Bruce Marsh

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Who is Bruce Marsh?

The only way to have a friend is to be one. ..

  • Phone Number *** - **** 9913
  • E-Mailbluebear271***@******.***
  • Birthday25 September 1953
  • Education -
  • Address Galway Road No: 9913
  • CityBallinasloe
  • CountryIreland

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About Bruce Marsh

i can smell the near impossibility of being
an aphorism digest having to escape into poetic -
in rhyme... who the fuck writes rhyming poetry
and doesn't don victorian attires
readied for a funeral? if god is dead,
so is rhyme in poetry - i long lost forgot
to find / relapse into rhyming geometry...
what a bogus closure gimmick:
most certainly the right avenue to exit
replicating the dross of rhyme...
if poetry was solely defined by rhyme?
then rhyme should die...
if there are still people who conjecture poetry = rhyme...
shoot them, metaphorically...
shoot them dead by a Stalinist squandron
of trigger-happy goat-herders!
i will not rhyme words unless i do so...
subconsciously, and on the odd occassion...
spontaneous rhyme...
not this... bogus: poetic pristine geometry
francis McGalore... was i asking for kilts?!
no, i wasn't... what fucking good is a rhyme
to me than that age old emphasis
of pedagogty... to rhyme is to make emphasis
of the errosion of memory...
just pour some acid on a few words...
ensure they rhyme...
then ensure there are enough willing sheep
willing to regurgitate the lindo...
bollocks to poetry with an emphasis
on rhyme...
on that -suffix cascade...
i'll piss on a pandemonium
to have the demons notice...
this is not a fucking
placebo drill... wake up... or get pissed on!
how's that golden shower on yer
protuding horns?
feel the buckle of the buckling horns
writing signatures into caverns, alleys
and sandpits?!
why was poetry ever associated with rhyming?
echo inflation or some other weird sort
of bollocks?
no rhyme no go?
as if rhyming ever replicated
the echo...
besides... there are other tiers of interest...

no man has ever, or will ever, for that matter,
live a life having succumbed to
allow himself to exfoliate into a life
having ascribed to himself the Kantian
categorical imperative -
you'd need at least two maxims
to pursue a justifiably oblique life
like drawing a straight line...
you'd require two points...
two maxims...
i sometimes forget my two...
the taoist: the best way to help the world
is to forget the world,
and in so doing, allow for the world to
forget you...
i can't remember the second imperative...
nonetheless, to live a life is to follow
at least two categorical imperatives
(alias... maxims)... a third is a luxury...
but no more than three...

none of us can comply with the Kantian wish:
for fuck's sake even god was ten commandments -
to live a life bound to a single categorical imperative -
is to live a life according to one commandment -
impossible! that's bound to associate itself
with distubring a hive of wasps:
sooner or later alt. pathologies will come
and disrupt the practice...

2 is a minimum...
3 is just adequate...

after all... the kantian categorical imperative
is -esque to a concentration of maxims -
the maxim is a concentrated form
of an aphorism - while the aphorism
is an imitation of a paragraph -
whereby the aphorism differs from
a a paragraph in the sort of way
that it can be read in isolation
being completely disconcerned from
the complete effort of the narrative...

can you compare la rochefoucauld to nietzsche?
sure you can!
of either the former or the latter?
who was better at the maxim form,
and who was better at the aphorism form?
la rochefoucauld....
he must have lived in the confines
of a peacock prancing society enclave...
in a salon - heavily dominated by
madames and other assortments of
social climbers... his maxims are just that:
the ridiculously piquant niblets...

la rochefoucauld never attempted a
res extensa (cartesian extended thing)
of a maxim, he never sought the categorical
imperative - a summa summarum of maxims -
he never attempted a res extensa of
a maxim in the form of an an aphorism...

nietzsche? he tried to condense an aphorism
into a maxim... the paragraph outside the legion
of a fictive narrative did not sway hold
on his myopic observations -
even having befriended a type
akin to Wagner... no help at all...

i will give examples...

