The Tajfel Experience

The Tajfel Experience

By marcusArtsPerforming Arts
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The Tajfel Experience episodes

  • Truth told to feeble minds. A short poem about the minds of the listeners.
    This false view of stability,
    within the minds of human entities,
    is quite staggering to say the least.
    It's as if they lack the capacity to comprehend
    this fabricated reality.
    As if,
    to them everything is as it should be.
    And,
    more importantly,
    the thought of it collapsing seems to be something they can't vision nor see.
    Though the times in which these minds were cultivated,
    is unprecedented.
    Still they find themselves unable to deem this reality as one absent thought of stagnancy.
    As they attempt to seek a life lived by forms once seen.
    By those one might call,
    family.
    But,
    what's most interesting is even within such thoughtlessness as it relates to what one might deem the "greater good".
    These individuals in question deem themselves to be special,
    which in turn changes culture to simply mirror one's self.
    This selfish view of existence,
    has truthfully never existed.
    At the very least,
    it's never been this prevalent.
    To have a being absent merit,
    deem themselves as one to teach.
    To have a platform in which,
    millions,
    they can reach.
    To be able to regurgitate ideas to a sea of minds,
    allowing each of these minds to think alike.
    Has only taken place within nations and religion.
    Now a "Chris", "Stacey", or "Tim",
    can compel individuals at will to feel as they feel.
    To do as they do.
    Allowing for the formulation of singular truth.
    This type of truth inacts homogeneous tribalism.
    Where as the simplicity of society is broken down entirely.
    And,
    each individual,
    each and every constituent,
    see themselves as not human or American.
    But,
    only what their tribe,
    states.
    The malleability in humanity is plainly seen.
    As so called "influencer's" forge new truth
    inside of these human's brain.
    Creating new ways for them to see themselves,
    as they.
    For now,
    everyone has a group in which they claim.
    And,
    along with that group,
    truth!
    ---
    Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/marcus163/support
    13 min
  • Officially my first episode
    In this episode, I ramble a bit about humanity. Talk a little about what it means to exist within groups and also read a poem called "HANG" that talks about a kid witnessing his dad being lynched.
    ---
    Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/marcus163/support
    12 min
  • "Something To Think About" by poemsbyprice
    American society is quite interesting.
    It seems as if each movement does nothing but feed producing.
    That the thought of freedom,
    escapes the minds of those who believe they're choosing it.
    That everytime there's an outcry to be something,
    the minds of the constituents existing within it,
    regress into wanting absolutely nothing but being a worker and consumer for the public.
    And,
    in choosing such uselessness,
    come away with nothing.
    Feminism is now what's existing at the forefront.
    As women attend rallies,
    go on marches,
    and vote,
    for the right to do as they want.
    In 1970,
    there was an polish social psychologist,
    that devised a study on intergroup discrimination.
    He found that merely placing individuals in groups,
    made the participants in said groups deem themselves to be better and,
    more importantly deem the other group to be worst.
    Essentially,
    If you had a "Group A" and a "Group B",
    said groups would become competitive absent even mentioning competition.
    I mention this to bring up the competition now existing between men and women.
    For,
    when one thinks of this so called "Patriarchal System" the driving force in said system,
    is capitalism.
    So,
    why would competition be feminism's main intention?
    For,
    to compete means only to be seen as the opposition.
    This cannot be what's intended.
    I find it interesting,
    that women consist on 85 percent of the consumer market.
    This simply little fact makes women,
    a lucrative target.
    For now,
    corporations are aware that the use of women in this system can morph from procreation
    and sustaining life.
    To working to climb up corporate ladders,
    and buying things they like.
    Existing supremely attached to comparing one's self to all those alike.
    And,
    hedonically existing,
    as each material one possess,
    increases one's pleasure base as to never be satisfied.
    This seems destructive,
    as if the participants in question
    have yet to discover,
    the illusion they seem to be under.
    Think of this,
    If feminism thought deeply about what it means to be equal,
    why wasn't beauty as a commodity a driving feature?
    Why is there no talk of the unionization of said beauty?
    Especially,
    when "Sex Sells" is an everyday saying?
    And,
    places like "Hooters" are frequented daily?
    Why,
    is feminism creating,
    the same freedom,
    everyone else has.
    Indifference,
    unless one pays
    and works,
    daily?
    ---
    Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/marcus163/support
    3 min
  • This is a poem by poemsbyprice called "Brother And Sister".
    His eyes will never unsee this sence.
    Monday night,
    screams coming from the other side of the house.
