"Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock."

He had only one enemy left. Two if you counted the body.

he went to hades and hung out with the gods because of his philosophy soul or some shit like that

kek

Faculties and breath cut, his malice sinking - unfrozen, as jaws locked.

He smoked a whole bowl of hemlock once at a party----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- then he shot himself.

Stay clean, O Athenians!

That snitch-bitch Melito accompanies Tantalo on his suffering

*stinking

Don't talk to me or my wife's hemlock ever again

Never before or since has a drink been as well served.

How did they drink from this shit without it spilling all over their chin/beard/chest/etc?

It's basically the same as my bowls and I always spill milk when I drink the leftover milk from my cereal.

Lower fine-motor skills is a common symptom of autism

Good thing I have autism then.

Anyway, why did they design their drinking vessels like that?

It's not as shallow as it looks like.

>tilt slightly
>sip

It was meant to show refinement if one was able to drink from a drinking cup like that, with one hand.

holy..........................................................I want more

Therefore Socrates is dead.

Because why be practical when you can be a snob instead.

That's why they evolved beards in the first place. They called them "man bibs."

And he actually drank it, the absolute madman.

Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock. Right before he died he begged glaucon to come close
-Glaucon my boy I renounce all this pagan nonsense Jesus is the only path to God. Lord forgive me.

The chalice he set down onto the table. He gave a gay look to his boyfriend, they would not have time to fuck. He walked a little, they told him to, and guided the old man in his wandering. Lay down, they said and he did, to die and become legend for corrupting the youth through wit and dick.

Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

fucking kek

kek

Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock. Before he was to enter into that big sleep, he rationally decided that he may as well do in this world what he was not sure he could do after death, if there even was life after death. Gazing into the eyes of his prison warden hypnotically, he asked him to bring him the finest young boy of Athens, a cute thing with wide hips and tiny loins. Overwhelmed by Socrates's powerful and esoteric mind-control techniques that he had learned from the sages of Atlantis, the warden went out to do exactly this and came back with a kid meeting the renowned philosopher's specifications.

Socrates, the buff old philosopher, stared into the kid's eyes. He had two cups of wine given him by the warden according to his request.

Drink up, he said to the kid. This night thy soul may be required of thee.

I ain't drinking none of that, the kid said. I dont know what's in it.

The old philosopher took a sip from first one cup, then the other. There, he said. You can see it's not poisoned.

The kid warily sipped some from his cup. What do you want with me, old man, the kid asked.

He smiled.

Good men must die, as all men must; earthly splendor fades away. Athenian glory, apogee of man, seen only as through a glass, darkly. Shadows waveringly cast across stone cavern walls, the enigmatic contours of the ombre scarcely known, true form unrevealed, yet this we know:
>Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock.
Sacred goblet, heaven-sent! O fateful draught, elixir of life! Blessed be that faithful disciple who with papyrus and pen transfigured your death into immortality! Precious Phaedo, Holy Book, incipient wisdom, giver of eternity!

Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock, fuckface.

>through a glass, darkly
Pls be memeing

>Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock. He actually drank it, the absolute madman.

Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock. The easy part over, he was doomed to centuries of getting blown the fuck out by Heraclitus in the underworld.

I really liked this

Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock. In his final moments his disciples noticed a sombre gaze in his eyes, which was fixed down upon his lap. Finally, he lifted his head up toward Plato, his lips and dirty red-stained beard bobbing up and down as he said decisively, "I want to fuck Charmides' boipussi."

Don't end on a preposition, pleb.

Plato wasn't there.

says Plato............................................

Why would he lie about not being there?

>Never before or since has a drink been as well served.

Capt. Ass-Blaster, sir? Stop blasting my ass with your own shit

Lol

alibi

makes no sense, other people present would testify that he was there.

no one fucks with plato....

whats wrong with it? i was obviously trying to flirt with an intertextual relationship between the Bible and Phaedo

and Republic

its so pretentious my God. I mean just the idea of "flirting" with the intertextual relationship between the bible and the phaedo is so pretentious. Everyone knows.

