Does Happiness Have a Name?



My boredom has many feelings, the constant nagging of annoyance. Relief is just around the corner. Oh, no trickery is it’s toy.  Dull is this existence. Space and time crawling to catch up.  Is quitting an option?  Surrendering to the very desire of motion.



My joy is patiently still. The presence faintly sits. The elation at times is too late.  Long gone into scattered pieces.  Draining is this conjuring. Calling on the past for future’s content.  Is the will of joy to wait?  For moments of expectance are vain.



My pain has three dimensions. Inner,

outer, and deep.  The salty river connects to the great ocean, and it cries when it overflows. Doubting is the storm.  Chaos fills my being while nervously drowning.  Is pain an enemy?  Challenging the layers to break and submerge to a watery grave.




My passion is eternal.  It says, “Keep going.”  It is the hunger of the heart, beating as it craves. Denying is dying with vitality on the line. Is passion freedom?  Flying far beyond boredom, joy, and pain to a place where happiness has a name.


What Came First?


A true origin or an instrument for cultural being?


A place that is nowhere is utopian in theory


My sex is structuralized like the beehive for the bee


What came first sex or lady walking seductively?




The signifiers of her gender linger in the air


An ontological mystery of Freudian despair


To long for the unspeakable and to be at heart what is unreachable




Even the word “woman” is bonage.


Can Butler’s image of the body as text set us free?


Performative as child’s play, yet real as legislative infringement.




Sex divides the w-o from the man


Just as the epidermis once did from the human


When shall we take another stand?   



Enlightenment is an announcement 

A statement of disenchantment

Questions of illusions fill the minds of the youth

The ghost of Socrates haunts the streets in search of the truth

The possibility of knowing is Enlightenment

Public reason emerging from the Modern Cave

Kant singing praises of liberation from the grave

Critical thinkers have broken the chain

Courage is the passport to freedom

Overthrowing the idioms of what use to be

While the Suspicion of the Hermeneutics clips Icarus’s wings.

The dark side of modernity drowns our autonomy

Cyclical is the stew of change

A dash of Speech Acts mixed with a pinch of Discontents

And you are right back where we started

Asking why is true Enlightenment