Nietzsche

These words are not my own
--

i must admit



They belong to an archaic land


of scarcely discernible vagueness



Fantastically beautiful!


Faithfully preserved in obscurity



Of feeble-minds, absurb and

Positively crazy!



‘Transform every moment into poetry


with pain, tears, anxiety, astonishment, delight!’



Dream of higher certainties!


Elegant deductions need go no further.



What nomenclature of the unconscious --


Partly achieved, partly abandoned



What wish to sleep


Can find the Jewel



-of flamed treasure


Beneath the hearth


-of the cults of Antiquity?


Those citadels of femininity



What vulgar or poetic joke


Enfeebles me?



Inwardly restrained knowing without effect?


Am I but the epitome of compendia?



Or -- immoderation of critical effusion?


Nay! -- I am the Socratic malady (approaching insanity)



How many minds -- systematically perverted

Through toil in the factories of 'common utility'



in the reflexivity of mental distanciation


Inborn grayheadedness, if you will.



Would not Narcolepsy


Better suit such 'teachers of purpose'?