Animal's House of Muse

Vibes to Feed the Hasty Soul with the States of All that Matters

Of Ways, of Modes, of Transcendental Logic

Mere words associated with abstract things,
Far removed from anything of substance
Struck the most tender spot in my heart
And tears welled to the precipice
Of undignified sobs, right in the middle
Of a crowded coffee shop
You must have touched my most mundane studies
Animating logic theories past
As what I once thought lost forever
Sprang to life, as full as your physical presence
Once was
To what extent are you here?
Does it even make sense to ask such a question?
What once was real
Will always be so
And shall forever shape, even if from tacit recesses
The form of phenomenal space
These tears, hardly secret are sent not from sadness
No, no
Beauty, here, holds firm sway
For certain, indubitably
Pure essences are felt in this world

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Parlor Patty Picked a Piper Peddling Principled Pockets

When evidence takes precedence
The imagination soars
Above the clouds
Beyond the moon
Towards phantasy galore
The eyes behold
Around first space
The truth of what’s in store

But what unfolds
Is fallen gold
Spun fast as
Laws let go

Concluding last
What’s known as fact
Mere memory implores
As tacit rings
Upon the strings
Our image sits adorn’d
A misted gift
An Ancient myth
A sin we could afford
Pure essence shines
Tall tales sublime
A message oft’ ignored

And thus we read what’s written
And thus we know what’s true
And thus we think our thoughts run green
Though frankly wisdom’s bored

Oh Lord . . . smh

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Walking on Water, Sinking in Air

Where must I find my grounds if what I believe to be the floor
Is constantly moving?
This way, that way, every which way except here
That’s where you’ll find my feet –
Dancing and tapping and cramping
To the rhythms of uncertainty
Upon no real demarcated plane
Mediated between disorder and sky
I must recollect my moves in retrospect
Piddly perception my only guide.
Why, Lord, why?

The unstructured womb of existence reveals no steps
If you continue to ask
Just melt into space through time . . .

My only reply
Jeeze Louise
With all of these stops and rests
I might as well be wicked



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My mind is scattered
Patterned about my room
As dust caking each surface
Swipe your finger
On the bookshelf
Possess my subject
Wash your hands of me
My labor ceases to be
Recollect my person
In the drain pipe
Dreaming of thoughts well composed
The remains of my anonymity
Mere scuzzy film
Easing waste along its merry way
How I see myself
Furnishing the movements
Of a silent world
Devoid of ends and direction

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The Soft Breath of Life

What speaks to me in the gentle breeze
As I sit in my truck reflecting upon financial ruin
By a shade-giving dumpster in the bank parking lot?
“With the windows down,”
It whispers,
“You won’t be as sweaty
And the boiled eggs you packed as a lunch
Won’t spoil so fast,”
It has my full attention
“Despite the smell
With that little inch of comfort
You’ll stretch your patience into a mile
As far as the breeze will take you
As far as you need to go
Spirit Child”
My attention is full of shit.

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Through the Now Invisaligned Crooked Teeth of Fables

One night, while traversing both the heights of pure rage and deafening depths of despair, shamelessly flailing for want of cosmic attention, a voice most consoling issues in a tone, bright and clear, “Hush, child. Hush, child. Your answers lie near. See, over yonder – where once stood your idle sit but mere crumbles of visages, past. Your father lied . . . of fate, unjustified. And so you killed him. Don’t you remember? No longer will his worldview overshadow the truth which you have seen for yourself in full. Certainly, you now know of your true identity. And it is now through your perfected word that the lungs of nature and history shall find principled breath. Are you ready?” Yes! You cry. Yes! “ . . . But are you sure?”

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If You Can Wrap Your Mind Around Itself

Then you can do anything.





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It’s Ho-fficial

Y’all! The time has come! The Lawn Chair Philosophy Foundation has finally been recognized by the great state of Pennsylvania as a non-profit, and we’re ready to go!

Any little bit helps, so if you would like to donate to our cause, click: Fundraising

And here’s our mission: “Philosophical Need” is a difficult term to define, for its potential is so ubiquitous – everyone has their own personal philosophy, right? Well, we here at the LCP Foundation are huge fans of rigors more pressing than philosophies, unthematic. And we believe that hard, philosophically guided self-reflection is quite necessary in developing a critical eye and a robust imagination. It is through an interplay between these two faculties of the mind that autonomous individuals emerge, who from within may reach outward into this wild, wild world; and who may thusly create a home which reflects and affirms their unique rational willing. However, for those pushed to the fringes of society, and beyond, clear and approachable access to academic resources which may enhance and expedite intellectual becoming is terribly wanting. In response to this problem, we have compiled a hardy Library Starter Pack to donate to homeless shelters, half-way houses, impoverished schools, mental hospitals, etc., in the hopes of creating concrete channels to philosophical methods and narratives which vigorously address the mind and its capacities; in the hopes of providing spaces where those willing to put in the work may carve for themselves a home rich in substance, all their own. Currently in development are supplementary Expansion Packs which shall follow a myriad of philosophical discussions found within and throughout the realm of possible thought. And to accompany the Library Starter and Expansion Packs, we shall soon offer MOOCs and teaching resources available for, virtually, the whole world.

Thank you all for the continued support on this blog and stay tuned for big things to come from this charity!

  • aminal

Of Function and Science

How do you get your mind over the conditions which ground it,
Found it,
Put it to rest;
Fixed and immutable?
You lie to your heart about what’s standing right in front of you
And hope to god no one sees
Your eyes, full of doubt
Heaven forbid you look in a mirror . . .

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Who Knew Plato was a Feminist?!

Through the mouths of idiots, Plato proselytizes about his release from an unenlightened cave of personal prejudice and bad opinion. He chooses the weakest male of any given philosophy 101 litter, creeping into their psyche as if Satan whispering into the mind’s ear: “You shall truly know as others will never understand. Even those around you, sitting in the very same philosophy class, cannot truly hear as you, favored one, the holy word of the master. Look at them, taking notes like the plebs they are! The fate of humanity rests solely on your shoulders. Eat of the fruits of my labor. Release these fools from their prisons. Show them what it means to really think, else they shall never find truth! You shall be the way and the light, itself – just as your mother prophesied!” And without deviation, every single time, he seizes control of his victim; who dashes to the first woman they can find in order to begin their life long mission as the epitome of sage-hood. And here is where Plato’s genius truly emerges: the idiot becomes for her an embodied example of life within the cave, and she thinks to herself and for herself, “Let me not be like this idiot and assume without even thinking to stop and ask that everyone around me is trapped in an unenlightened cave of their own, or society’s making.” She then begins her life long, inward journey of philosophical self-reflection in the proper manner of examining her assumptions so as to not look-a-fool; so as to condition wisdom in a world known by others (duh).

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