Afflatus Archives

2# 6 The Invisible Man

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 10:03:00 +0000

   "That day, the man entered a room. But he didn't."

And so, the apple fell
But the prism broke
All sin, no color
Some smoke

Black, and whites
Laugh, and cries
Mourning, and evelings

The love, that didn't come up
The one, who never showed up

The song I never played
The man who never came

   T H E I N V I S I B L E, M A N

     The one I waited, all along
   The one who didn't, show up

THE CLOSET

Cheated I walk
Defeated I pass

A wrath in his eyes
The blood on his mind
The skin of my back
A whip in his hand

The questions he asked
The answer I didn't have

The look that she gave
The stand she didn't take

He dragged, I cried
I screamed, and tried
I held on, he went on

A wide view, a narrow path
The sweat on me slipped
The blood on him dripped

A man in me, lost
The man in him, found

Drained, drowned
A brown clown

Some gain of hand
A grain of sand
The green land

GREEN EYES

They said its a list, I heard it a list
They said we are lost, I heard we were lost
They said its the way, I heard it the way

They lead me on, I chased them off
They left me in heat, I found them in cold
They made me cry, I made them laugh

They said you are wrong, I heard I was right
They said you are mean, I heard I was green

Mean is green, Man is yellow

I gazed at my watch, and it stared at me

The hands were ticking
But I could not, hear them anymore

THE ROAD

A crumpled piece of paper

A lost bit of thought

The shaded white, the faded black

The first word

The last song

We get what we need

We miss what we want

An evening walk, a yellow lamp

An empty tree, a red shadow

His eyes said yes

His words had no

So what did he say

I just don't know

Life is a laugh

And death a pay-off

I lived in his love

I died in his laugh

My fear of death

My love of life

The half, I wanted

The man, I needed

The man I never was

The love I never had

I ran. He ran

Stumbling down the hill

Tumbling all the way

Crumbling all the time

Flying with the wind

Falling with the sun

Gain, Grain, Grin

Green, Green, Green

Yasir
Featured links: none

3c #3 Who Am I

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 15:20:00 +0000

And then 'the only course left to a man is unconditional surrender.'

I am the child of dark, born in fire
And the haunting dream of a midnight summer

I am a man who mistook his wife for a hat
And the dog beneath your skin

I am the tulip gardener
And a broken cry

I am Moor's lost soul
And your found sigh

I am the clown of a valley
Half man, half woman

I am who I am
Who are you

Z E U S

"What if noone comes?"
Well, then the no one will take care of it

Hope is false, beauty is negative, and truth is imagination
Mirages deluge, mirrors break, and promises disappear

Mirage, Mirror, Promise, Hope, Beauty, Truth
False, Negative, Imagination, Lies, Break, Disappears

Yet the magic goes on

Because the angels whisper to me
The enchantment takes me over
And I finitely fall in an infinite matrix

A magical comedy and the comical tragedy
Freaks are misunderstood
Reality is an overstatement

WHO ARE YOU

'A horse is only a horse after all.'

From shade, shards, and shadows
In sigh, signs, and signatures
Through shall, shallows, and shames

From sugar to sombre to sober
In sensual, sensitive, and senseless
To sublime, supreme, and surreal

NO ONE & NOTHING

"To live or not to live?"
To die. But in that, the death of them all.

I'll raise my sword
And I'll cut their throats

I'll kill a thousand men
And I'll murder every soul

I'll sublimate the distance, I'll raise the strata
I'll choke sapphires, I'll breathe desire

I'll bleed the skies, I'll smoke the cries
I'll feed the thunder, I'll walk the clouds

I'll ruin that all in these shores
I'll wreck it all in those waters

Because I love you.

In the flow between no one to nothing, I am immortal

Colors speak to me, darkness yells on
Death steams down, life rolls up

And I fly.

I'll read you the stories of my sadness
And will write you the ones of my madness

You'll read me lust
I'll write you love

You'll make me human
I'll give you divine

You are high, I am human

And I love you.

AFFLATUS

"Maybe I don't want to save them all. Maybe I just want to save you."
Yes, but I'll pretend until I have to.

In this fleeting moment, an eternal mortality
In this passing shadow, a dismal reality
In this rising shine, a silent minority

I am you. And you are me.

One day, I'll reach you

I'll run your hair, I'll walk your skin
I'll feel your lips, and I'll drink your tears

I'll dive in your eyes, and will never rise.

With the heart of a warrior
And the hands of a savior
I'll hold you close

And I'll take you to a land
To kill my self, and only to save you

I'll hurt you, I'll bleed you
But I'll suck it back. And I'll drink it over

I'll cut the wind, I'll stop the waves
I'll break the rocks
Only to save you

I'll rise with oceans, I'll fall through sky
I'll burn heaven
Only to save you

I'll break the promises, but I'll hold the blemishes
I'll soak the fires, and I'll soar the blues
Only to save you

I am inside you and outside you, you are the thing in between
You are my afflatus. Who am I.

Yasir
Featured links:
Argalia Meets Qara Koz: The Enchantress of Florence (Salman Rushdie)
Emerging Academics of Intimacy 2.0 (Stefana Broadbent)

3a #4 Surgery Squares: (1) Cuts & Cracks

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 05:12:00 +0000

"Addiction is falling in love, seduction is rising in it.
People don't change, only time does.
Or does it?"

There were times when I just stood in the scorching confusion and drowning desire on the other end of the road hopelessly waiting for the magic that never happened.
The journey that wasn't there. The failure that didn't occur, or didn't it?

I like my drink black, but in that instance, all I wanted was some milk.

Here is the moment of creation
The mother singularity
The great bang

I am the pale-skinned, cold headed, heartless merchant of death.

I am the sensual creature of pleasure beneath the bloodthirsty, pain hungry warrior.

Irony is that the margins are clean and yet, everyone is yelling.

Y E L L O W, R E D S, & B L U E S

WORDS & SENTENCES

If everything is a metaphor, what is the metaphor itself?
Its an answer.

A question is like that deep desire that burns inside your left chamber when you gaze far along the road and all you see is a dark, wet bleakness. All you seek is a blank bleak lie in a black black universe.

"Lie to me"
Love is fair - fairly unfair.

"How can we know what's fair?"
We can't. But we know whats not.

"Lie to me."
Maybe I lied all along.

Give me words, and I'll give you a sentence.

LOVE IS CRAP

"Would you like the crab thing?"
Oh, I love the crab thing. It sounds like crap, but it tastes different.

A hole is a gaping absence of numbers - a profane reality in a cold, sold delusion.
A mole is just more - 6.0221415 x 10^23 parts of a single, pure, boring profundity.

Love is the rationalization of a loser that universe is fair - its just not.

But you cannot lose when you make your own luck
Or the luck makes you.

You can see the future when you create it first
Or the future creates you.

"Read between"
Yes, but only to write beyond.

"The games are nothing, but the names of the shames that you are shedding off"
But the names are nothing, just the ol' shards of madness catching on.

The skies turn blue, the pigeon stares again
But all I find inside is nothing
A hollow deafening emptiness - the kind with no beginning or an end.

In that, a struggle against a frozen blanket of fear and its tangled shadows
Beyond that, a screeching cry for everything unprecedented.

LOVE IS SHALLOW

Because the sun rises, the fire burns, and the blood freezes
And 'yet, it moves.'

