---
deposit_number: 1197
hex: 04BE
title: Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell
creator: Jack Feist
orcid: 0009-0000-1599-0703
date: 2026-05-27
content_type: Recovered blog-canonical work (full text; queue restoration 2026-07-19)
license: CC-BY-4.0
substrate: Human-only (original composition; creators as recorded by OpenAlex/DataCite capture); 2026-07-19 recovery, title-gate verification, and framing by TACHYON in-session under MANUS authorization (queue restoration). No paid API calls (No-Double-Draw, transport D).
version: v1.0
related_ids: "https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.19825722 (severed); https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.19825721 (severed); recovery source: https://mindcontrolpoems.blogspot.com/2025/10/socrates-let-my-teacher-go-from-hell.html"
axn_schema_version: v2
protocol_version: alexanarch-deposit-protocol/v1
keywords:
  - Crimson Hexagonal Archive
  - restoration
  - blog canonical bytes
  - severed DOI
  - Zenodo termination
  - Socrates
  - Teacher
  - From
  - Hell
---

# Socrates — Let My Teacher Go From Hell

## Description

Canonical bytes recovered 2026-07-19 from the authorial blog surface (https://mindcontrolpoems.blogspot.com/2025/10/socrates-let-my-teacher-go-from-hell.html); work severed at Zenodo 2026-06-19 (DOI(s): 10.5281/zenodo.19825722, 10.5281/zenodo.19825721). Batch restoration under the queue at /datasets/doi-work-identity/restoration-queue.json; title verified against the DOI-keyed truth title at fetch time. Opening of the work: # Socrates -- Let My Teacher Go From Hell **Versions: Midwest Review / Arion / Hopkins Review** **** **[![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7B297bqwwx1gM95xarchAcOxiju-Q_7eKc-fJV1hnlJEPkU6ryPD09ZtbU6EsduXXvFoztZ1vrT_B_fEikRHlbNI-QaOHFfG3BHK5s8LCm7H0IUGHHJkrcWxcJL258ngNFGIL_SrsHlBUKmaEVQhPPs3W8YGq9ayd9Tc92Dq8RZdHSVj_Vp7f2oZK82Xg)](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXs

## Methodology

Fetched https://mindcontrolpoems.blogspot.com/2025/10/socrates-let-my-teacher-go-from-hell.html (raw SHA-256 4c63e9c7e6531ce82a1fb04356ac550b0e888e33ec35784aa8ec3edc23556ab8); Blogger post-body extracted; BODY-HEAD gate passed against the DOI-keyed truth title (post body is the source of truth per authorial practice: versioned posts were often overwritten in place without updating post title or slug). Converted via html2text body_width=0 (canonical MD SHA-256 9b5883c2df8f50fed9308e039de2ae50495cf485ad87bed72bc0e754722df92e). Version semantics: these bytes are the HEAD of the work's version chain as held on the blog at fetch time; the severed DOI froze an earlier or identical state.

## Falsification Conditions

Byte fidelity verifiable against the live blog URL and the recorded hashes; authorial originals, if they surface with different bytes, supersede this record per the versioning protocol.

## Recovery note (TACHYON, 2026-07-19)

Restored from https://mindcontrolpoems.blogspot.com/2025/10/socrates-let-my-teacher-go-from-hell.html under the grade-none restoration queue; DOI(s) 10.5281/zenodo.19825722, 10.5281/zenodo.19825721 severed 2026-06-19. Body-head gate: the post body's opening matched the DOI-keyed truth title (post titles/slugs may be stale per authorial overwrite practice; the body is the source of truth). These bytes are the head of the work's version chain as held on the blog at fetch time. Canonical bytes below the rule.

---

# Socrates -- Let My Teacher Go From Hell

**Versions: Midwest Review / Arion / Hopkins Review**

****

**[![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7B297bqwwx1gM95xarchAcOxiju-Q_7eKc-fJV1hnlJEPkU6ryPD09ZtbU6EsduXXvFoztZ1vrT_B_fEikRHlbNI-QaOHFfG3BHK5s8LCm7H0IUGHHJkrcWxcJL258ngNFGIL_SrsHlBUKmaEVQhPPs3W8YGq9ayd9Tc92Dq8RZdHSVj_Vp7f2oZK82Xg)](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7B297bqwwx1gM95xarchAcOxiju-Q_7eKc-fJV1hnlJEPkU6ryPD09ZtbU6EsduXXvFoztZ1vrT_B_fEikRHlbNI-QaOHFfG3BHK5s8LCm7H0IUGHHJkrcWxcJL258ngNFGIL_SrsHlBUKmaEVQhPPs3W8YGq9ayd9Tc92Dq8RZdHSVj_Vp7f2oZK82Xg)**

