Qualia

The properties of objects, the nature of the given-

Sensations and perceptions I am,I am,

Private detective sniffing out the clues...

How can I tell you what red is?

It is all so implausible, the real.

Before the melody ends I can sense its wave,

The square root of minus one.

I only know what I think I know.


What does hurting? It is,was,will be,that’s all.

Changes,all changes,the day,the hour, the minute-

Oh so clumsily I express my expressions,-

Where is the information?

The maps are full of errors.

There are no ifs or buts,no maybes

Here in Maybeland.

I must maintain philosophical equilibrium.

I must keep to principles, whatever they are.


You cannot explain all this away.

You cannot explain me away.

That grey squirrel in the branches outside

Is the square root of minus one.