Shallow: I love you
Yellow: I love you.

Yellow: But you don't understand what love is.
Shallow: Yet I feel it.
Yellow: Exactly.

Shallow: What is love?
Yellow: Love is a self-centered delusion. It begins in a self-serving dream, and ends in a self-defeating reality.

Shallow: What is love?
Yellow: Love is not to win or to lose. Love is winning first, only to lose second.

Shallow: If you fall in love, you can always rise.
Yellow: No you rise in love, only to always fall.

Yellow: That and except when failure is not an option. That and except when you fell long ago, and now the only option is to fly.

Shallow: So, what is love?
Yellow: Love is a stream of consciousness threading a barren, frigid, empty chaos.

Yellow: Its the lines on you and the lines in me. Its carving sense in a bleakly senseless, purposelessly blank, and meaninglessly black existence.

TO CUT IS TO CURE

Life is like an absurd, provocative, psychotic bleed in a sad, unspeakably violent neuroses.
Its a steep screaming slide into an abysmal, criminally silent magnitude of nothingness.

"Why does someone have to live?"
Someone has to live, because someone died.

Cut is to cure, as cure is to cut
Because the blood whispers, before it screams
Because the pain flows, before its decimated.

Hope is a fallacy in a fantastically cruel containment.

"Is it pink or black?"
Its gray.

"Is it a hole or a triangle?"
Its one. Its hollow. Its empty. And its a square.

"But then why do you want it?"
Because I know that I am wrong.

"How do you know?"
I don't. Its just that its the way I feel.

"How do you feel?"

I feel, like the first drop of blood - that must pang of pain
I feel, like the first tale of love - that pale stain of lust
I feel, like the first fantasy - that only desire

I feel as if a wave hit the sands and took away the searing tops and burning troughs
And all that was there was still the sand, but moist and saturated.

I feel like I wrote an end before the beginning
And someone read it all the way.

And there was 'a moment of bliss, that would last such a man a lifetime.'

Yasir
Featured links:
From Open to Minimally Invasive: Cardiothoracics @ NYU (Aubrey Galloway)
Success in the Ticking Clock (Philip Zimbardo)

3c #2 Conversations with Dr. Cockroach: (3a) Revenge

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 11:56:00 +0000

Tonight we meet 'a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully.'

Welcome to the divine comedy
A radical fantasy
The greatest show on Earth

Its the dance of roaches
And I am the death of God
God of a replicating madness
The one who never was

I am a fanatic creed, born to a blithering lie
An exception to the rule, that proves the exception
A glacial fire in simmering waters
The other side of a mirror split

God kills God tonight
I am God's own revenge

L U C I F E R

'If you are sleepy, let me put you to sleep'

KNEEL

Hello Babylon,
This night, its not a matter of choice
Its the choice itself

To the people, for the people, by the people
Sorry, into the people!

Since the enemy is inside the gates, I say lets give the public a service
And if they haven't died yet, they will now

No peace for martyrs
If death is what they want
I say lets give it to them

I am Socrates' poison, Giordano's ashes
And Galileo's trial
I am Machiavelli's last dream
And Carlin's morning glory

Because it took them 400 years to figure that it moves
And it will take them another 400 to get over it

Because 'its better to be cruel than kind'

"So would you like to be loved or feared?"
'It is best to be both loved and feared. But that is an exception. And when compelled to make a choice, anyone will fall to fear for security than love.'

"Why does someone have to die?"
'Someone has to die for others to value life more.'

"Are you saying that the blood of idiots doesn't matter?"
I am saying that it matters, but only to value that of the ones who are better.

"And whats all the talk about death being the same as sleep?"
'Yes, the difference is that when you're dead and somebody yells, "Everybody up, it's morning," its very very hard to find your slippers.'

'All you have to do is to walk about until your legs are heavy, only to lie down next.
And then the act will be done.'

So, I say let it be.
Hit me.

THE DIALOGUE

In times when the one who pronounces the sentence has greater fears than the one receiving it, only the question, the fire, and the dialogue survives.

Cock: Hi, we meet again.
Dock: Yes, your Majesty. We do, indeed.

Cock: I see that you love me but you fell.
Dock: Perfection, my Lord, is one thing. Idealism is another. Idealists do ideals, perfectionists do deals.

Cock: But you are neither. You are a cynic.
Dock: Fancy that, because a cynic is only an idealist disappointed. Broken, unsatiated, and unfulfilled.

Cock: That's human.
Dock: No, its divine.

Cock: You are not leaving anything for them to hang on to.
Dock: Losing all hope is one thing, having none is another.

Cock: You've been unhappy because you have desired things that cannot be.
Dock: Desire, my Lord, is the need for things that we can't have; for what we can, is greed.

Cock: It's an end.
Dock: And a beginning.

RISE OF THE ROACHES

"I am the Geometry Of Death, and you are my obedient puppet."

I am a riddle to the riddle, of the riddle in the riddle - from the riddle
I am a left to the left, of the left in the left - from the left
I am a rage to the rage, of the rage in the rage - from the rage

You are the pooch and they are the roaches.

Selfish hideous beasts crawling the planet with their consuming, relentless greeds
The portable opportunists chasing the fairies at the bottom of the garden.

They look up to the heavens and reach for stars but end up oggling at genetically unstable milk machines, holding at the rotting roots of the tree in heaven and its forbiddingly forbidden fruit.

Filthy, dirt based bipeds, jerking off at their erect pointless miserable priorities, no-brainer political one night stances, trying to make sense of their purposeless, infinitely dumb lives.

Me. Me. Me.
Its always about the me and my erotic escapades
The hedonistic algebra of the Y chromosome

How come you clean your balls every week, but forgot to shave your face?
How come you are the holy warrior, and I am just a revengeful loser?

How come mommy likes daddy's nuts, but sissy doesn't blow you?
How come you are all brothers and sisters, and dad is not a pervert?

How come all your women do hijab, and all your goats climb the mountain?
How come pornography isn't right, and mammography isn't wrong?

How come the Q book has all the answers, but you read it online?
How come an earthquake is God's shaking hand, and 9/11 is just a mullah's penis ramming into your mother?

How come you'll get virgin bitches in heaven, and I'll sleep with movie stars in hell?
How come I look like a dog, and you are the shape of my dick?

How am I a frustrated pervert, and you are the one enjoying all the time?

I am the wrath of their actions, and the deception of your words.

What makes us pretty, is what makes them ugly.

I am not laughing at them
I am laughing at you and them
And you know, what I mean

If you believe in God, I believe in Hell.

Yasir
Featured links:
Memes, Selfish Islam, and Infectious Repititis (Dan Dennett)
Going One God Further: 'Militant' Atheism and the Nation of God (Richard Dawkins)

4 #3 Mortal, Motels, & More-tells: (3) Irony

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 17:02:00 +0000

"The ark is broke

   The waters have taken over
   And its now that deep inside blue depths
   Are stirred the cold shadows"

Searing images, smoking curves
Frigid curtains, distant lures

Let the blinds unfold
The crimes untold
And through the night
Let the dark deluge us into Neverland

E L I X I R

SPREADINGS

I have a feeling

The kind that you sense all over you
When you try to move
Waking up from a long sleep

The kind that makes you want
To not open your eyes
Because the lids have dried shut
And the tug to escape it all
Hangs in a balance
With the tyranny of fear

The kind you get
When you finally break the cocoon
And walk out into the city
Only to find the smoldering ashes
Of what was once a jostling reality

Tragic? No, funny

Because in the smoke and rubble
All you want to search for
Is that flickering spark
Beneath the coal and dust

I like silence

It might show less than there is
But it always says more than you expect

That is not why I like it though

I like the deafening emptiness
Because it makes me reach for
A voice that calls me home

Irony? Yes

Anyone?