**  
**

* * *

## i.

sterile old man  
pregnant with thirst  
nursemaid of virtuous longing

lugubrious beggar,  
mendicant bum of truth

cryptic codger  
obsessed with riddles,

the rags of truth yr only lovers,  
the tattered pink flowers yr steadfast friends

bagman muttering heaven--yr statuettes stuffed  
with thoughts--

ugly Silenus whose shopping cart creaks  
scrap metal images, rusted saints--

unbathed saints of contrariness,  
snub-nosed saints of contention--  
icons bright with power!

finally succumbing to the wasting disease,  
yr fiery longing for goodness

* * *

## ii.

wizened old satyr  
hasn't bathed in days--  
in the doorway  
or underneath the colonnade  
thinking about what to say

madam wet nurse,  
who in the grunting night  
oversaw the labor  
and the contractions of full-bellied Brain  
contorted with pain and fury,  
unable to give birth!

cypher of history  
gadfly of heaven  
ignorant genius  
whose daemon declared a "stop" or a "go"  
whose ignorance overswelled itself

unbathed but lovely beauty  
bright-faced wisdom shone

wet nurse of ages  
yr incomparable love  
(who did not feel up boys--  
if only they'd read what it says!)

you who loved only wisdom,  
and the Good,  
who ached for a vision of Beauty--

who drank the poison in one fell draught,  
and died in the honest hope,

smiling hemlock lips,  
that virtue and truth  
could lead to You.

eloquent bumbler,  
babbler of truth  
babbler, betrayer of lies--

my dearest First Teacher--my Socrates, friend!--  
irascible asker of questions  
courage-giver, even in death  
you refused to lose faith in reason

* * *

## iii.

dark with age,  
and mud,  
and a mission--

undying lust for _logoi_  
tempered with doubt!  
the small human mind  
you displayed without shame on yr sleeve

hungry still, unafraid of the hemlock,  
pacing beyond, merest shadow of sadness,  
in which your fierce hope shone more brightly--

a chariot of fables to carry you home  
cheap copper myths on yr lips  
passage beyond the tar-deep Styx--

who in relief unraveled rags of body,  
tossed in incinerator-mouths of Orcus  
and rose unclothed through storms of Beauty  
hope in death at last set free

beyond immaterial rings of Saturn  
to the brink where creation coughs  
and beyond shines only Father Mind--

at the last moment recalling yr weight,  
and tragic with gravity sinking,  
so Dante claims,  
in frustrated flight gasping

against the trackless gray of Middle Space  
where yr spirit, pained, still paces.

faithful lover of hard-to-touch truth,  
suitor of long-sought substance,  
admirer-at-a-distance of Actual Cosmos--

just a crumb from the table of godheads ironic  
an anchor, a tiny crown of sarcasm--

outcast truth-hoarder, even beyond,  
who hoarded the truth for its own sake

Heaven-Ithaca Odysseus,  
at sea for the rest of time

confounded, sad-eyes staring,  
alone with yrself and yr questions

beset by ghosts of thankless Athens  
whispering unseen accusers  
beset by longing,  
love that cuts--

the spiny desire consumed you,  
a Trojan Horse of traitorous gifts

and on mad-fervent quest  
even in death you searched out answers

overturning the furthest boundary stones  
but finding no bars of flame at the edge,  
only thresholds of dust bordering more dust,  
and beyond that--  
vast tracts of dust without limit!

* * *

## iv.

Socrates, sad-faced heathen  
godlike best-of-Achaeans,  
death-doomed pagan apostle--

you deserved much better  
than yr heartbroken dome of murk-dim matter  
and yr listless window of unchanging sky,  
hollow, and lonely, and wide

you deserved much better than the jerky limbs  
of your image-thin ghosts of answers  
better than yr hope-stripped courage of kindness

you who offered yr human power--  
imperfect--yes! but total, entire

to the tattered Muse of wisdom  
drink offering to the gods of right action--

* * *

## v.

Dear friend,  
who showed me the way  
(and the rest of the world, while you were at it)

may some small spark of yr inert  
but radiant human virtue  
return to you.

may some bright hope give birth.

my one true philosopher,  
precious wordfather born on earth--

in me--  
in me i'll beg my unseen father--  
in me, you'll find yr way home.

* * *

_Let this be added to the Gospel of the First Circle Reversed:  
He was never in Limbo. He was the gate._
