Happiness In Slavery: November 2011

Friday, November 11, 2011

I Love how Scars Disappear

Forested and properly shelved,

It’s just a long awakening,

Confusing and fun,

Ground zero never felt so good.

Recovered treasures brighten days

And bring tears for old friends.

New councils smooth over scars with gentle ease.

The sun shines brightly on this cloudless night.

Yet the evening breeze reminds cautiously…

Nothing stays the same.

Observe our changes…

It reminds me cheerfully…

All I want to do is live.

Rape

America was a virgin

And then capitalism fucked it

And it became a whore.

You’re the designer of your own chaos,

Yes, it is prettily set up,

Yet you’re still the actor,

You reach and pull,

Touch and take advantage,

Disrupt and misqualify,

All for your own impression of

Good.

So live your life,

Every one and body,

Individually soaking it in separately,

Blindly, hiddenly, forbiddingly.

But fate is here with the truth,

You, and I,

Are tools,

In a worthless, self-appreciating cause,

A smack in the face,

A complete failure of the vain at hand.

This is the way, they say,

That will get me shot,

But I figure you’ve already killed me in too many other ways.

Beauty is the Essence of the Word

Beauty is the question you asked your lover in jest, knowing it would call shock from that person and, in turn, make them blush. Beauty is the feeling of stepping outside the apartment in the morning , and feeling the warmth of the sun, knowing that same warmth is part of the energy that makes everything be. Beauty is nature, all it brings out in you (the individual), and all it brings out in your spirit. Beauty is your spirit, the beautiful image of reality, redefined, and put into the flesh, your flesh, for a life for you to look at subjectively, and choose for yourself. Beauty is the definition of any instant that we know of through science, whatever makes whatever a fact, a scientific description of what we hold dear, the physics of things, if you will…

Beauty is the imagination of our beings, imaginations create, dreamers adhere to the call. In the end we are all dreamers, dreaming a reality of ourselves with meaning to it. Everyday life is meaning, and beauty creates every bit of it…

Just like you create meaning for me.

Capitalism

(for jim c)

money…

my enemy in this world, my nemesis.

This is the idea in this world that everyone is addicted to;

Money.

Money does not possess me, because I have no urge to control people,

I have no urge for power.

I consider myself an artist,

And my art is all that I need in this world.

I do not create my art for money;

I create art for life.

Life is all that any of us truly need,

And life is what so few of us truly possess.

Money is an instrument of control, wielded by the powers that be…

The POWERS that be.

We will never be a civilized planet,

Together,

United,

Whilst this silly idea of money perceives.

I call it an idea because there is no standard;

There is no backing to this faulted truth.

Unfortunately, we just accept the control.

A question:

If an alien race were ever to contact us,

Could anyone actually,

Truly believe,

That this race would have any way of understanding the idea of money?

(unless they were slave traders of course)

I think not.

We are the Human species,

And money separates every single one of us from one another.

I believe in the mind,

And my mind laughs at this childish idea of money.

Money traps us in the physical,

Where I laugh alone.

10/19/2002

Faith in Intensity

A punitive contradiction,

A burrowed conscience-ness,

Stained reflex and guilty tidings

Displease and ill-frequent,

Shunning madness by a portion of a thought,

A mere fraction of an idea.

Intensity;

Adversary of boredom,

My faithful friend,

Hear my pitiful cry,

My faithful scream.

I evoke thee,

Withstanding,

With trusting soul,

Without ego…

Engulf me?

My will is yours.

Damned Festering Curiosity

A festering curiosity… not a broken soul,

Her crush deludes me, eyes destined to look and blend.

Fevered penance – Organized trip

Plummeting into an alley of dreams and haunted scapes.

Whose darkened reflection illicits punitive freedom at such an awesome price,

Delinquently, Aged, and Intending?

I stare with contempt, condemningly, intently, and the rage envelopes accordingly,

Lucidity drains,

And the light discontinues…

Upstairs the shade skims and darts, tearing the vinyl,

Offing the current of fresh air called sanity with a polluted cause and befouled effect…

Such a festering curiosity.

A Certain Sort of Freedom

I know that I could not ever possibly

Be satisfied in this lifetime.

Yet I am pretty sure that I have a lot of

Time left to do a lot of good.

I know that the evil is everywhere and

I know it affects me,

But the good keeps it real,

I want to fight because I know that I am right,

No drama, just truth,

It touches me,

It changed me

For the best.

Now I am what I always wanted to be…

Real.