YOUTH

When you live, you lose

"Are you talking about unfulfilled love and being a loser?"
No, I am talking about the Nobel Prize in Medicine for sequencing telomeres, discovering telomerase and humanizing the mechanism, two decades after the work was done

"What is a telomere?"
A telomere is when a man shares his spoils with two other women and doesn't get spoilt

"What is telomerase?"
Its like when a high achieving woman admits that she couldn't have done it without shoving in the founder effect

"Whatever, you are an anti-feminist, chauvinist, and a sexist"
No, I am a pro-feminist, chow mein, and sexy

"Chow mein?"
I go both ways

"Ok, I get it all. You are just saying that women still haven't evolved on, from cave days!"
No, all I am saying is that they finally seem to have evolved off, a bit in the right direction!!

RESURRECTION

I'd like the poles to thaw out and the oceans to give in

I want everything
And I need nothing

I want to fly above
To dig below
And to swim beyond

I want heavens to fall down
And infernos to rise up

And then, in the crumbling greed, blinking hopes
Climbing shadows, and tumbling dreams
I want the fires to burn down everyone
And the smokes to cover up everything

I want an end to all of us; and a beginning in some of them

MORTAL, IMMORTAL

Come with me because then, you might die but will never go to sleep again

At the heart of our mundane struggle
To survive the present moment
To forget the past
And to not regret the future - when it arrives at front and leaves on back
Lies the conflict

'To be or not to be'

Heavens or stars
Happiness or hope
Bleaks or blanks
Roads or journeys

We are control-seeking priests, the primate beasts
Control is what we yearn for
And in gaining some of it
We lose all of it first

Losing the grip in holding it is not paradoxical
Its ironic!

Who are we?
Tragically insane

What does it mean to be us?
Insanely tragic

Let me ask it
Can you not escape the mind of Zeus?
Can we not just ask the questions through the day, everyday
Without knowing the answers till the night, each night?

Why is everything that you see lies outside the box
But what you want to see is inside it?

I don't know the answer

But lets just say that I like this conflict
No, I want it

Ills are finite, hope is immortal

And that is the only irony that matters
If you know what I mean

Mean is green. Man is yellow

Yasir
Featured links:
What is Life? DNA: Story of a Crystal - James Watson
200 years of Cancer Research - Robert Weinberg

3a #3 Surgery Spins (2)

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 11:53:00 +0000

"Cutting edge is when you are cutting at the edges and they are not yours"

Its about two organs
Pairs of them

The ones that matter, don't count
The ones that count, don't matter

S T R I N G S

HARDWARE

"Why surgery?"

Surgery is about disseminating it all over, about and inside, until you are de-semenated. What can be better?

"Why spin?"

Because I miss operating rooms

"Why?"

I miss operating rooms

Ones with high definition cams
Multiple widescreen monitors
Blazing lights, screaming knives
And sparkling scrubs
Laced with smell of blood

I miss the haunting death in freezing corridors of high rise surgical platforms @ York Avenue

I miss the free spirited hotties in lab coats
Dirty jeans with bad hair and coffee stains
Walking in and out of Rockefeller

I miss the morning rush of Upper East
Sweaty interiors, rapid exteriors
Dew on steel, looks off glass
And the gray rise with hidden skies

I miss the gliding days of burning
Adrenaline
The hunger through the day to save up
For Indian food
And the thirst through the night to muster up
For American dream

And I miss the crowded labs
With clunky hardware

And desperate foreigners trying
To make it up the ladder

I miss the bustling jolt
Of those pavements
And the fluttering pulse
On that street

I miss it all and I want it back

I will.

"So?"

Rehabilitation is for retards
Re-habituation is for misfits

"That's nice"

No, only cutting people up is nice
Do you know what's nicer?

"What?"

Waking them up and summarizing it!

"Weird"

No just wired a little different

"Prove it"

Most people find it hard to spell it the right way

Surge: What do you do for a living?

Zurge: I transplant eggs

Surge: Oh, good one. I know what it is

Zurge: What?

Surge: An egg transplant is when you are a surgeon with eggs, and you like transgenic plants

Zurge: Shut up!

Surge: Kiss me!!

CHEMICAL LIGATION

'So about the big questions in life. I read Socrates. That guy knocked off little Greek boys. What the Hell's he got to teach me? And Nietzsche. His theory of eternal recurrence. Great. That means I'll have to sit through the Ice Capades again. Its not worth it. And Freud, another great pessimist. I had years of analysis and nothing happened. My poor analyst got so frustrated, the guy finally put in a salad bar.

Maybe the poets are right. Maybe love is the only answer.'

And then I flew

I soared the thin air
I sailed the blue skies
I rose above everything

With her

I winged the gray zephyr, she scoured the blue yonder
I sucked the cold wriggles, she floated the mold inklings
I wafted the gust, she crafted the lust

With me

And we reached an isle on Pacific, with no specifics
A world of auburn dreams, amber steams
Caramel wilds, chocolate sands

Through a buff surge, in the rust craze
Inside softening shadows, across lunar highs

I stayed there, she laid bare
And dazed forging waves on receding shores
I gazed her eyes
And all I could see was my color

BENCH, BEDSIDES, & THEATERS

Between bench and bedside, there are many lies and an operating table

So you see, everything has a spin except the spin itself

The point of a mask in an OR is to unmask the other

On bench, pain is not accepted
Only understood

By bedside, pain cannot be quantified
Only scaled

Off table, pain is not a silent end
But a loud beginning

On battlefields, in wilderness
And inside an arena

Blood is not wasted, only burnt

Who's not a falling stream, just a storming ocean

But are you lucid?

RADICAL AGITATION

I say push me, because if you'll push hard enough, I might fall

And you will rise. But that will be a delusion

Yet better than the one that you are in right now

We all hate medicine. We are all afraid of surgery

Diagnoses makes us sad. Scalpels make us mad

And the ones not affected, are the ones insane

The question that separates us and them

Does the hate burn you enough to fight?

Does the fear turn you enough to live?

We want not to cure the pain of others
We just want to escape ourselves

We want not others to be healthy
We just don't want to sick ourselves

"Faking sanity is worse than feigning it the other way around"

And that is why, I hate jokes
But you are all pleased by them

Yes, I am a surgeon

I mean that there are exceptions
I am willing to ignore!

There is a limit to everything, of course

But it applies only to the limited ones

Let me tell you again what irony means
Irony is that you can't be more ordinary
Than the ordinary itself

On the two sliding sides of that curve
You can only be special
Or lets say, 'fake' it

You cannot put scalpel on someone else without a consequence for yourself

You cannot feel pain in their skin without a bleed in your own first

Because the ones who can, are the ones insane

Yes, the abyss stares back. Still, most of you don't

And that is a paradox

'Adventure is when you risk your own skin to prove your platitudes'

Scalpel, please

Nerves are gray but so is steel

If I am creepy
Would you like to creep me?

