/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.18551758]

Ok lit, I've gone into the mountains, into the deserts, and I've returned. Not very long will I remain among you, perhaps but for a day, and then I'll turn headlong again into the desolate wild places. I thought I would impart something I think is of use. At least something I would have wished to have seen when I was lurking in the darkness grave obscene unseen in this degenerate scene of ghouls. And willingly have I returned to spit and lay disgust upon this foul and vacuous place, that one or two or three may have advantage by my inclination.

[Anonymous No.18551762]

Out of ignorance: sin. The coming into ones own: becoming. The finite limits of one thoughts: words. Out of death: life. Through the fining process: dross and silver pure.
Metaphysical Method of Post-Modern Mastery.
That is to say, the state of learning from the dead, through modern means, as ancient ones are lean and meagre, vain and foolish to pursue. That is to say, by reading ancient texts, though in a modern fashion, through use of tools. No use in foolish vanity. None.
Through endless loneliness and emptiness of joy comes knowledge and fruition, of self of wisdom.
Still oft the modern vanity itself compells one to think or maintain that learning and friendship are only conferred by flesh and warm tongues. Not so. Ones colleagues, ones generation, being crooked and degenerate, a decadence, a false resolution, a poor and frail constitution.
Through screens of light will darkness thus be smite'd. Hyper-anarcho technism. The X factor. The internet, the realm of forms, the playground for projections and psychoanalysis abound.
The body aches before it breaks, but then awakes the instinct of survival, and in the wake a corpus fresh and new ensues in lieu of weakness strength enthralls. So oft the body clings to things it knows and is familiar with, yet as the governor the mind must guide him well, so ever long to dwell, and so expire in foolish fire.
The internet as a collective consciousness thus requires a collective unconscious, a set of archetypes, but also a set of unconscious activity and flows of influence, a confluence of thought. In the same way the internet is not tangible and exists only physical in electrical current: the brain. Consisting of the very material of the former analogy, and yet a mirror image.

[Anonymous No.18551768]

>>18551762
In this way, see thus:
Dwelling in the swelling interneted flows, interlinking never sinking,
And entering the desolate Academy, Gymnasium, or Lyceum,
one sees them only fallen in flesh, in form yet still adorned with honor, might, and glory,
the texts derived thereof, the texts to learn to read the former texts thereof,
and one is interfacing with the flow of time, a river broad and fine,
for time exists not in nor of nor for itself, but only in its mere effect,
and in effect one sees the remnants of the ages derelect,
and so one then convenes the council of the wisdom of the world, unfurled and hurled
he is through time and occupying space, yet never walking in that place,
nor thinking of the time, yet only of the destination destiny and of the reason of result,
And in ones servitude, and great discipleship, and yielding mind to those one finds,
no masters much less lords confined, but rather teachers brother friends and family,
for they have suffered too through time, and left their line to be thus called upon,
and now this council smiling rejoins, and speak they each their tongues yet all are understood,
and Plato laughs and guffaws with Confucius,
and Moses with Elijah, David: Solomon,
and Kant with Freud, and Cicero with Caesar,
Homer Virgil Shakespeare Dante Milton Chaucer Goethe,
Thoreau and Emerson, and Kafka Kierkegaard and Dostoyevsky Tolstoy too,
and Aristotle with Aquinas draws a drink of pink and subtle wine,
and Luther with great Augustine convene and lean,
and many more, too many to count, but in some time theyll be all thus recounted,
if one can take the time to stay oneself and to remember, recollect,
and then at once they turn and look at thee, with weary eyes,
with great regret, a loathesome sigh, a sadness in their very bones,
and smiling they all nod and gaze at you with great regard and expectation,
that thee would enter freely into freedoms tutelage,
and see what could occur when given into mercies hands, away from cruelties lands,

>>18551762

[Anonymous No.18551773]

>>18551758
>>18551762
looked interesting at first (I actually took time to read most of it) but this just sounds like schizobabble mate
>>>/x/

[Anonymous No.18551777]

>>18551768
And see in this way the internet doubles ones capacity of consciousness. The internet contains all that one must claims and hope to obtain, the knowledge the wisdom the grace and might of ancients plight. For never has there ever been a generation all of great regard, but in a fantasy, and so these ranks of men so great, were drowned in flows of time, yet now they are a generation of themselves, outside of time, and one can join them too, if thus applied and thus submitting to instruction and rebuke, chastizing and learning.