    He's terrified but still,
    he inches slowly,
    attempting to find out.
    This scream seems so familiar.
    He now realizes its his sister.
    His heart's pounding as her screams get louder as he tip toes nearer.
    He peeks around the corner,
    and instantly meets her eyes.
    So painfully blue,
    red in the place of white.
    Tears flowing ceaselessly,
    flooding the ground.
    Right then she screams out,
    "HELP!"
    He runs away,
    as if to say.
    "I'm only 10 there's nothing I can do today."
    But she's 8,
    he must help in some kind of way.
    He remembered,
    dad kept a pistol in the closet,
    next to his hunting equipment.
    He grasped it,
    intimidated by the sheer bulk of it.
    And, the weight of his decision.
    For, he knew enough to know,
    this would kill him.
    He ran in and screamed,
    "Get off my sister!"
    Shoots twice,
    dads dead.
    He drops the pistol.
    ---
    Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/marcus163/support
    2 min
  • This is a poem called "the house down the road" read full poem in description
    It was a Saturday morning.
    Dad and mom were arguing,
    but,
    truthfully it didn't seem important.
    For,
    this happened almost every morning.
    I had to be about ten then,
    I woke up stretching and yawning,
    thinking of absolutely nothing.
    I remember seeing my brother chuckling,
    he was laughing at how I stretched my arms out,
    purposely slapping our sister in the face,
    pretending it was accidental so I wouldn't get in trouble.
    0f course,
    she slapped me back,
    then we begin to wrestle.
    Still,
    we could hear them arguing.
    We stopped all movement,
    as if to become mannequins.
    Our ears perked up,
    we now,
    begin listening.
    We heard this thump.
    It was so loud.
    It made each one of us jump.
    Then another comes,
    and another,
    and another.
    Thump!
    Thump!
    Thump!
    The door opens,
    and this hand that seemed to have been dipped in red.
    Reaches out,
    as we see our dad.
    "Where's mom dad?"
    I ask.
    "What did you do?"
    He stutters slightly and says,
    "I killed her,
    now I'm gonna kill you."
    We all scream,
    thinking this can't be true.
    My oldest brother screams,
    "Run you two,
    I'll fight him off for you!"
    I never seen my brother again.
    But,
    everyday I thank him for what he did.
    For,
    that little bit of time,
    allowed me and my sister to live.
    We ran out the house,
    and got help.
    As we were knocking on the neighbor's door,
    we heard shots come from the house.
    It was my dad.
    He killed my brother,
    then killed himself.....
    ---
    Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/marcus163/support
    2 min
  • "HANG"
    She held tightly, nails digging deep into his hand. So deep she unintentionally breaks through his skin.
    As blood trickles, no pain is felt.
    No sensation.
    As, his brain is overtaken by this immediate situation.
    One so intense he can't wince, unable to make sense of this scene as it commences.
    For, why has this come to pass?
    For, what type of hate is this? And, for what reason is it directed towards them?
    At the tender age of 8, such thoughts ignite his brain.
    As this crowd shouts, calling him everything but his name.
    He now looks down at his hand, but not seeking to check the blood.
    He's seeking to understand just what this color does.
    Is he this color as this crowd states?
    How did he become less at the age of 8?
    Less than human, less than seen, less than even cattle, to this crowd he is merely meat.
    Tears stitch into the sides of his cheeks,
    As he watches his father's feet dangle from the tree
    ---
    Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/marcus163/support
    4 min
  • "The Tree In The Forrest"
    I love to sit in silence.
    Its the only moments I notice,
    I truly don't exist.
    That me being me,
    means nothing,
    not even to human.
    That in this moment,
    this silent moment,
    whatever I am,
    is lost in the abyss.
    Whatever one deems me to be,
    holds no merit,
    while I sit in this room,
    silently.
    To be so plagued with intention.
    To need interpersonal interaction.
    To need eyes,
    sound,
    touch,
    just to be someone.
    Im reminded of the tree,
    as it stands alone in the forrest.
    And,
    pondering minds wonder.
    When it drops,
    does a sound commence forming?
    If,
    the absence of perception,
    means to human,
    it goes unnoticed?
    I have not lived a life,
    surrounded by painted minds.
    Minds so intrigued,
    they attempt to color in every line.
    To define,
    what I in mind,
    would essentially never try.
    The worst thing about such a life,
    is not knowing,
    what they define.
    So in this silence,
    is where I shall reside.
    Until,
    im confronted with a mind,
    I truly find,
    divine....
    ---
    Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/marcus163/support
    2 min
  • The rambling mind of me
    In this episode I simply recite one of my poems "The Rambling Mind Of Me".
    ---
    Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/marcus163/support
    3 min

About The Tajfel Experience

From the publisher's feed

The Tajfel Experience is a podcast about poetry and humanity. I give my thoughts on reality, the concept of actuality, and how the two intersects. One attempts to acknowledge the experiential world…