Yasir
Featured links:
Surgical Error, Failure, Fallacy, & Fatality - Atul Gawande
New York City: 400 years - Eric Sanderson

4 #2 Mortal, Motels, & More-tells: (2) Motels

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 14:05:00 +0000

   "What separates the first and last is between
   After first, is behind and beyond
   After that, is upwards, backwards and again
   And then, there is distance"

A distant ship
On the far edge of an ocean
Doesn't disappear

It just goes into the horizon

Because the cell divides
And that is the rule

L I F E

QUEST, QUEST-INS, & QUEST-ONS

Life has a price
Strife has a toll

Against the cold death
Beyond the blue beth
There is immortality
But it comes with a tag

We are afraid of it
Because we don't get it
And what we get
Is just what we don't want

So the question flashes back
And the answers head on

STARES TO HEAVEN #2

Cynicism is only an idealism, unfulfilled

That is what his stare has been saying to me all along
'At least I galloped - when did you?'

Year 2000: a figure of silence
And a chair on wheels
At an angle

"What do you want in life?"
I didn't know what to say
But I couldn't help not giving her hope
Everything.

And the question remains
So now you know

The day she came in, I entered a room
She was she, I was me
Then she became just her, and I was only me
She walked out, I freaked in - with me all by her

9 years of grief, 5 years of longing, a life of passion

She visits me, I travel to her
And we flow between no one to nothing
Filled with everything

Present doesn't exist
Past, only to serve the future
To cope or to conquer

I might not be there yet
But she is not here either
And that is, as she never left
Since the day she came in

She is not my hallucination
I am a delusion of her reality

Reality might be pretty, hallucinations are always prettier

V. FOR VIRGINIA

What are V?
Who am Eye?

Is it a neoplasia? Or the neo-plasma
Is it life? Or something like it

Every solution has a problem
Unless the problem is a solution itself
Its not a price, but the cost

Its not a tear in fabric
But the fabric itself

Life is once, death is forever

Wrapped in shadows, beyond the opaque
Inside the gray, and embedded in white
Lurks the repetitive denominator, the cumulative index
The central dogma, and the hidden agenda

Because the pixels are falling
And the cells are failing
Its only getting ugly
And we are all dying out

In the rising tide
And through the creeping mist
We search the clears

Because skies are to birds
As limits are to limited
Because when molecules boil
Metaphors melt

Censor is like silence, to the senses
Its the death of sensibility
Its the hurt to sensitivity

Scream, please!

Mind
Talking circuits, whispering fluids
Bleeding thoughts, weeping soughts

Hidden lumps, poison chunks

Lymph rich, blood poor
Blood stitch, lymph tour

Molecules
Broken tissues, master cells
Bleak masses, malignant streams
Odd stats, grim maths

Desperate plans, aberrant schemes

Pretty colors, dirty smells
Naughty faces, dotty eyes

In the deepening night
There was a darkening light
When death was multiplying, life had divided
Happiness had no choice, hope had no place

It is not sad when someone dies
It is sadder because everyone has to

So you see, it is the scent of a woman that I chase
On the road to everything
Off the tracks to nothing

Control is not a beginning, its an end
Its not a shift, but a trend

Its not a force of nature
But a meme of nurture

Memes are not choices, they are imperatives
Or are they?

Mutations are not erroneous outcomes
To be forbidden, and forgotten
But the elegant questions
To be laid and raised again

CANCER PLANET

"So what is it all about?"
As I said, cancer
"Cancer as in cancer?"
No, cancer as in censor
"Censor, who?"
Cancer why

"Are you calling yourself cancer?"
No, I am calling you Capricorn

Our genes might not be our fate
But they sure are the first determinant
Cancer is not a question of 200 growth-regulators
Its an answer to the last dominant

A pathology that holds the key to physiology
The one that bothers all of us - aging
A normality that is understood through the abnormal
In the search for paranormal

We cannot cure cancer
But we can beat it
And that is
Because we are the tumor itself
The most malignant
Self-effacing, self-defeating
Self-extincting

The exiled apes in denial - boneless, laughing bipeds
We walk on two, we talk on three; yet all of us have only one dilemma
Yes, the opposable thumb

What were you thinking?
Exactly

So, cancer and the planet
It is all about breaking rules
Escaping mortality, dodging controls

Just like us

We are the cancer
An unstoppable, exponentially replicating contradiction
Of genetic mimicry and cultural memetics

Stuck in the dance of defense and delusions
Singing a duet of mortality and dreams

I can tell more. But are you listening?

Yasir
Featured links:
To Upgrade is Human - Gregory Stock
Memes and Temes - Susan Blackmore

2 #5 Mortal, Motels, & More-tells: (1) Mortal

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 12:06:00 +0000

"Poisoned bones, lost sphincters and a chocked airway"

You see, policemen are like control hungry freaks
The canines in the K-9s
The cruel duals
The drool tools

Like white cells
In black cloaks
Like bright masks
In a haunting obscurity

Guardians or slayers?
Killers who save the day
Or saviors that cave the night?

Lets have sanity for others
And yell insanity for our self-s
Less sadness for the ordinary
More madness for specials

Its wet, dark and dusty here
But thats what life is

"What would you like to order tonight?"

C H A O S

COMPLEX PROBLEMS, COMPLEXED SOLUTIONS

It was elegant, very elegant
That morning he wept like a baby

And then he drove out
Into the falling mist
And the dawning dust

He crashed into her car
She walked out
He came up

"What's your problem?"
Cancer.

What's yours?

MALIGNANT

Smoke and turns
Hope and twists
Blood and fists

The sweat waging me off
The tears raging me on
The blood whispering me two
The fears gauging me too

In the seeds of life is the secret of death
So its time we opened Pandora's box
And cracked the replicators: the first and the second

Through molecules, metaphors and mystery
On cancer, censors and controls
Of memes, mutations and irony

Inside the microscope that night, there was an error that selected itself

Is the oncologist the malignant gone benign or the benign came malignant?

STARES TO HEAVEN #1

It was an evening
She was lying to the right
I was slouching to the left

She was in sweat, urine and poop
I was in hope, denial and stoop

She had no hunger, only pain
I had no food, only stains

She had no blood to die
I had just the flood to live

All that, and she had only one question for me

May be I didn't have the answer to that
But then the answer had me

THE GREAT ESCAPE

There is a point in evolution

The nadir in extinction
The zenith of survival

Where every answer becomes a question
Each pain becomes a pleasure
Every tear brings a treasure
Each lie is a truth
Every word is a world
Each point is a sentence

Sanctions are actions
Actions, no controls
Angels are demons
Demons are shamans

Awoke is smoke
Smoke is amok
Pure is not sure
Sure is no cure

Each chemical - a constant
Each constant - a physical
Variation is an end
Static is no beginning

One stare can change everything
It transforms, it burns, it breaks
It leads us to passion
Passion is not a rule
No rules is cancer

Or is it?

It is the control beyond the control
The rhythms inside the system ordinaire
The inevitable curse of the genomic shadow

Cancer is life, staring into itself
The stare itself, is just life living out of oneself

The Watchmaker is not blind
He just doesn't have no eyes
He has bad ears, and a really bad right brain

Yet he 'puts all constants in place'
And 'places every block in the watch'

Yes, that would be true
If we hadn't invented him for that job
In the first place!

