aerdil posted:
yeah its just tweaked versions of the paradox of predestination and appeals from ignorance

thx u rly annihilated that veil before my eyes

Making judgement about tawheed when you have only read about one of it's characteristics is intellectually dishonest and an argument from ignorance.

Impper posted:
write some cool stuff for us. i wrote a book of poetry but probably i'll never show it to anyone

everything i've done so far has been utter shit, the words refuse to do what i want them to, i want some amphetamines

For example, if a wonderworker wants to build a mighty palace, he first of all sets the foundations in a wise and regular fashion, and plans them in a way suitable to their future purpose and results. Then he skilfully divides them into sections and apartments. Next, he orders and arranges the apartments, and decorates them with tapestries, then illuminates them with electric lights. Then, in order to renew his ingenious works and favours in that magnificent and adorned palace, he makes fresh creations and new changes and transformations in every level of it. And then he installs a telephone in each apartment connected to his own abode, and opens up a window from each, so that his may be seen.

In just the same way, And God's is the highest similitude,2 the Peerless Creator, Who is named with a thousand and one sacred Names such as All-Glorious Maker, All-Wise Sovereign, All-Just Arbiter, willed the creation of the palace of the universe and tree of the cosmos, which forms the macrocosm. He set the foundations of the palace, the tree in six days through the principles of wisdom and laws of His pre-eternal knowledge, then He divided and formed it into the higher and lower levels and branches through the principles of Divine Determining and Decree. Next, He adorned everything, each world in an appropriate manner, like the heavens with the stars and the earth with flowers. Then He manifested and made luminous His Names within the arena of those universal laws and general principles. And then in a special way sent to the assistance of individuals crying out at the constraint of those universal laws His Names of Most Merciful and All-Compassionate. That is to say, within those universal and general principles He has special favours, special succour, special manifestations, so that everything may seek help from Him and look to Him at every time for every need. Then from every apartment, every level, every world, every realm of being, every individual, from everything, He opened up windows which would show Himself, that is, make known His existence and Unity. He left a telephone in every heart.

If we look, we see that all things and especially living creatures have numerous different needs and numerous different wants. And those wants and needs are given them at the appropriate time, in unexpected ways, from places they do not know and their hands cannot reach; succour comes to them. But the power of these needy beings is not sufficient for even the smallest of those endless things they wish for; they cannot meet their needs. Consider yourself. Of how many things are you in need that your hands cannot reach, like your external and inner senses and their needs? Compare all other living creatures with yourself. See, just as singly they testify to the Necessary Existence and indicate to His Unity, so too in their totality do they show to the reason a Necessarily Existent One behind the veil of the Unseen, a Single One of Unity, among titles of Most Generous, All-Compassionate, Nurturer, and Disposer.

And so, O ignorant unbeliever and dissolute heedless one! With what can you explain this wise, percipient, compassionate activity? Deaf Nature? Blind force? Senseless chance? Can you explain it through impotent, lifeless causes?

Edited by babyfinland (Feb. 28, 2012 07:17:57)

deadken posted:
ok here's a poem i wrote today. i still need to sort out some of the meter i think..... also its, like, really bad. its about waking up w/ a headache after a totally wild party.

The weary movement of hoary spheres
That spin forever on pointless paths
Counting out days and months and years

Reveals:

A room clogged with points of dust
Darting about in the sun’s first beams
They collide with each other in rage and lust

Only the dust is still dancing.

Empty beer bottles stand here and there
Like the haughty towers of a fortress town
Long since fallen, and in disrepair

Now the owls have made it their home.

An ashtray bristles with cigarette butts
Like broken spears in the desert sand
A thousand soldiers had their throats cut

Only the wind can remember their names.

A ten-dollar bill lies tightly curled
Like the scroll of some eternal Law
Too just and simple for this world

The parchment rots away.

Clothes, scattered like cyclopean stones
Of a temple built on a sacred spring
Now choked with vines and overgrown

The gods of the forest reclaimed it.

Beside me, her body rises and falls
Like the surging of the immortal tides
Lapping against the harbour walls

Wearing away the masonry.

Her skin, that last night was smooth and pale
Now dotted with scars and pimples and moles
Like barnacles on the back of a whale

Her song’s a sad one. It has no words.

The past is dead
All we have are its relics.

The past is dead
In the dead past we can live forever.

thats pretty cool imho, which is all u can really say about poetry, i guess. the cigarette butts was funny

Groulxsmith posted:
i demand ken stop posting pointless stories about his social life

tough shit