in the meantime? i have a bias
against nietzsche... i do appreciate self-deprecating
humor along the lines of ethnicity...
the polacks are idiots... the irish 2nd best...
the english: all knowing omni-behest
people of the world that enlighten others...
but when faced with internal problems...
know jack shit from either jack the ripper
or jack the quater pounder slab of fried beef!
was kant really an idiot at the summit
of his life's expenditure?
i hardly think the idiot kant would have
disagreed with the madman nietzsche.

perhaps that the sole reason why i drink...
i drink: i exfoliate my zunge...
blurred coral hue patterns of colour
stem and subsequently succumb
to (plants seeking light) methodology /
intrinsic or uncoscious -
barriers of terms:
instrinsic - inbred -
the ontological stasis libra -
unconscious / pseudo-adoptive /
focusing on a prerequisite of
imagination / improv implementation...

by now the kantian categorical imperative
becomes akin to the summa summarum
of voltaire at the end of candide -
in that rehersed "revision" of the chinese proverb...
the golden rule:
do unto others, as you'd want other do unto you...
that was the ever lonely categorical imperative
in existence of what followed in that
european fashion to uttering hot air

of the two authors given before the altar
of comparison...
if la rochefoucauld perfected the maxim -
he sure as shit didn't expand the maxim
into the maxim-paragraph known as
the aphorism dedicated to nietzsche...

nietzsche :
when his life and reason are mature, man
comes to feel that his father was wrong to beget him...

yes... the sort of sentiment i feel
more closely associated when eating a poultry abortion
of a poached egg first thing in the morning
come sunrise and the labours of the day that must come...

i will not recite an aphorism by nietzsche...
a la rochefoucauld maxim... settles this invariant
you'd really require a slog' lodging akin
to the court of louis XIV at the Versailles to
play the maxim game of making...
the slightest observations ring true
via the most shallow of an assortment of
the people given presence...

a la rochefoucaud maxim:
we give nothing so liberally as our advice...

since the most frequented advice we do give...
is bad advice,

it would appear that only three ethnicities ever
comprehended thought:
the germans with their pathologies,
the french with their eloquence,
the english with their pragmatism...
no one else entertained thinking...
not even the russians!
what a compost heap of bombast!
i can't even imagine the repercussions
of the beta communities...
esp. since the alpha capitol community
build up a beard fetish...

where will ever begin my sense,
of, wonder!

no one ever had thought, never had anyone
experienced: thinking...
only the fwench, zee germann und
zee ingelesemann!
the rest of us were retards all along!
who, would, have, known!
m'hahaha... ha ha...
i'm a normal citizen...
i only have to live in Poland: diversity is our
strength english sociopathy they deem
worthy of being called society
living in england?
helpful... then bilingual becomes

i fucking love it! this horror is what,
makes! me! tick!
franchise the joker skid...
then franchise the whole spiderman
carnage... come antagonist "clues"...
only three people in this world ever
"thought": the germans, the fwench -
and the giggling englishmen with that
bastard child known as the h'american...

i once uttered the words:
well... if god ios dead...
then surely rhyme is dead in poetry...
therefore poetry is dead...
i'm not sure which is the sadder occasion...
is god dead? not sure...
is poetry dead? no shit sherlock!
why incubate poetry in rhymes?
who rhymes these days?
someone who remembers
primary school memory erosion

the first man to think,
became the last man to ever be,
and he who first worth being:
relegated thinking toward the focus
most associate with an inanimate object...

then again, why did Sisyphus
associated the mediocre tide
of time with the composite effort
of the labour,
having found that there was no
over-bearing demon to keep
the credit of deed lodged outside
the realm of
ensuring the stone was moved...
first attempt: second attempt:
via telepathy.

decorum is the least important of all the laws,
but the best observed...

ergo similis:

fashion is the last
outstanding verion of an aversion toward
art... as if it always was the first
grevious suited worth of boot...

i have before me
the most outlasting assorted take on
decorum cum hubris...
i have before me...
the sort of longing
associated with the wind
when presented with a chance
to concentrate upon playing
the flute!

Bruce Marsh's Motto

Maybe there is a beast… maybe it's only us...

Bruce Marsh's Fact

Worcestershire sauce in essentially an Anchovy Ketchup...

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