My mind is sharp yet the paths

It weaves are extremely hooked,

Positively sliced,

Pulling for a full circle,

Pulling for a certain justice,

Tugging for a certain sort of freedom…

7/6/4

Circus of Fleas

I have filthy hands and nails from digging through out the shit of existence.

My fault and problem,

My disorder,

My ever-searching mind.

The truth is out, yet know one cares.

The truth is out, but the leash of control keeps laughing,

Knowing I see through it, and who it is.

Knowing my circles and screams mean nothing to a world of fools.

And so I no longer worry about the Dog,

I just wonder about its’ fleas.

7/2002

Endless Endings

The endings around here never really end;

The just go on defensively,

Stupidly,

Always supporting themselves and their mundane interest.

They think they are crafty when really,

They are shadows of their own unwillingness to see truer colors,

Or any other aspect other than their own.

Sometimes they are young, sometimes they are aged,

Always they are impossible and belligerent,

Senseless beings languishing in their own pride…

These,

Are the Masses,

And the narrative, seemingly continues.

Curious Candor

A golden light!

The young dawn whispers befittingly.

Long meandering rays of light,

An eternal glow,

Almost fictitious to my senses.

What beauty is this? What trivial fruits?

What curious candor…

I frequent these conceptions relentlessly,

Endlessly…

Into the hallow void I dream the light to fill.

To take the edge of this mental scythe,

This rusted sickle.

I implore this glowing muse of dawn.

Of my dawn…

You have a name that sings

And the gentle smile of the mild midmorning dew.

I dream unceasingly, to love incessantly,

Uninterruptedly.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Momentum

Underneath skin once tortured,

A light footed arousal

Whispers frothingly into

An essence of twice-hidden joy.

Splendor.

Your touch stained me entirely,

I feel it still,

A glowing sensation,

Warm and precious,

Pressing my soul into a fit of orchestrated illustration;

Finally, a point.

What possibilities stew and banter

In this new spring of vision?

Always forth coming is the spiral,

And intent likens situation

More favorable when momentum is positive.

October 2004

Perfect Wonder

Wounded is the trance…

The predictability zigged, instead of wanderingly zagging.

A reformulation of the mystery,

Making once again, the unknown that lurking shadow further down the hall.

I urge for the exit.

Thoughts mix and reflect like a hand me down,

Festering the blankness of innocence,

Or perhaps the lack thereof?

To know me is to wonder,

To wonder is to perfect.

Not Distracted

Point.

I lost the way of humanity through reason.

I’m still breathing,

I think that I’m still alive,

But it’s hard to tell in the distraction

Of hundreds of thousands of you's,

All them their own individual strain of chaos,

Explosively depreciating our species

In the name of its own disintegrating presence.

I’ll fade like the

Dawn and sunset,

Yet these questions will always be asked,

In many fashions of the way.

Why?

Truth.

Why?

Well, If I wanted my own disillusion,

I would have been a heroine addict,

But the here and now of the presence that is me

Said you are a fake.

You can not distract me you fucker of humanity,

I am immune from your concentrated conception of ignorance.

Counterpoint.

Pyscho

Psycho

And so you thought I was psycho.

Was it the depth of my eyes?

My quiet demeanor?

My disgustapated sighs?

Or the fact that I don’t smile

Except when it is true?

Smile completely,

Like when I am looking at you?

Fact is I don’t know

And it kills me to reflect

Because I have to be me

I wouldn’t change or recheck,

The way I was towards you,

I just gave you my heart,

Truth is I love you more,

Though you made choice to depart.

So I’ll go on without you,

In sadness and in truth,

Because no words can explain,

This love that needs proof.

I’ll always be here for you,

Though I doubt that you’ll call,

Perhaps I’m just psycho,

Such conclusions I draw.

Something they call Time

Departure;

A melancholy, cumbersome deal.

I look around,

I feel your closeness,

I will never leave it.

Return is eminent, love foretells it.

Time now ticks for me.

Truth Seeker Star

TruthSeekerStar

Whether the answer simple or no, the question must still be put forth.

I danced with the trickiest of questions,

The unmentionable,

Floating for years in a meta-physical madness,

Searching for answers that were always there in my heart,

Always right there on the surface of our shimmering souls.

As you drifted into womanhood, and I floated away,

It seems I lost your trust, and your heart just the same.

I paid no attention and lost you in the tunnel.

I won’t say that you quit waiting, you went on living like you could only do.

So now I’ve slowed down my masochistic ways

And taken a foreign step outside the spiral.

I see you through the distance, still ghostly, still delicious,

Yet so grown.

My only question is, are you now the mentor?

Or where you always the mentor?