[Anonymous No.18551798]

>>18551773
this, unfortunately for the effort.
this reads very forced and like you've taken the (most interesting) facts and factual concepts all stuck together--and like you've never been to a desert before.
you know what living in the desert feels like for a month? it's hot. that's the only thing a water skin westerner things. it's magical, yes, but it's also hot. that's what you have. desolation and hotness. this is no sanctuary, it's just silence, chaotic silence.

[Anonymous No.18551799]

>>18551773
its written as a schizopost, thats the point, schizopost as a literary form

[Anonymous No.18551811]

>>18551798
the desert isnt a physical place, you misunderstood completely. The whole point was that the entire concept of the world as a metaphyiscal internet-conscious construct and not as the vanity of physical forms but as real platonic forms. Of course going into a material desert is worthless. Theres nothing to be begotten by corporeal experience but vanity and pomp

[Anonymous No.18551982]

>>18551758
See you tomorrow poser

[Anonymous No.18552037]

>>18551982
I really havent been here in probably a year or two, and have made much more progress in my reading and studying than I ever had previously, so I won't be returning. It seems that having ears, you all still hear not, and are caught in the vanity of reading without ends, only as a pursuit of pleasure or some equally debased and lowly desire. I leave you all will record of my supremacy over you all:

A forest fires seeds of pines from conflagration lines,
the earth that dry, the sky that black, the trees that red,
and tendrails fly, and feet lay tracks, and death life bred,
a hundred howls of heat, and thousands snaps like sleet
of snowing sheets of coming inspirations stir,
as air takes burrs of blurs, and summons souls to seeds,
the foliage fertilely fresh, to found the future mesh,
and all the same they grow still all more different,

Then silence softens sounds of sundry sources soar,
as if life focused on its growth and would speech loathe,
begreened redeeming rivers run from solemn heavens,
as death most verily occurred, yet now life flurs
in flourish fully formed before but now reforms,
and roots run out and shout that they may nevermore run out,
and leaves take leave of lowt, of height they grieve they'll heave,
and stems and trunks conive condition freedom from perdition,
and all at once the earth resumes its annual grooming gird,
and all at once the line resounds a heartened cry,
and all at once once more they soar into nigh sky,
and all at once the streaming rush of time, that rushing herd,

Envelops, entailing fruit of flight, for all new life.
The Past is more a recollection than a real erection,
built on and up as one sees present fit requires,
but never rightly there in its own beings right,
The Future falls as foolish figuring and frantic
attacking grasping at the horizon receding everquick,
but for its furtive furrowing fingers never find,
So Now the minds must occupy, this present strife.

Now time occurs and blurs as former fires' flurs,
and happening and passing now it happens and it passes now.

A there before, just as before, this beauteous form,
of pinetrees sliding shadows, of needles nitting nurseries,
as hymns of breezes mat, and soothe the ears of all in series,
of flitting forest fowls, of fluttering hearts of humming birds,
as tones attuned to owls and tomes and treatises theyve heard,
of subtle wanderings of driving bears' intinerant lairs,
as if entirely unaware, the prior battlefields singeing singing,
and thus therefore, just as before, continual storm


Good and evil have nothing in common, and so beauty and ugliness, return to your filth and meagre rations scum. Sayonara.

[Anonymous No.18552098]

>>18551773
Lmao I bet you think other poetry is "schizobabble". I'm just imagining how quickly a modern buzzword spouting tard would get fucking strangled or stoned in any time during or before the renaissance.

[Anonymous No.18552105]

>>18551758
>platonism
no thansk mate. furthermore if you're going to impersonate jesus at least do it humorously and give us a laugh. the only valuable thing you gave us is an example of the tedious sobriety of platonism. you obviously hate the people so you have only 'returned' to them to indulge your own vanity.