways of leading your life. The first is to follow someone else into obscurity—blind, cold, and full of false promises. All over the world, there is a plethora of false prophets ready to abuse your faith and trust, ready to betray you at the next moment if it is to their own advantage. The second, then, is to enlighten the way in front of you by your own lights—take reason as your guide, and it shall never betray you. You may be wrong from time to time in certain circumstances, of course, yet it is not owing to your reason but your feelings that you may head for the wrong direction at some or other intersection. It is, however, better to make a false decision, so that you will have learned something in the end, than to be betrayed, so that the only things to remain shall be bitterness and repentence. For if you follow your own lights, you will be able to track your way back to the intersection where you turned wrong, whereas you shall be helpless once you lose your orientation in the tenebrosity of faith, so that there will be no return.

Human Filth

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When love is in the air, you may well be prone to suffocation. Contempt is the only means readily at hand to clear your mind. Always remember that the most horrible monsters dwell behind the most beautiful faces. Destroy them immediately before the monsters can awake to attack you. Set the remains on fire and scatter the ashes to the winds. Eradicate the memories so as to prevent the demons from haunting you. Cleanse yourself from the filth of human relationships.

Menschenleben

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Als Lebender geboren unter Leichen,
gehör ich nicht zu meinesgleichen;
von Anfang an dazu bestimmt,
die Toten zu begleiten –
im Meer der Hoffnungslosigkeiten schwimmt
ein Traum aus Eitelkeiten.

Das Menschenleben ist ein Haifischbecken,
um jede Ecke lauern Schrecken;
das Alter, das den Leib bezwingt,
und Elend tausend Namen –
wie immer auch ein Mensch die Zeit verbringt,
erfährt er kein Erbarmen.

[Born as a living among corpses,
I do not belong to my own kind;
determined from the outset
to accompany the dead –
in the sea of hopelessnesses floats
a dream of vanities.

Human life is a shark tank,
horrors lurking around every corner;
age defeating the body,
and misery a thousand names –
in whatever manner a human may spend their time,
no mercy will be upon them.]

The Life of the Intellectual

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There is nothing so cruel as to see things for what they are. The intellectual is enslaved by loneliness because his or her understanding is a barrier beyond which no other human being can reach. He or she must serve the truth, knowing there will be no escape from within his or her prison. And since the truth is the last thing anyone likes to hear, no one will ever even so much as attempt to free him or her from outside.

Tidal Wave

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It’s creeping up my back again.
Yesterday I still felt safe.
Once in a while a wish in vain
goes unheard, revives the pain
of thousand nights spent in this grave.

It’s reaching for my neck, I know.
Soft its touch, a gentle stroke.
Once in a while it goes to show,
while it bends its poison bow
to finally strike the heart it broke.

It’s creeping up my back once more.
What is left for it to crave?
Once in a while I reach a shore
just to squirm in my own gore:
for love comes in a tidal wave.