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Tamerlan Kuzgov

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“Defining various disciplines is a form of creative restraint, binding down natural, outbranching development. The concept of philosophy is broad. A great many ideas can be found within the love of seeking. It's intended meaning should be synonymous with curiosity. Before the rise of specific fields such as medicine, [in the mediterannean] medicine was a branch stretching around theology and philosophy. The 'love of uncovering' gives birth to specialization and that same force continues in every branch with the same or similar intensity as in the roots and the stem. A tree should not be restrained, limited, heavily defined. Let it grow freely, unrestrained, limitless, without weight. Curiosity, is not a field - it may lead to new fields, or improvements therein. It's not much different from saying a woman should be [exactly] in this way, a man in that way, or a child in this way. It leads to creative authoritarianism, and is a threat to the free growth, cooperation and expansion of various fields. It's not always necessary to set things in stone.”

PhilosophyGrowthTreeRootsCuriosityBranchesOxygenGardenerSaplingNourishments
Author:Monaristw
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“SEPTEMBER 1, 1939 I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-second Street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest decade: Waves of anger and fear Circulate over the bright And darkened lands of the earth, Obsessing our private lives; The unmentionable odour of death Offends the September night. Accurate scholarship can Unearth the whole offence From Luther until now That has driven a culture mad, Find what occurred at Linz, What huge imago made A psychopathic god: I and the public know What all schoolchildren learn, Those to whom evil is done Do evil in return. Exiled Thucydides knew All that a speech can say About Democracy, And what dictators do, The elderly rubbish they talk To an apathetic grave; Analysed all in his book, The enlightenment driven away, The habit-forming pain, Mismanagement and grief: We must suffer them all again. Into this neutral air Where blind skyscrapers use Their full height to proclaim The strength of Collective Man, Each language pours its vain Competitive excuse: But who can live for long In an euphoric dream; Out of the mirror they stare, Imperialism's face And the international wrong. Faces along the bar Cling to their average day: The lights must never go out, The music must always play, All the conventions conspire To make this fort assume The furniture of home; Lest we should see where we are, Lost in a haunted wood, Children afraid of the night Who have never been happy or good. The windiest militant trash Important Persons shout Is not so crude as our wish: What mad Nijinsky wrote About Diaghilev Is true of the normal heart; For the error bred in the bone Of each woman and each man Craves what it cannot have, Not universal love But to be loved alone. From the conservative dark Into the ethical life The dense commuters come, Repeating their morning vow; 'I will be true to the wife, I'll concentrate more on my work,' And helpless governors wake To resume their compulsory game: Who can release them now, Who can reach the dead, Who can speak for the dumb? All I have is a voice To undo the folded lie, The romantic lie in the brain Of the sensual man-in-the-street And the lie of Authority Whose buildings grope the sky: There is no such thing as the State And no one exists alone; Hunger allows no choice To the citizen or the police; We must love one another or die. Defenseless under the night Our world in stupor lies; Yet, dotted everywhere, Ironic points of light Flash out wherever the Just Exchange their messages: May I, composed like them Of Eros and of dust, Beleaguered by the same Negation and despair, Show an affirming flame.”

WarPoetryEvilTyrannyWorld War IiDictatorship9 11
Book:Another Time
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