Augustine was a neo platonist in like fucking...400 AD or some shit. Plato has obviously influenced bible scholarship and probably influenced its writing and theology. Why even flirt with something so obvious? Writing is a kind of trickery. It's supposed to make you think of things you've never thought of before. It's supposed to open your mind to new original(ish) ideas. You're like a magician with obvious tricks. You can see the craft in your writing on a surface level.

whats wrong with using Biblical language though? also i disagree that its pretentious, its just not contemporary. No thees or thous, just a few big scary words. I'm coming off of a Melville/Milton kick and compared to them it seems underwrought if anything.

le epic obscure reference doesn't make something deep by default. not every tidbit of writing is meant to really make u think.

post yours

CRASH

Theres nothing wrong with alluding to the bible or using biblical language you just do nothing interesting with it.

Look at all the good allusions to the bible. (or good allusions in general) The point of an allusion is that it's a figure of speech, its not just something you sprinkle around to make your boring work less boring. It's a tool to be used.

By alluding to the bible passage that most likely already alludes to the subject matter you're writing on you're essentially doing nothing. Through a glass darkly alludes to plato's concept of the cave and the foibles of humanity's attempts to grasp the truth. By alluding to it in a peice about socrates you're essentially working in a circle. It's just dumb.

Have you even read Moby Dick? thats not what it sounds like at all. Name me one place in Moby Dick where Melville uses that many exclamation marks. In fact, name me one place in any of Milton's poems where he uses that many unnecessary exclamation marks.

>By alluding to the bible passage that most likely already alludes to the subject matter you're writing on

.... i wanted to stop reading here because you're more likely than not retarded.

>Have you even read Moby Dick?
yes, have you? If I was more interested in Bowditch than the Phaedon maybe I could have written something more to your taste.

>Name me one place in Moby Dick where Melville uses that many exclamation marks.
Ok.
>But as in landlessness alone resides highest truth, shoreless, indefinite as God- so better is it to perish in that howling infinite, than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee, even if that were safety! For worm-like, then, oh! who would craven crawl to land! Terrors of the terrible! is all this agony so vain? Take heart, take heart, O Bulkington! Bear thee grimly, demigod! Up from the spray of thy ocean-perishing- straight up, leaps thy apotheosis!

>In fact, name me one place in any of Milton's poems where he uses that many unnecessary exclamation marks.
im not trying to bite their whole style lmfao, im just trying to capture the vibe.

go back to /sffg/

>By alluding to the bible passage that most likely already alludes to the subject matter you're writing on you're essentially working in a circle. It's just dumb.
or you know, i could just be extolling both works
>Have you even read Moby Dick?
yes, have you? If I was more interested in Bowditch than the Phaedon maybe I could have written something more to your taste.

>Name me one place in Moby Dick where Melville uses that many exclamation marks.
Ok.
>But as in landlessness alone resides highest truth, shoreless, indefinite as God- so better is it to perish in that howling infinite, than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee, even if that were safety! For worm-like, then, oh! who would craven crawl to land! Terrors of the terrible! is all this agony so vain? Take heart, take heart, O Bulkington! Bear thee grimly, demigod! Up from the spray of thy ocean-perishing- straight up, leaps thy apotheosis!

>In fact, name me one place in any of Milton's poems where he uses that many unnecessary exclamation marks.
im not trying to bite their whole style lmfao, im just trying to capture the vibe.

...

>prose
nah

Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock
there is a roaming pack of wild chickens that live in my home town

who are you to say
that you
in all of your fleshiness and bubbling
that any ounce of you
is as Siegfried was to Roy
as the colossus was to the ancient humans
as the stars were to the feral animals who live in these mountains

I see stars
I see love
I see nothing and nothing and nothing again
a vast valley
an empty cave
a parked car on the side of the beach

turbulence
tequila lobster claws
tearstains and neon lights
shitty stupid dumb old antiquated trite and boring

all love is hands being held and that's what is important
spit into my throat
choke me to death
I still love you

even if you shot up a school
even if you cheated on a test
even if you didn't read my emails

I still love you

the wisdom of cynicality will only last as long as the hollow bones of birds

That's not how "aesthetic" should be used.

Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock.

Jesus was nailed to a cross.

Lincoln was shot in the head.

JFK was betrayed.

MLK was put down like a dog.

It looks like the old man was right.

No man will survive who opposes the crooked mob. For a good guy to live, he has to keep to himself and let the world burn.

Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock. It was tasteless. He lay down and thought, as he usually did, but one would one think at a time like this? His mind was plagued by the thought of death; rendered useless and subordinated entirely to the unknown. Around him his disciples droned on uselessly as they had forever. He could bear their annoyance no longer and got up to pace around the room.

He tried his hardest to enjoy these last moments of life. But slowly the thought rose in his head like a glorious golden dawn: had he enjoyed any moment of life? The entire existence had been one of misery, misunderstanding, and darkness. He tried his hardest to improve the fallacies of others but ever they resisted his wisdom. Stupid fools.

But he knew he was being cynical. There was alsl magnificent beauty in this world. He caught a beaming ray of sun through a shaft on the top of the bleak wall; lamented leaving it behind. Good music, good love, good wine. His mind wandered to nature. He remembered a walk in the woods his father and he had taken when he was a boy. He remembered thr way the long trees stretched their shadows across the pathway. He had pondered that moment many times in his life, attributed it to his first philosophical thought. Would he walk again with his father in the afterlife?

He went back to the bed. The men still squabbled. Socrates saw no reason to attempt again to make them see the light. He closed his eyes and watched the fractals dance around. A creeping numbness washed over his feet and legs. He wished to feel the ocean one last time. The death swept up to his heart and arms. He wished he loved his family more. Finally the icy fingers of Hades grabbed his head. Loneliness and confusion he felt last.

The moment he lowered the rough-hewn chalice from his moistened lips, his lover, the young Alcibiades, seized Socrates by wrapping his slender arms around the old man's waist. He gazed passionately into the eyes of the man who awaited death; eyes as still and tranquil as those of a pelican waiting to spot a fish flashing in the water below; eyes of azure blue, like the sky of a clear spring morning shining through the sockets of a skull. Overwhelmed by the depth of those jewels, he leaned forward and, without pausing for thought, planted a big gay kiss on the old man, who suddenly began to struggle.

Throwing the stupid young man to the ground, Socrates bellowed: "In the name of Ecbatana! What do you think you're doing you flaming faggot!? My death was supposed to be a noble and sublime affair, not the sort of event which can be witnessed in any Spartan wine shop!" He snuffled and pulled at his beard with a profound agitation. "My God, how obscene and so on!"

Alcibiades lay in the dust, a dull blush creeping across his handsome face, as if painted by the invisible hand of an 'artiste' with the most kitsch of sensibilities. "N-no homo, I just wanted to say goodbye Socrates-san".

Socrates was put to death
by drinking a chalice of poison,
hemlock,
the ultimate cockblock;
hits you harder that a rock,
nastier than a jack-off sock,
that is what you get when you mock
the patrician for his three-inch cock.

Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock, a poison not strong enough to kill instantly, but to provide someone as mentally nimble as S. to reflect on life and realize the enlightenment on the pain of death and the doldrums of breathlessness, reason's delirium, the antipodes of calmness, the effluvium of having not been inscribed except vicariously, the deadly weight of the truth, pressing on his spine, waiting, willing the end as if the means set up camp of the banks of nowever. It was written.

...

Socrates was put to death by drinking a chalice of poison, hemlock your iPhone $99 send SIM card to 097-7832-92837 Box 109. Guardian article and Daily Mail article 69 in a child brain and dual dildo an icicle. Cold remedy ZzzQuil $9.99, Debora Bacardi dead at 70, would have lived her 70s in the 70s, 71 spent mentally golfing on the Moon. Grandchildren play Doom and read Dune, smoke doobies and listen to the Doobie Brothers, strangle each other's necks and cocks and die soon, not of the auto-erotic but of an atomic bomb installed in an automobile in a Mobile station in Mobile blown by mobile phone by bubs seeking 72 virgins (Version 2.0) seeing God in clown porn