1*6*9

The Strangers Hand

With fluid-like friendliness,

The stranger held her small,

Luminescent hand to Chance;

Her immortal mentor.

With Chaos spitefully at her back,

And Enlightenment few categories away,

She ponders past battles,

And the worth of it all.

Chance speaks to her randomly

And with ease,

Riddling gently and pushing her away.

Awareness brightens eyes,

And calls to her confidant,

Hope, her ally through integrity.

Together, the road re-awakens,

Calling forth,

Patient and wise.

A satchel of candles for light,

The journey then resumes…

Whimpering Femme

The narrative continues frothingly, etching mad

Media with plausible sovereignty. As the world

Marches defunct, a benumbed orphan cries

Unnoticed. She is the hope of the intended,

Fathered by intellect, nurtured by wisdom,

Abandoned by time, whimpering, alone. With

Tears of my own glimmering, impelling their own

Course, I saunter to her cry, bringing her to my being…

Day called Today

A Day called Today

Reaching through my anger to possess a certain sight,

Engulfed, entrapped, entertained through millions of seconds of thousands of days,

All for a paycheck and a fist full of disappointment.

Constantly tired and on the verge of tears,

Separated from this multitude of senseless beings,

Forever destroying themselves, for always knowing all.

Innocence is ignorance.

Truth is Energy.

I am a wrist, cut with a blade, gushing all my blood,

Losing all my life,

To all of you.

No one could keep up, being all too busy running circles around certain nothings.

Now we are lost and the mermaid decided to no longer care.

Such, is my pain.

Finished

Like a space monkey you

Threw yourself at me,

Hampering to my every whim…

Now you want to threaten me with anger

And a suffocation that no longer even ghosts my radar.

I know the last thing that I should do is laugh,

But I can’t imagine any other way to react

In this state of mind.

It is my fault, of course.

I should have left you the little sister

You had always been to me.

You do need a big brother,

And I don’t need the drama,

It’s hard to even think about this for lack of worth,

And so I am finished with it,

And you.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Decisively Defaced

I sit here

Thinking, wondering, knowing, realizing, hoping

To what ends?

I know the means…

I frequent the illusion

I inhale the pollution

I regurgitate the truth

From the lies I’ve been told

Not old, not young

But from my mind had sprung

A leak of values, of need

Not want, not greed

I’m impossible and vain

But modest and blue

Who knew? Who’d of known?

You? Nah, you’re just a clone

I’m a little bit of nothing

In everybody’s something

I think… therefore I am tortured

And that is gospel and grace

Deep within, far inside

It’s my soul that’s been defaced.

By you…

Ancient Evil

Underneath my own skin,

And then under yours,

But enough about me,

Let’s talk about you,

Or how about them?

They.

Those who choose to control,

Let’s talk about them.

Ancient evil.

Modern distraction.

Emphasis on the self,

As the destruction of the soul carries un-dramatically on.

Worrier

Did you get my package?

I left it on your doorstep last night,

It was dark and your neighborhood was sound,

Silent,

A most stealthful of organisms,

So I left it there unguarded.

Unstealable as it was, I had no worries.

Yet I couldn’t sleep last night because of worries,

Not for the package,

But that you might take this gesture in the wrong sort of way.

I laid awake,

Visualizing all the horrible things that could befall us

If the package was in any way distorted.

You know that I trust you with all of my heart,

Yet you also know that I am a worrier.

Rimlets

Rings and windows.

Rimlets.

Shadows of a trees’ shade.

Wondrous.

Wandering tranquility.

Unforgiven is the masked crusade.

Enlightened.

Aye.

Enlisted.

No.

Scoping the entourage.

Eloping the possibility.

I fashion fascination into joy,

Loose fitting and ominous.

Withstanding soiled ranks…

‘98

The Fight

This agonizing walk towards sleep…

I don’t want it but it seems that it is needed,

The future requires my effort

And I am such a fake;

Bedding with familiar malts and hops gets me by.

What do you do to get by?

That’s right… you don’t see.

So, I guess it’s quite easy for you to sleep

(as I fight it)

I die so gently, yet you are all in view.

Whispers of Reaching

Whispers… across the distance.

A gentle gust of forgiveness…

The sweet scent of lilac reaching majestically from her essence…

Punitive are my thoughts, agony, a frequent reminder of our time.

Our moment of shining light…

Tears reel and roll ominously through my conscience-ness.

I regret and lament, beckoned by this shade of intimacy.

My deliberations are familiar,

I pretend confidence,

I act experienced,

Yet I am merely the shadow of the masters…

4/25/2000

Simply Sensual

Something simply sensual.