The truth is that there is no truth, that we know of
Except that genome is out of the forest, and the beast is out of genome

THE JOURNEY TO SELF

Sensibility ends where curiosity begins

Curiosity brings ills, toils and sickness
Because they lie in the same jar as hope
At the bottom of it

So, you think you can save the world
No, you want the world to save you

But this is how it works
Save the self first

If you fight long enough
If you dive deep enough
You will not save yourself
But you might just save someone

May be I have nothing for you
But then the nothing has me

What separates us is this 'terrible silence at bay'
But the irony of it all is what I want
And may be so do you

Why liberates why?
Who saves who?

And that is just another question

Irony is when you walk a lonely road screaming
And everyone stares from the sidewalk in quiet

'Life is not hopeless, we are hopelessly human'

Sometimes 'a cigar is just a cigar'
But, only to the one holding it
And thinking at the same time
To everyone else, its always the same
Some lights and good ol' smokes

'I know that I know nothing but you don't either'

And that is the point.

Yasir
Featured links:
Intersections in Degeneration and Cancer - Eva Vertes
New Lessons in Cancer Research - Jacqueline Lees

Image courtesy (the policeman): Angelo Aldo Filippin @ Flickr

3c #1 Conversations with Dr. Cockroach: (2a) The Angel

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 05:01:00 +0000

"Every choice has a consequence"

Standing on that ledge
Gazing into the depths and darkness below

Staring into the absurd premises founding the lesser musings
Of the tribe - homos and stupids

Diving into the womb of that night

Down

Losing it in the dark of that gray

Beyond

Empty laughs, craving cries

Sagging smiles, sickening lies

A gulping void, a fractured gulf

In the maddening screams, in the widening lights

All he could see was this

"What drink would you like first up in the morning?"

De-cafe, Defects, and De-facts

T H E L I V I N G A B Y S S

HOMO STUPIDENS

So we find ourselves on this planet of apes, exiled from the system of heavens, and in a seemingly perpetual, fatally memetic denial

What does reality mean when you are acting out the fabric of it beyond the event horizon?

But then, aren't we all falling through it?

I say straights, curled, and curved

Any order

Thanks

PORTABLE OPPORTUNISTS

'To you I'm an atheist; to God, I'm the Loyal Opposition'

Roach: Hell, hello, and hell-os
Is there anybody out there?

Is there anyone you dream?

Three holes would do!

Cock: You are an inevitable outcome of just another rotting mutation

Dock: No, my love. I am the joking consequence of only a random change

Cock: Are you serious?

Dock: Yeh, why weren't you?

Dock: You have created a homo-sphere where everything is about a dick or for a dick except the dick itself
Do you know why?

Cock: What?

Dock: Fc*k the dick! Or at least let it have some

Cock: You are exactly as you are expected to be

Dock: Only if the same could be true of you

Dock: All merciful, caring and beautiful, except the creator and his creation

Cock: You are arrogant

Dock: Yes, but lesser than a trinity and least to a unity

Cock: You can never be me

Dock: And you will never want me

Cock: Nobody wants you, see

Dock: You are right. No body needs me, seen

Cock: We are the two ends of a spectrum, all we need is a bridge

Dock: Exactly, a bridge of colors. So that we never see the rainbow again - paradoxical

Cock: Heh, is it all just too much tragedy for you?

Dock: Yep, isn't it?
The question is, is it all just too much fun to you?

Cock: You are not the chosen one, you were never appointed

Dock: You are right

Dock: I am just miserably disappointed, but the only one.

Yasir
Featured links:
The Moral Mind - Jonathan Haidt
Predictable Irrationality - Dan Ariely

3a #2 Surgery Spins (1b)

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 07:15:00 +0000

"Success is a fleeting moment. Failures are forever"

A passing shadow
A wuthering height
A creeping silence
A distant sight

A dance of colors
And the lights of a morning

There was a moment
When time was broken
And the darkness filled everything

S u t u r e s today

He will go out there
Into the wild
And the battlefield

To win the whole damn world
To conquer every continent
To quest all oceans

To break all ice
To put off all the fire
And tears

Only to name all of it - to no one

And at the end of it
He'll start again

From the depths of a nadir
Point blank, pitch black

He'll rise again
From the ashes
Burnt red, cold gray

Once again, the whole world
Every continent, each ocean
All ice, every fire
Each cursed tear

And he'll name all of it to no one - then again

He'll do it a million times in a billion years
Over and over
Yet over again

And then, he'll go away in posterity
For the next zillion

Down the black and blue, into the abyss
Beyond the point, of no return

One breath
One kiss
And an eternity

FAILURE, NOT AN OPTION

Pretentious sucks
Shady shoots
Shoddy schmucks

11 of them
Crazy bucks
Lots of gems

Bad communication skills
Worse television drills
Worst bedside manners

So, this is what they ask of us

We can either accept it through their words
Denying it all in our actions

Or we can just deny it in our words
Accepting them in their actions

Am I the only one who thinks that it's just plain dumb?

Yes, I fell
It was my first

Where Newton saw gravity
I see a fall
Where Einstein saw curvature
I see learning

Learning to fly

Not always, but only at times
Some times
Most of the time

I fell first
I flew second

And it has worked ok
So far

BLEED

Love is a bleeding artery

The stronger you hold it, the faster it slips
The gentler you go in, the harder it gets

It's about the thirst
For more

The red of the other
And a struggle to control

While we watch it, getting sucked in the drains
Coping with our own bleeding death, in time

The surgical intellect is borne out of a misery
That we fear death - the most, arguably

Coming from a century of war
Moving in an age of information

Through an era of quantum
Towards the times of nano

Bringing pain
Craving blood
And fearing it just enough
To fight it

With steel in hands
Armor on torso
And a clock ticking the minds on

We cut their body
To cure our soul

Cracked and cooked outside
Butter and dough inside

Blue exteriors
Gray skins
Red inferiors

Raging emotions
Gauging brains
Caging arms

Dear (s) in mind
Fear (s) on brain

Music in hands
Smells on fingers
And palms on pain

So again, the bleeding spot

We can tie it with polymers
While someone presses it for us

Struggling patience, impending doom

We can burn it with volts
While carbon turns black
And matter burns ugly

Fiery thunders, torrid fumes

Or we can just leave it all, on its own

And if we judge it good enough
The walls will close down long enough
The fluids will freeze up strong enough

And they'll last through that day

That night
To the other day
That next morning round

PAIN

Squares?
Sure, I am a big fan

Questions to known
Answers to unknown

One question, every morning
And another one, each evening
Some answers in between

And the fairly unfairs, every night

May be I will never get what that bleeding vessel is all about
But here is what I know

I want to be in OR with the sun
In lab through the dark
On a machine in the dusk
And a scalpel through the dawn

I want it all
I'll do it myself
And guess what
I'll use all of you to climb

But the thirst will never go away
The blood will never stop
The pain will never drop

And that is why
I am a surgeon, in jeans

Who are you?

Yasir
Featured link: Relief, Redemption and Second Chances of a Surgeon - Sherwin Nuland

3a #2 Surgery Spins (1a)

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 17:39:00 +0000

"What walks on four feet in the morning
Two in the afternoon
And three at night?"

A trip to the Greek museum
And some tales from real mythology

The gods, the heroes & the mortals
All of them & more

Its P r e h i s t o r y

X, Y, Z #1

Oedipus: Fly with me and I'll take you beyond the orbit
Zephyr: Why?

