and if poets are beggars and laggard ...... and

Alaska and others read Plato and Socrates the dealer. Dealer of word and memory. Aristotle lingering in the hover ground ____________________"then, I said, my dear friend, let none of the poets tell us that"

When I hear the word god, reactions to up down shiver around: one I think of VIco Giambattista

"...The gods, taking the disguise of strangers from other lands, walk up and down cities in all sorts of forms ; [And Satan answered , and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it] [Satan is the great deterritorialized force of the Judeo-Christian Logos)

.and let no one slander Proteus and Thetis, neither let any one, either in tragedy or in any other kind of poetry, introduce


Here disguised in the likeness of a priestess asking an alms
(Mona the beggar scrounging malts meals and spare change)

Those, I said, which are narrated by Homer and Hesiod, and the rest of the poets, who have ever been the great story-tellers of mankind.

But which stories do you mean, he said; and what fault do you find with them?





( and who is reading who
Platon dictated to by Socrates?


A fault which is most serious, I said; the fault of telling a lie, and, what is more, a bad lie.

Socrates Plato thinks us poets are liars
yet he just said Hesiod and Homer and the rest of the poets...."are the "great" story tellers
of mankind
Hmmm of interesting to moi
Professor Socrates
was that as a child I was told
again and again
Stop making up stories....


_______________________________

____________ if there are no gods? no poem?
g__ds that dont care. Care not. No placating the non-
exiting Ones ~ they are vanishe'd ~

'But what if there are no gods? or, suppose them to have no care of human things --why in either case should we mind about concealment?

And even if there are gods, and they do care about us, yet we know of them only from tradition and the genealogies of the poets;

( What poet lies dear Platon? Does a poet lye to eat
he shall for his bacon her daily bread)
(Alie alie alay alay a lyre)




and these are the very persons who say that they may be influenced and turned by 'sacrifices and soothing entreaties and by offerings.'


Sacrifice and lie. Torment of the doomed. The poet carries
a lyre. Home is alyre. Orpheus tell tale. Tell me no Tale.
A curtail sonnet. A curtaled sonnet _ a bonnet . We are
far from the old greek(s). We are atheist ? of joy?

Let us be consistent then, and believe both or neither.


If the poets speak truly, why then we had better be unjust, and offer of the fruits of injustice; for if we are just, although we may escape the vengeance of heaven, we shall lose the gains of injustice; but, if we are unjust, we shall keep the gains, and by our sinning and praying, and praying and sinning, the gods will be propitiated, and we shall not be punished. 'But there is a world below in which either we or our posterity will suffer for our unjust deeds.'

O kinema of justice and veil of dark eyes the goddess hangs out
a sack of pain in her ppapapapapotoatoebag. Meal for the god
and scarred by gods whose hunger.


Vengeance is Mine says the Lord! Revenge is the last
bridge the overman must cross says Zarathustra ~ .

Leaping man over his ugly self.

Interludic

Mona cant help recalling her daisy delour
parlay of this obverse machine ~


"Can Mona find the reply in her flipping Plato pages? Does it take paging the old philoking himself door to door with Socrates knocking to acquire the Delphic retort? Come away come away you harbingers of sight and harbour . this wardour avenue atmosphere is no guardian of the truth.

Where is Socrate's wife? Doe she stew the dialectic behind his back? it's that postcard thing cooking up at the pharmacy's the problem. Well, blow me over, you ancient castle. I aint got no card to cook your goose. We're hell bent on makingthe Same no matter what we try of goose and gander. But a willow's not a window no matter how you shake it."

Yes, my friend, will be the reflection, but there are mysteries and atoning deities, and these have great power.

That is what mighty cities declare; and the children of the gods, who were their poets and prophets, bear a like testimony.

______________________________

O yer mister republic
public
public
Socrat
Socrat
Socrates
Socratease
Socratease
Socratezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzee

And Platon is a fine writer of odes and tale. And his concepts are riddled wth love thought
and he was
the Man
with
scroll
scrib
in hand
his native
suit
a

lyre pushing all
and His Aristole was
very
backseated
to his
loves
and
raving juice
And he
said

If it were not for the beauty of the youth
of Athens
I would not
have
written
my philosophy ~

So

Nietzsche tells us ~

And you are plato a~ristotle nietzsche sometimes homer the run and the antediluvian Vesuvian god ~ belching his volcanic smoke ashes ~