Contortio Mundi (Twisting Universe) is a full-length poem (201 stanzas) about the nature of Creation and our journey to know about it. It’s a happy-go-lucky frolic into the depths of the fabric of matter and thought.
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Belief
Beliefs are not a reliable criteria for reality.
Vera
It is a universal law, that a system needs to go into chaos first in order to change its structure
Ernest Hemingway
There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.
Albert Camus
The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.
Spirit of the Herd
Out upon the rising sun
The horses gazed, as if were one
Shadowed by the early light
Their empty eyes beheld the sight
Which triggered instinct deep inside
And set in motion rippling hide
As gracefully as the waving manes
That lined their necks like dancing flames
The horses ran to meet the sun
Or, perhaps, to simply run
The herd shot forth with lightning speed
A mass of one; a single steed
For each horse lives to play the role
Of giving the herd a central soul
Leo Tzu
A leader is best when people barely know he exists, when his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will say: we did it ourselves.
David Icke
In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king
Marcus Tullius Cicero
“A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and carries his banner openly. But the traitor moves amongst those within the gate freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of government itself. For the traitor appears not a traitor; he speaks in accents familiar to his victims, and he wears their face and their arguments, he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men. He rots the soul of a nation, he works secretly and unknown in the night to undermine the pillars of the city, he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist. A murderer is less to fear. The traitor is the plague.”
Pitiful Little Pepe
Pepe Orsini
Has a wee little wienie
He wraps it in Francis
Who slow dances pant-less
While Pepe sucks pus
Through his odious buss