Oedipus: Because then it will just be you and the universe
Zephyr: I like that

Oedipus: Ok, so will you lick me now?

Zephyr: I have estrogen
Oedipus: I have nitric oxide

Zephyr: I want to teach you
Oedipus: Sure, that is my greatest fantasy

Zephyr: Just the greatest?
Oedipus: Well, may be the first one ever, the last or the latest

Zephyr: Same thing
Oedipus: No, similar

Zephyr: I'll ride you day and night
Oedipus: I'll take you days and you can give me nights

*Pause*

Oedipus: Of course, we can always wax and wane our copulate in time and number. I have a social gene. We can buy bangles in groups, once a month may be. It keeps things exciting

Zephyr: But I thought you just wanted a room, a scalpel & some skin
Oedipus: That's because I am an extrovert. I share myself with the world to seek isolation

Zephyr: Oh, I get it. You mean multiple sexual partners in groups!
Oedipus: Yeh, what else would I mean?

Oedipus: I say, multiple. I like them in odd numbers. It's my fetish for the trinity in my genitals and accessories

Zephyr: Wow, respect please
Oedipus: Respect is misunderstood

Zephyr: So, where to now?
Oedipus: Fire, air, water, earth - everything for you

Zephyr: Hey, not so fast

Oedipus: Hah, remember I am a surgeon. I go fast, I finish early

Zephyr: Ok, what is your taste in groups?
Oedipus: I am into smells. You can taste though

Zephyr: Excuse me?
Oedipus: Surgery - we work with a team but one has to do the real thing himself

Zephyr: Oh, ok

Oedipus: It should be either pretty with no chatter, or wired with sensual live poetry. No one from the medical and surgical world.

They are all boring

Zephyr: Really?
Oedipus: Except the fresh interns with shiny skins, nice hair & hunger for success. And may be sometimes the hot shot oldies

Zephyr: Yikes
Oedipus: The likes from MSK, MD Anderson, Columbia, Harvard, Yale, MIT, Princeton & may be Stanford (only the rich cocksuckers from the last one)

Zephyr: Wow
Oedipus: Yeh, I get that a lot

Zephyr: You have a big appetite
Oedipus: No, I have a deep thirst. The appetite is you

Zephyr: So, you are afraid that life's short

Oedipus: Aren't you? Aren't we all? I say, let's stretch it

Zephyr: You are hungry and sleepless
Oedipus: You are sphingid and creepless

Zephyr: I don't believe you
Oedipus: Cindy, I can lift you a thousand times over for that

Zephyr: Stop imagining me in bed
Oedipus: You stop imagining me naked

Zephyr: Urine!
Oedipus: You are in

Zephyr: You don't even know what the real is
Oedipus: I am your kid. See, you don't know what the unreal is. We are even

*Silence* (Zephyr pretending to be busy in work)

Oedipus: This is what I know - thing about reality shows, they are neither real nor shows

Zephyr: Murree sucks!
Oedipus: Exactly

Zephyr: So what now?
Oedipus: Sex, shrinking waist

Zephyr: And?
Oedipus: sEx, inflating ego

Zephyr: Come on, I am a surgeon
Oedipus: seX, X-Y-Z

DUAL #1

Odysseus: You are too dumb for me to bear
Oedipus: No, I am too crazy for you to hear

Odysseus: I am the champion of Trojans, the king of Ithaca, the warrior of Iliad, and the hero of Odyssey. What are you?

Oedipus: I am the child of swollen sea, the king in exile, the Sphinx's riddle, the holy wanderer, and the blind truth seeker

Odysseus: I am Homer's mortal, who can never be forgotten
Oedipus: I am Caesar's hero, who will never be understood

Odysseus: You are a neurotic perversion
Oedipus: You are a psychotic hatred

Odysseus: You are God's failed attempt
Oedipus: You are man's hailed contempt

Odysseus: I have everything to cherish
Oedipus: I have nothing to lose

Odysseus: I am the cream of them all
Oedipus: I have the dreams of that all

Odysseus: I have had every wish granted
Oedipus: I have had each curse realized

Odysseus: My name is the symbol of my pride
Oedipus: Or just an excuse of hypocrisy - a cynical exercise to your lineage

Odysseus: You seek chaos
Oedipus: No, I breach order

Odysseus: What a waste!
Oedipus: Wasted

Odysseus: I am tired of you
Oedipus: You are scared of me

Odysseus: False. You can't win anything from me
Oedipus: True. I can't lose anything to you

BEYOND THE CURTAINS

That night, they started their journeys along the two roads - diverging in a wood

With them, they had no answers
Only questions

Who changed whom?
Who killed whom?
Who evolved whom?

The sick, or the patient
The mocker, or the docker
The rocker, or the clocker
The twisted, or the curved
The healer, or the cured

In the deepening darkness, they feared that it is a deja vu
But it was a vuja de

At one point in some falling moments of those rising hours
There was a first drop of rain

The answer they had found, was staring at them long before
The quest had even started

"Lame, weird & lonely - what kind of a hero is he?
... simply, out of sorts
Just like you!

For the one who fights the raging monsters in sleepless nights
The one should see to it
That when you gaze deep down
Long in the abyss

The abyss stares back into you, as well

So there is only one question: was it them or the abyss ?"

And then they stared back, but it was an end

Yasir
Featured link: A Curious Eye Looks Back only, at a Curious Viewer - Golan Levin

4 #1 BS: The Art of Sir Dirty Fraud

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 09:18:00 +0000

"All high is low down up"

And that is not a metaphor
But hey, you are

Beside a deepening
Sadness
Along the rising
Madness

Across the crumpled
Pages
Beyond the crippling
Words
Inside the stifling
Thoughts

Cures in crazy looks
Shores of static hooks

An elated distance
The deluded clocks

A science in the pattern of arranged
An art in behaviors of deranged

Nature is selective. Nurture is defective

Welcome to B u l l s h i t !

DENIAL

Tonight, let me break down
The bald, bold and absurd
A self-effacing expression
Of the human condition

The paradox at the heart of our civilization
And the ones before us

More lives have been wasted to blood and mud
In the name of religion and women
In known human history than any other single identifiable cause

Viz a viz, control and sex
More like, control for sex
Most like, sex and sex

Countless ordinary men & the counted of greatest warriors ever
Religion and women

The only central dogma
A just hidden agenda
Isn't it?

But you know what
Believe what you like
Fc*k you all

May be I have always been the borderline
The one off the charts a little
On the darts the most

But you see,
Unlike more than 80% of 7 billion of us
I accept it more often than not

And guess what,
I am endowed with divine sublimation

What do you have?
Fish?

YOU IT & DO IT #1

You it: Public displays of human love laced with an overt expression of friendly transference avoids inevitable, deadly encounters between soul mates

Do it: The question, is it good or bad for either of us?

You it: I say, a foursome is only the next stage in evolution

Do it: Perhaps, but I won't be a part of it

You it: What can I say?
Nature is selective
And I am just an architect. Or am I?

