Singularity Poem

by phil on Monday Mar 31, 2003 12:02 AM
Phil's Articles, Singularity, poetry

Did an open mic for the first time today at Galokas in San Diego. I dressed in all black, had my hair combed ultra normal, and did a few twisted things that I doubt anybody noticed. Nontheless, it was really fun. I was hella nervous before, and going up there to stand and deliver was not what I expected. I expected to just be nervous and wanting to dish out what I said, but instead, it turned into something powerful. After I said, "Man is just" I paused in silence for a good five seconds--eternity in spoken word--and then, bam, bam, bam, like the daggers of thought I intended to lob, I delivered. The applause I got was comparable to the others, which was comforting.

I had criticisms of all the other spoken word artists, but in quickly sharing it with others, I find that it's just not popular to share such a high bar for art. I always believed in Nietzsche's conception of the Superman, and I wished others would try to make their art rise beyond the mundane. See, already, you are hearing the negative vibes: pessimism, cynicism, arrogance, and just plain bitterness. Why? Why? This is why I don't like revealing my personal thoughts or relating my personal experiences at times. The Truth, or at least my Truth hurts. So when people ask me questions, I try to only tell the part of the Truth that doesn't ruin the conversation into a wrestling match. The match usually ends with me losing and the winner being somebody who just stands over me and says, "See, you can't say X". Don't get me wrong, I enjoy everything. The ceremony of spoken word that processed before me was dope. It was funny, entertaining, and clever. But I must be honest when I emphasize how much I desire improvement and higher forms of art.

Hmm, something is wrong here.... I feel it's a waste, self-indulgent, and plain boring, to talk about my "standards" of art though. I think the compromise I can make with my socially "arrogant" attitudes and my desire to be a generally nice guy, is to be silent and prove my ideas through example. What you say says nothing. Action is what counts. And yet, with friends, especially close friends, I think speaking your mind is still a strong imperative.

I spent the time there with Chaz and Elaine. Elaine had heard of the place and helped me get the link on the left ("Urban San Diego"). It was really nice having friends with me. You can have all the theories in the world, but when you sit down after speaking and a friend gives you a handshake, it feels good. Plus, NOW, there's a whole world of San Diego culture to conquer! (dah!... maybe I should just go screw it, this is my blog, my space, let the arrogance flow like spit)

Here is the poem that I spoke:

"The Gay Funeral"
By Philip Dhingra

Man is just
An informaton processor
When we follow our passions to make love
and subsequently have sex
We are merely exchanging and merging blueprints
To create more information-processors
Through the course of their life
Will struggle to exist
And repeat
what you started.
That is not what life is ALL about?
At least for non uber-hormonal college students.
There is
There is
and there is

As I take quiet walks
--a rare task these days--
I am always surprised by how
unaware we are of the superstructures
mushrooming around us

From drugs
such as TV
and real mushroom clouds over Bahgdad

The question then emerges
Rules this earth?

Nietzsche once said,
"God is dead.
And we have killed him"

I revise and say,
"Man is dead.
And we have killed him"

Man first died when he chose to speak
When he chose to love
When he chose to submit his activities
To a greater good.

We are gathered here today
For another kind of greater good.

A pow-pow of the most

And we are also here to mourn
the impending death of man

But this will be a death
with little bloodshed

And as the movie The Hours
showed us
Death can be a gift
unto the living

What will live on?
Who will live on?

The struggle for existence continues.

I'm in no hurry though
I want to enjoy the Singularity
one precious bit
at a time.


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