Phenomenal Philosopher

(after Maya Angelou)

Petty philosophers wonder where my thesis lies.
I’m not smart or built to theorize
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my propositions
The span of my logic,
The stride of my argument,
The curl of my rhetoric.
I’m a philosopher
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal philosopher,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a disciple,
The acolytes stand or
Fall down on their syllogisms.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of minor premises.
I say,
It’s the fire in my cogito,
And the flash of my materialism,
The swing in my noumena,
And the joy in my ontology.
I’m a philosopher
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal philosopher,
That’s me.

Disciples themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner monadology.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my mind-body problem,
The sun of my hermeneutics,
The ride of my fallacies,
The grace of my axioms.
I’m a philosopher

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal philosopher,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not contingent.
I don’t appeal to emotion or authority
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me ratiocinating
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my eternal return,
The bend of my dialectic,
the Weltanshauung of my Wirklichkeit,
The need of my petitio principii,
‘Cause I’m a philosopher
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal philosopher,
That’s me.

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