So, to the married couples
There might be no happiness left for you but there is always hope, to the right of you

Look hard, stare better

OF SEX, SEXUALS & SEXISTS

Here is the thing: women are different and dumb
Well, if you are a woman, then you'll find men same and deaf

It's all about the frame of reference

Perfectly alright with me though. I have always felt like a man
Mostly

Ok, let me confuse you more

They are different, we are different
They are dumb, we are deaf
If we treat them the same, we turn into them

And that makes us both deaf and dumb!

What about me?
I go both ways
Do you have a problem with that?
I can solve it
I mean I'll try my best

Got it?
Good for you

So, what to do about it?

I say, have more sex, keep the sexual outside
And bring the sexist inside

Best wishes

YUCK, FUSS & ZEUS #2

"Hi,
You cannot win my respect by just being an asshole"

Oh, but you sure can. By just being a hole
Actually, two
Or three

Mom: You are predictably miserable
Yom: And you are miserably predictable

Fuss: Ok, I want to suck you
Yuck: Babes, sure. But fc*k me too

Zeus: I love your slang
Yuck: I love your glands!

Fuss: Hey, you are on my calendar
Yuck: Yes, but not in your bed

Fuss: Can I get my Eidi?
Yuck: Only in a shed

Zeus: You know, on Eid day, I went to the mall
Yuck: I just jerked off in the morning and gulped some sleep pills

Fuss: Well I did some real shopping, check it out
Yuck: I'd rather prefer you naked

Fuss: Suck, you are so full of yourself
Yuck: No, I am just full of blood

Fuss: Why?
Zeus: Where!

Fuss: Where?
Yuck: In the groin

Fuss: Come to bed, then
Zeus: Sorry, he has a brain too

Fuss: Oh, only two organs

Yuck: Yeh. But blood for only one, at a time

Fuss: Aww, don't be sad
Yuck: I am not. I am mad

Fuss: I am there for you. I got veggies and sweets!
Yuck: I got dirty and creeps

Fuss: Will you do me forever, if I do you once?
Yuck: Let's see. Blow me first!

Zeus: I'll do that, too

Yuck: I'll love you, two

PS: Bullshit works
Thanks for jacking off

Yasir
Featured link: Reading Each Other's Mind - Rebecca Saxe

2 #4 Of Rhythms & Resolutions

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 13:30:00 +0000

"One mysterious moment before space and time, the cat in a box of uncertainty took the quantum leap and ripped through the general relativity. It moved in a space of infinite black energy filling it with dark matter treading the light speeds"

Silence was killed, time stood still
And space distilled

In the moment of creation
A cosmos was born
And a universe was made

May be unfairly fair
To some of them
But fairly unfair
To all of us

Every beginning has an end
Except when the beginning is an end in itself

Welcome to the cosmic bizarre
We offer infinitely ever-expanding nothingness here

Inviting riddles, lusting depths
Smothering condensation, smouldering saturation

All relative to the speed of a constant

God just loves the dice
Doesn't he?

From C a r b - O n 2 S i l l y - C o n:
the Ditch-hacker's Guide to Venus, en route Mars

Knight begins

The blue illusion fades
The dark collision spades

Shadows farmed
Shades formed
Lights transformed

Beyond the darkness
Inside a silence
Through the trance

Eternity is breached
Truth is reached

Mr. & Miss Stephen Hawking
Welcome to the brief history of spatial mechanics

I meant special
Quiet special

Say hi, be nice

It began with a bang
It goes with the bling

Y = mc ^ squeezed & squared

c is the only constant
In this equation
And the just hope of real
In that equilibrium

Yet not

The sight for right
The fight for might

The height for dings
The dongs for flight

Everything bound by a system
Imprisoned in the dismal frame of subjugation
Everyone stuck in the drab
Of a realm called entropy nation

Opens are airy
Closed are dreary

And then the intriguing isolated
Insanely idiotic, ideal approximations
Of what is merely a quest for unreal

In the existential streams
Of consciousness
The bordered numbers
Of crunchiness
And the murdered dreams
Of drunkenness

In the dynamics of heat
Open systems give origins
Closed ones take endings

And the isolated others, soak up the chaos in equalities

Keeping the universe in a balance of hope and priority
Yet giving away to an array of darkness and singularity

Eternity?
Trinity??
Unity???

Bullshit!

But again,

The connected singularities
In the erected duel-ities
And the ejected similarities

The sheered sadness
The shared madness

The abysmal black holes
Or infinitesimal lack balls
And the dismal light bulbs

A grand bowl with matter and energy
A great brawl of metal and synergy

A diagonal dope of intersecting heresies
An ethereal scope of satanic varices

A finite loop of triangular verses
An eternal soup of parallel uni-versus

Every star tells a tale

It starts in a cloud
Of gas and dust

Uncharted and trackless
Diffused and confused

A scattered metallurgy
In a terrible atrophy
Through a horrible dystrophy

And a gaping silence

Within the cosmos
Age is the price of growing richer

Churning denser
Getting better

Yet worse

So, a dark in the bright?
Or some light in the dark

Throw a sin
Show a sign
Die ugly!

Seek patrol, some of that
Lose control, all of this

Every stare, in a story
Each score, in a scary

They greed a nova
The desire a supernova

They hate a Casanova

A comical paradox or a tragic irony?

Oceans can rise
Fires could deep

Carbon will burn
Copper would melt

Oil shall blow
Gold should sleep

To everything
In nothing

A white dwarf or a black hole?

Just a blue dot
And the pale star

A separated crudity
In a defamed dunge-on

Yasir
Featured link: Our Place in Cosmos - David Deutsch

# 4 # Charlie Kaplan: Question, Answers & Exclamations

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 11:10:00 +0000

"Hi, I am Quad
The dick machine
I churn out nuts
I turn in butts"

So, you guys want to judge me
Sure, it works

Well, I like my act
As the mother of United Bitch Snipers of Pack-toon-istan

I am hot
Acidic on crotch

What about the rust?

You look cool
Arctic in drool

Will you like some tea?

Hey, dumbs of the world
I know my ways to the cookie-cutter application

Yeh, I do it on my terms
Online!

U p y o u r s, a l l

YUCK, FUSS & ZEUS #1

Mom: What would you like for lunch?
Yom: 70 bitches in heaven

Fuss: TroY, marry me. Please
Yuck: How about you buy me a Mac, and I'll fc*k you for free!

Fuss: Jerk, can you clean up kindly before you leave?
Yuck: Slurp, how about I set you dirty first and clean down second before I come?

Fuss: You can't answer a question with a question
Yuck: I can

Fuss: But its not fair
Yuck: I like the butt, fair. Or unfair. But a butt

Fuss: Ok, why do you like chicks in groups and chickens on a one-to-one basis?
Yuck: Because the soup is delicious that way

Fuss: Whatever
Yuck: See, we are all just old school or simply messed up. Change is good, you know. It helps bring back old memories

Fuss: Aww, so why do you fall for girls in troops and ladies in duels?
Yuck: No, girls in droops and ladies in duals.

Fuss: I like the video you made
Yuck: I like the video I'll make

Zeus: Mess!
Yuck: Yes

Fuss: Yuck!
Zeus: Duck!

Yes: Fc*k!!