You paste the pain unknowingly to my shoulders.

I scream gently.

An elixir drains.

A thousand faulty thoughts flash thoroughly through my mind.

Orgasms burn and as wet droppings splash significantly about,

To and fro.

Come.

Everlasting sleep beckons.

Sit and Think

I sit and think about freedom,

I sit and think about you,

I sit and think about everything,

While I’m sitting,

Waiting for you.

Instantly I lost my heart to you,

So many years ago,

Like a set of keys hiding elusively from

Common normalicies.

I knew it was gone but I found

I had a little piece of your mind in return,

Returning my thoughts to the questions.

The questions drove me mad but the answers

Made me calm and always I craved your heart.

I had it once,

Long ago,

When I gave you mine.

I remember the completeness and thought I could

Find it anywhere.

The ignorant fool that I was…

The years since,

I’ve discovered unexplainable wonders of the mind,

Wonders only years can inflict on most.

I am the exception to most and you’re the exception to me.

How I long for you,

Your touch,

Your voice in my ear,

Telling me everything’s going to be alright.

I long for your insight and direction,

Your breath on my neck,

Your teeth on my skin,

Your eyes staring knowingly into mine own.

My inspirational muse,

My love,

You are my reality in this sad existence.

You’re my color through the grey.

You give meaning to that word,

That tattered phrase;

I love you.

And so,

My love,

Love you I do.

9/23/2002

Such a Pitiful Existence

Openly littered…tempting…the signing never stops and the personalities escalate to

True-dom, if such a world would truly exist.

I appear insulting to a crowd induced by kings and mortal icons.

Skipping love for influence,

Influence for memories,

Memory for indulgence and lost time.

All lost yearnings not yet exposed to our inexperience,

Yet at the same time I feel a certain inaccuracy.

I am alone in my insolence.

I will never escape this pitiful existence,

Yet I am sure…

The narrative will continue.

05/2000

Rotted and Beckoned

Efficiently stranded between

Intolerable headaches

And knowing nothing at all!

I pain like a tooth once

Rotted and beckoned to decay.

Damn, that smile hurts.

Right behind the eye and above the toe I ache.

Why?

‘99

Sunday, November 6, 2011

An Illustrated Hand

The illustrated hand,

Forever holding me back with faltered reason and horrid speculation.

They’ve been slipping lies into my existence

For centuries, gripping the neck of common sense and truth

And twisting so the air is slow and wanton,

Entrapped and hidden in their book of lies.

The illustrated hand has you more than I,

It depends on the simple minded greed of the masses,

And you are the masses,

Too engulfed in yourselves to imagine,

Let alone worry or care about the truth.

How controlled you are,

And how blind to that controlling hand…

Do not worry, I know that you do not care…

I seriously doubt that you even know how to truly care.

9/23/2

Oxidation

Who now what then

Is this paradoxical universe?

I always used to ask when it would come

And now it’s come

Unmerciful and proud,

Corruption like oxidation,

Devouring all in sight,

Alleviating the puzzle like

A sixteenth century plague,

Releasing the solid to a

Crusty, rusty, crunch.

Now there is only soul to see.

The pain is suffocating and then

The pain is dull like an unwanted,

Yet soulfully begotten child,

And then it turned into something else,

Whole, like the fore mentioned puzzle,

Coarse, like the course of the day and

Night, and the endless circle

Of this precipitation of life,

A lurid willfulness, endless hope

And a satisfaction always millimeters

Out of reach, no matter how one grows…

Spiteful? No.

Running out of things to look forward to?

Perhaps.

Physicality

I’ve all but forgotten about the physical.

It is after all such a weak gesture,

Comparatively speaking,

With the mental.

Such a sorry squall…

Drama only exist in the physical,

And so the uselessness of physicality,

Sixth senseless-ness.

Squandered being, no hope of the goal,

No sense of progress,

Only endless circles.

I will not end in death.

I’ll only leave this being, this vessel,

This derogatory piece of flesh and bone.

Who besides me has put their self last,

And then looked around?

A thoughtful few for sure.

I know the answer, I recognize the symptoms,

And I’ve thought about the cure,

Be pure,

Execute your inhibitions,

Exceed what you are told you are.

Happiness in slavery?

Outside your fears is bravery.

Why not take that step? Why not feel my prose?

Who knows?

Perhaps you could be one who goes outside the norm,

Ride beside the torn,

Remnants of physicality,

No normality,

Beyond formality…

Who knows?

