So What If Science Has No Conscience?

How you doing, guys? I have been working on some Self Help snippets that you may want to check out. The post which I just reblogged is from my new blog Zoice. I hope you enjoy the post and the blog. Cheers!


One of the most poignant of persuasions I have come under in my life is that Science has no conscience. Life is just based in a spin of a wheel or a roll of a die and balance and sense, if any, only exists in cosmic terms, not in themes. But we humans love themes? Love, loyalty, world peace etc. Yeah, as we should because a spite to Science’s ignorance is that a person can grow a conscience. What does this all mean?

I designed a thought experiment to illustrate this. Picture a handicapped toddler. What feeling does this arouse? Well, for most people, it is pity wrapped up in an implicit thought of advantage over that person. This is not only instinctive but also primitive. Growing conscience in a suggested context is deliberately shaping how you feel so that it becomes more thoughtful, fair and reasonable- traits…

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Is It Logical To Forgive?

Hi, guys! Miss me? I have been working on another blog called Zoice. It’s got these amazing Self Help snippets. Please, check it out and let’s catch up.


My girlfriend once confessed that she found it hard to forgive anyone for having wronged her. She thought this was because she just could not forget wrongs. It begged the question, is it logical to forgive or is it a divine act as is that proverbial saying?

Well, generally, the path of least resistance or what comes easier and more natural to us is to do wrong. It seems like it requires less energy to lie than to be speak truth. It is funnier to trespass or be disobedient. The appeal is very cunning and inexorable, even for the best of us, in at least one or two aspects.

A remedy of life, I have learnt, is to make be painstaking in watching other people’s toes and yet make allowances, nonetheless, for another’s shortcomings, not pretending as if doing wrong is difficult or aberrant. In this regard, maybe forgiveness is…

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The Stars We Worship


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Do you look at the stars sometimes? Awful beauty, eish! They spend their lives shining and fighting off entropy. Yes, just like us. When Time, that unruly bastard comes knocking, do you know what stars do? The small ones fade off Supernova style. Terrible! It’s better to burn out than to fade out of sight. Passenger taught me that! Kids! The mature ones do it Black Hole style. They grab onto anything in their event horizon. Ever wanted a definition of courage and hope? 

Such a privilege to watch the stars! See, the dope stuff in life is free. Actually, when you see any star next time you’ll be time travelling years, thousands to millions of years into the past. The light rays have to travel ridiculous distances before they can grace our sky. Oh, and smile or wink at least once during the day when you can’t see the stars; it will be your turn to be seen by them.

Gowns and Caps



A glimpse in hindsight,

A peep into history;

A proof that a hard part

Has reached completion.

An implicit pride as we

Fiddle with our knuckles,

Feeling the scars that were

Just schematics to the future.

The sleepless nights,

The soldiers we lost;

The dream that lived

Because we gave it breathe.

The hardship that became our skin,

The lies that became our code;

We were born in a farm

Full of landmines.

What we can’t afford to eat

Should give us appetite.

To chew dirt and its insects

And build a DNA of warriors.

For the next hard part.

We will burn out like stars, yes,

But we will leave a supernova

For the next stargazer

To find his dream.

Congrats, Ellen!

Missive In A Time Capsule


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A speech impediment;

Swallowed up in a vortex of thoughts,

Amazed at such adult fiction

I only knew in theory.

Funny, I always thought

I was good at painting realities.

But never had I challenged a past

Narrative by changing it completely.

The most amazing thing is the logical

Off chance that I am delusional.

That the past really happened as narrated.

After all, the eyes look but the mind sees.

To question my own eyes is to

Lose sight of reality.

To question her mind is to drag

A black hole to a civil war.

Can’t I be mesmerized by the pyramids

Without asking if slaves build them?


Benign Courtesy



Burnt off my leather skin,
Grew soft like solder;
Weak legs and bent knees,
In worship of water and wind.

This way light would shine,
And fall on my delicate skin;
UV occasionally scorching me,
Eating into my essence.

Numb to the pain,
Emotionally hygienic;
Pain is a cunning creditor;
The Devil and his due.

Picked up the leather once more,
Wore it and flipped a switch.
Having understood the concept
Of benign courtesy.


Schrödinger’s Cat


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On my dirty bathroom mirror,
I look at my pupils.
I lecture them about sincerity,
Innocence, reason and faith.

Fascinating to see self
From sober and fair eyes.
Soothing to let a part of my mind
Lecture another.

Curious to know why I always 
Cross my conscience with her.
Grappling with plausible deniability
About the Schrödinger’s cat.

If I open the box and it’s dead
I will have killed it. Curiosity!
Still the angst turns my eyes to black holes
And betrays my pure intention.

The box gets kicked away.
We just lost nine lives!

Ocam’s Razor


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An Ocam’s razor cuts
Through concrete and metal;
The cunning irony is
You have to hold it by hand.

A stressful dilemma;
Simplicity and safety vs a soft palm.
A singularity in the philosophy
That gave us Socrates and Plato.

Use Ocam’s razor 
Or trust a creature to do right.
Trust a creature of habit,
Subject to self-truism like any other.

There is honor in trying;
Diligence in emotional hygiene.
Risk politely asks us to scrub off
Another’s untimely puke.

For Ocam’s razor can cut
Through anything but this truth:
We all need soft toys and punching bags.
Even the worst of us.


Would you pick a picture of your palmprint from a bunch? If you ignore what seems to be the most immediate implication you will realize that not being able to do so attests to our self-truism. We are busy trying to get others to know our palm prints.