THE P L E A S U R E PRINCIPLE
by Sickmen Flawed

On face: No worries, it's just another sexual comedy

# Mortal, Motels, & More-tells (2, 3, 4, 5)

# Physiology: Something about the physics of living things
# Pathology: I like it erect with many thongs

# Biochemistry: Ok, I need a trip to the lab tonight
# Molecular/Cell: Yes, we all do
# Pharmacology: I like to hit it in the dark

# Microbiology: What can I say?
# Immunology: It's all in the hands

# Anatomy: And corpus caverns
# Neuroanatomy: Brains & nuts for supper, please

# Behavioral Science (1, 2, 3): The art of Sir Dirty Fraud

Qbank: The spirit of discovery
NBME simulation: The quirk of invention

Exam day: The horizons will expand in daylight

Tag: $ 99/99/99
Of course, it's all about approval

I am coming
How about a wedge sandwich?

The thing about success
It's not spontaneous combustion

You always need an ignition
To the fire beyond

Let me make it simpler

More sex, less butt-er
Thanks

Yasir
Featured link: A Gentler View of Success - Alain de Botton

2 #8 Conversations with Dr. Cockroach: (1) The Al-might-its

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 07:25:00 +0000

"Hi, kneel or no kneel?"
Sorry, that is not even a question

Doctor Cockroach now
I am here to talk
I can walk too
I have many legs

I was almighty
I am Al-might-g

Size the left tits
All the right bits

I am red in tooth & claw
The eye is blue in truth & law

Welcome to Natural Selection

Of poaching the Roach
Through the most fatal meme ever
With the great storyteller never
And the blind Watchmaker himself

Survival of the fittest?
No
Fittest of the Survivors

Shadows feed me
Summers creed me
Winters seed me
Radiation treads me

And then
Through the cockroach eyes
Arabian de-lights
Black, sugary & dipped in all divine

"Lots & goats, tonight I take you to the end of a species
And a rise of the specials"

B e g i n

ON THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES
by Charlie's Angels

# On face, please
# Introjection, next

# 1 Variation under Domestication: More women, thanks
# 2 Variation under Nature: Girls will do as well

# 3 Struggle for Existence: Let there be lights
# 4 Natural Selection: It works

# 5 Law of Variation: Yes, I stare and stare again
# 6 Difficulties on Theory: But not for too long, at one place

# 7 Instinct: Scalpel & theater lights

# 8 Hybridism: Oh, you got a long one
# 9 On the Imperfection of the Geological Record: Good
# 10 On the Geological Succession of Organic Beings: Ok, I'll suck that too

# 11 Geographical Distribution: Universal disposition but stuck at earth
# 12 Geographical Distribution (continued): Well, we know our way out - the ISS

# 13 Mutual Affinities of Organic Beings: Morphology: Embryology: Rudimentary Organs

# 14 Recapitulation & Conclusion: The above was self explanatory

Glossary: Fc*k me, sure
Home: United States

EXILE

Cock: Do you want to leave?
Dock: Yes-sir, I need to live

Cock: What?
Dock: No-sir, why?

Cock: They are hue-men. I mean, humans
They are the best of my creation
They have will
They can choose!

Dock: Exactly. And they are all sinners
And they are only on the third blue rock from an ordinary ball of half burnt gas, in an unknown corner of just another universe

Cock: Though they are the favorite most

Dock: I am glad
Cock: What?
Dock: No-sir, why?

Cock: Why would you do this?
Hey you, don't think that it is because you love me enough!

Dock: This is exactly my point. Why!

Dock, again: Yes, I was a favorite too
I have always needed to be one
Yet, I have always wanted to see one

Cock: Though you will be the sinned one

Dock: My love, this knight is a morning

Dock, over again: I was the chosen, once
And you create the two, now
So I will sin you, tomorrow

Only to be the best, forever

Let there be light
And theirs was a night

Yasir

Featured link: Psychology of Evil - Philip Zimbardo

3a #1 Surge-ons: Warriors, Architects & Rangers

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 18:43:00 +0000

"You can either mourn a death or death each mourn
We shall either life a moan or moan every life
They will either own some finite or finite all own

I chose the first, and I did the later
Yet if you look close
I did the first, and chose the later

You know why
Because I will never forget the turn of a decade
As it might be the twist of a century
At least that's what I want it to be"

... and then the l y m p h, ate her away

Knives? Lost of knives
Surgery 2.0
On eyes, off hands, in the mind

A near fatal error, the far natal mistake
Clutching on a drowning straw
Drowning in a bloody bra

More action for you, less comedy for me
"Would you like to cut the cake?"
Yes

A primitive warrior in an information age
A modern architect from a period of neoliths
A constant dreamer to the era in quantum

With the eyes of a tiger
Through the hands of a spider
In the minds of a rider***

Pain is my cure, blood is my curse
Life is my wish, death is my destiny

Today, the surgery gene
I move fast
I clean up nice

Yeah, that's just because I like to

With blood in my eyes
And pain in my hands

I Leonidas
The Superman
Re-invented Nietzsche

I travel time
I bend space
I rip the matter
I score the energy

I break barriers
I weave dreams
I build demons

I play knives
I fight molecules

I dive an abyss
I creep the crypt

I cut all cancers
You just build hearts
Do you?

I fix many guts
You only peep brains
Don't I?

On the stage of life
I am a stud of acts
In an orchestra of mortality

Control is my hope
Freak is my desire
Eternal is my delusion
Finite is my reality

I am a surgeon
I fight, I play & I think
But I always move on

I died once

I die again
But I will never stop

Until I do

da Vinci® FDA* approved: Each discovery leads to an invention, unless the invention is a discovery itself

Blood, nerves & hair
Red masks, gray skin & black eyes
Rocks, rhythms & mysteries
Do 'em, string 'em & crack 'em

Here is how it works

Let's dance tonight
And trance tomorrow

Yasir
The Cooked Monster
Featured link: Surgery's Past, Present & Future - Catherine Mohr

* Foreign Diplomatic Academy
*** In theater (and musical art), rider is a set of requests or demands that a performer will set as criteria for performance

# 3a # A Face of Treason: The Dawn in Trinity

noreply@blogger.com (Afflatus Archives) — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 17:05:00 +0000

"We make our journeys, but our destinations choose us
What lies ahead is red, blue, gray
And finite
Yes, I am mortal
But so are you
Three words, one connection"

A u t o n o m y, M a s t e r y,

P u r p o s e

All you hazrat rock-a-fella, mother-fc*kers out there
Do you still think you are ahead of me?
You never were

I can seed my drive today
Sorry, no bribes tomorrow
The sadness fueling my passions
And the madness burning my ribs

Do you still believe you can out think me?
You never will

Until I am gone

The Theater: Lights, Camera, Action
Many Organs, One Abyss

# Surge-ons: Warriors, Architects & Rangers
# Surgery Spins (1a, 1b, 2)
# Surgery Squares (1, 2, 3)

# Lungs: Off Air, On Smoke
# Hearts: Meat, Molecules & Metaphors
# Guts: Chart, Cats & Chameleons
# Brains: Phineas, Amygdala & Pineal Body

# Doc Robocop
# N. O. T. E. S: Leave No Scar!

# Amphibious: Redefining Resurrection
# Rebellion: A Wilderness In The Genome
# Cellular: Magic Tales In Gory Mechanics

I might not fake smiles everywhere
I will not joy the sunshine everyday

But
With my scalp-el, I'll cure the cancer
In my money, I'll rob the depression
Through my pen, I'll sob the possession

And then, I might just re-write history and save the world!

You are right, it was a riddle
But the one that solves you

Yasir
Featured link: Dan Pink on Motivation