10/17/02

Prophecy

A Prophecy

The Tristan’s utter allusion to the foam

Art of the parented scope of

Thanks and lack less bewilderment

Improved nothing to a soiled ranks

Of a unilateral masochism.

We stood up

And walked away from the

Rusted Idea and discovered a new version of

Flight, heartfelt and enchanting excuse from the non-prolithic,

And teetering away from the marked dissatisfaction with the ideal.

9/19/2000

Never Was

I’m so low,

But I don’t wish that I was dead

I wish everyone around me

Open their eyes instead.

The forest of lies was opaque with clouds, shutting out

The light from their innocent thoughts and blind eyes.

Never was a promise, yet he couldn’t turn his attention

From the chaos. He tried to not see the misery, but

His unlidded minds’ eye felt instead of seeing and he knew

His doom. He thought of Kassandra with a cynical laugh

And continued on his way, witnessing the travesty,

Inheriting the natural selection, tearing at his self

To stay on the path, pushing the hate away with an

Experienced ease. The pain was dull now, he’d been

Walking for as long as he could recall. He knew he’d

Left his staff, somewhere along the line, with his

Materialism, he knew that he had been alone since

That point. He also knew that at some point,

The ever engulfing idea had occurred to him.

Rashes

With all the other shit I have going on in my mind,

I need a rash like I need a fucking hole in my head.

Tehehe

Not that I really care, but it itches, and is over all,

Well,

Annoying.

Itch. Itch. Itch.

Smash!

Destroy-Breathe-Rebuild-Resurrect-Annoint-Detest-Love-Honour-Dismantle-Die and Recycle!

Opps… all apologies, minor vent session, that’s all.

Accountable, acceptable, attributes return with awesome authority and awe-struck normalcy.

1998

Unfoiled Carnal Existence

A million blurred eyes run rampant,

Agnostically, intentionally.

Forceful habit, hungry attire scorching the hair,

Disfiguring the calm…

I am the flatulence;

I am defiled, the bitter seed,

The sand-friction of fortune.

I am the nail screech of withdrawal,

Always harboring, harrowed, distained and despised.

I am the enemy of the state, and I will never cease to reveal the spite of your norm, of your non-persistence.

A million eyes blurred from crying…

The nothingness of their lives deter us not in our sorrow.

For I see and the sight is unfoiled, carnal existence.

4/27/2000

Together We are One

The door finally opened, I had waited so long to see her in such utter brilliance. She, so indifferent to the sorrows of my day. As the light finally clears my eyes of mortal disguise, my sorrows fade and scruple. Lost in the purity of this eternal moment, she beckons, and I respond lightly, pensively, taking her small, luminescent hand, feeling the gentle throb of her life flow. We turn in unison, following the fragrant and docile flux of a breeze. Her strides are as long as mine, we walk together, side by side, as one, fondling this twinkling of time. I walk blind, with complete faith in this angelic being. We stroll amiably through these surroundings, not talking, just keeping pace. With her medieval garbs, she glows eerily in the gown of the whitest silk. She glows sweetly, treading with me in my usual black;

My mourning attire.

Together we walk,

Together we are one.

Worthwhile

I wasn’t born to be down but that’s the way that it always seemed to be.

I saw too much detail, and with no real obsession to apply that detail to,

I just lived, secretly (beyond my own control) soaking it all in.

I never lived for time, I just lived, ever hungry, growing ever more debunked,

Inwardly rambunctious, yet listless.

Endless listlessness.

So much precious time wasted for a certain sense of freedom,

Yet never the true Madonna.

Then six thousand, four hundred and eighty-four days after the agonizing start the question was answered,

And who could have possibly imagined the multitudes of new,

Yet unanswered questions would be fathomed in the realization?

Where I stand in thought has all been thought before,

Yet pride flourishes in the personal accomplishment,

Seems that the pain was not all for none after all.

Trickery

Everything falls apart,

And it was built to be so,

Yet the spirit can never be destroyed,

Tricked maybe, for that is the course of the day,

But we breed like rats,

So I’m guessing that you can’t trick us all,

And though you hope and pray,

We won’t all go to jail,

So your system of perfection is for always in jeopardy.

Capitalism of all things…

Though I do admit, y’all sure did take the ball and run with it,

Yet I can’t see you making it to the fifty,

And watch out for that red zone defense if you do,

For its quite the bitch.

You need heart for the title,

Greed alone won’t do it.

We have the heart to stop you,

And we’re chameleons.

You can’t see me yet I’ve known you before you were born,

And I know you are older to the flesh,

And I know that you think you know…

But the truth never seeped in to your bones,

Causing your heart to be one of stone,

And stones can be broken.