Writing and stuff


An Arctic man might visit Britain in December and believe it to be Spring.

-What we feel as cold, may be mild to others.

Is our scope on good and evil just as subjective?

Maybe, in some slightly different history of humankind, a scraped knee is the apex of tragedy and donating a kidney is like offering somebody chewing gum.

It is all about how we perceive the degrees of good and evil.

Meta-ethics strives to define ‘good’ and ‘bad’, ‘right’ and ‘wrong’, but it’s always going to be limited by the fact that the spectrum of morality is dictated by two things:

The middle-ground: The balance of good and bad we experience frequently enough to be considered normal.

The extremes: The furthest reaches of good and evil that mankind has witnessed or experienced. 

If cataclysms like the Holocaust, or natural disasters, never happened, what would be our view on the superlatives of evil? 

Alternatively, if the world was plagued by genocide yearly (with a birthrate high enough to endure such a thing) for as long as anyone could remember, what is considered really good then? Not witnessing death for a year?

Our view on the degrees of morality is built upon our own actions, not upon some divine law

The Passage of Time

The Passage of Time

From the naivities of the mind,
To the callouses of the heart.
Through beauty of one’s kind,
To the decadence of its art.

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Stare http://wp.me/s3aNKJ-stare

If I were to ponder that one afternoon,

Down the rabbit hole I’d fall again.

I’d walked until I saw myself in your glare,

Through the sea, the throng, the crowd,

You were there, still and intense,

Like the barrel of a cocked gun.

It wasn’t your stance or…

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Pretty Questions

We can describe the reactions that beauty evokes: pleasure, satisfaction, admiration.

-But what of its origins? What is beauty?

We could argue beautiful art is art that conveys its essence or subject well. For example, a painting of a horse would…

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Collect your fuel

Let the flames erupt

from your kindled mind, the ash

shall never settle.

Your mind is but a furnace and the world

is your fuel.

When the licking flames,

gently recede,

into uninspired embers

you must remember


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In a Perfect World

In a perfect little world

That scintillates with good

The bleached and dull excel

 at doing what they should.

With not a single thing awry

The sun and moon retire:

What’s the use in noting days

When virtue can’t expire?

The downpours only truly shine

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