Tuesday, 11 December 2007

Tuesday, 4 December 2007

THE PRICE OF COMPASSION

The rain breaks down on the roof,
squandering it's quota of happiness
Because the beautiful ones are always easier to forgive.
How often we peel cruelty off them like masks
Who is there to question the motivations of light?
Among clouds, a sculptor, but a thief through glass
Among shadows, a painter, but deceiver through water
In a roomful of appulse, I hear a single sound
The blood rushing up to my head, like sirens.

So hang up your motivational posters now
Because the sky is full of messages I can't decipher
I could have sworn cartoons used to be funnier when I was a kid
And that friend used to be closer to me
than my jugular vein
Now I can see him extracting himself
From the symbiotic equation of our lives
to fly amok in the wind
Like a catatonic vampire

A child reading his own obituary,
to a crowd of uninterested people
Petrified ants navigate marshes of sugary syrup
A beetle's unseen heart
pulsating darkly in dyslexic veins,
Books are still lying undiscovered in the tree trunks
Why do you look at other people's faces
on the morning train?
Is the scenery that arresting?
One house estate giving birth to another copy
The illusionary advertisements,
mocking you through a slogans promise,
Pristine white teeth,
permanently out of your reach

MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD

It's snowing out there
So my mum makes me wear warm cloths
Im all wrapped up now, ready to go
The chain unlocks,
the back door swings open
I see a whole new white world for me to explore
I step out to hear the sound of my little boot
indenting the soft snow

I take a few steps forward, smiling happily at my new freedom
When suddenly I see a small white ball flying straight towards me!
I move sideways and dodge the snowball.
I turn to see my 4 brothers and sisters smiling goofily at having missed me
I remember the look on their faces,
we were all quite young then
and did not know about our parents in the house.
We would spend hours chucking snowballs at each other
and having fun
Until
we
heard
two voices cutting each other inside the house.

We all stopped what we were doing
and looked through the window
The moment silenced all of us
The day was ruined
Christmas was over
Our innocent moments of bliss were taken away
By the evil things
that adults do to each other

HAND GRENADE ON A BUTTERFLES WINGS

LOOK AWAY SWEET CHILDREN OF THE DEVELOPED WORLD
THIS DOES NOT CONCERN YOU.
DONT LET IT AFFECT YOU, IT'S NOT REALLY HAPPENING
IT'S A FANTASY, LIKE LORD OF THE RINGS!
THESE THINGS ARE NOT REALLY HAPPENING,
800 MILLION PEOPLE ARE NOT STARVING
THE ADVERTS ARE JUST LYING TO YOU
WOMEN ARE NOT GANG-RAPED TO DEATH EVERY DAY,
THIS IS JUST A CONVENIENT FAIRYTALE!
WATCH 'HOLBY CITY' IT WILL TEACH YOU ABOUT REAL LIFE
WATCH EASTENDERS, IT WILL EDUCATE YOU ABOUT HOW TO DEAL WITH BAD RELATIONSHIPS

DON'T YOU LOVE DISTRACTIONS?
I DO!
I DISTRACT MYSELF 24 HOURS A DAY,
SO I DON'T HAVE TO THINK ABOUT MYSELF!
DUMP HIM IF HE DOESN'T BUY YOU A DIAMOND RING,
DIAMONDS ARE A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND (VOMIT SOUNDS)
THIS IS A PARTY, SMILE, DRINK CHAMPAGNE, ENJOY YOURSELF
DRINK MAKES THE BAD THOUGHTS GO BYE BYE
DON'T BE STUPID!
GLAXOSMITHKLINE DON'T REALLY PATENT DRUGS WITH THE
INTENTION OF BLOCKING DISTRIBUTION TO DEVELOPING COUNTRIES!
DO NOT WATCH THE NEWS!!!
IT WILL ONLY MAKE YOU FEEL CONFUSED
WAR-AS-ENTERTAINMENT
HOW TO PROTECT YOURSELF FROM GUILT
TUNE IN NOW, FOR THE RACE TO BAGDAD, NOW COVERED BY ALL MAJOR
MAINSTREAM TV STATIONS. VROOM VROOM…

CLOSE YOUR EYES
THIS DID NOT HAPPEN.
BE HAPPY, SMILE WITHOUT REGRETS
P IS FOR PLAYGROUND, NOT PALESTINE
C IS FOR CELEBRITIES, NOT CARPETBOMBING INNOCENT WOMEN AND CHILDREN!
DON'T THINK ABOUT BOSNIA OR RWANDA
JUST REMEMBER IT RHYMES WITH PANDA
READ 'THE SUN!
DAVID BECKHAM HAS GOT A NEW HAIRSTYLE, NEW-LATEST SHOTS OF KYLIE'S BEHIND.
STOP PRESS!!! THE QUEEN HAS HAD A NOSEBLEED...HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?
WHEN DID IT OCCUR? WHO WOULD DO THIS?
WE WILL TELL YOU EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW....
MMMM BIG BROTHER
MMMM BARGAIN HUNT
MMMM TRISHA
DONT SAY ANY LONG WORDS!!! SHHH!! YOU WILL MAKE EVERYONE DEPRESSED
DONT DISCUSS YOURSELVES, DISCUSS RINGTONES
WHEN AN OLD WOMAN DROPS HER BAGS, ALWAYS LOOK AT YOUR SHOELACES!
IT'S NOT YOUR PROBLEM!

POEM FOR REECE

Solemn like a scattered orthodontist
Left over from the night before
Sarin gas in brain attack
Lying lynching catacombs
Stop the worry
Go to North Carolina
Never leave home
Be still Jesus, the attacks will soon stop
Left over hope makes me cry fragmented tears
Leave the children alone, they don't deserve to be hurt
Why wont pain stop?
How much can someone hold?
Witches flying into McDonalds billboards
The blood is turned to ketchup

Let's all feed ourselves with poison
Don't worry, the cats are not envelopes
Seven catfish died on the shores with the cockle pickers
Why are Chinese lives ignored?
Why don't the Muslims care about Tibetans?

Jesus locked in a cage commands us to help him
We pretend not to see him
He offers advice on this road, I feel like washing his feet
Nobody cares for the sun that gives us no light
Calculate the irony in this room
Who makes sense?

THE WORLD ESCAPES ME

Some people, seek the feeling of alignment with others purely as a protective measure to protect themselves from feeling pathetic and outdated.
They don't mean immediate harm, but they are afraid of being alone and allign themselves with anyone willing to listen, and in the process get pulled down by their forceful stupidity.
The fear on my part is that are trying to stupidify me.
Look, don't use "We share a common ground" or "Were both the same, innit?"
NO!
Your attitude is a reflection of yourself, don't bring me into this.....
collectivism breeds sheep mentality, which ultimately brings about group idiocy.

So much fragmentation for what?
The world escapes me, for what?
To re-examine?
We fought so hard for the sunlight, and some people still think they are better?
Do they own oxygen? Can they understand the routine of the cosmos?
Did they patent it? Do they own the exclusive rights?
Have they the answers to why birth and death feel the same?
So what if you don't fit into my box?
Don't take my box away, at least.
They say fruit never falls far from the tree.
I disagree with the idea of growth.

PROSTITUTION AND FORCED RAPE

This may sound unbelievably harsh, but when you cut up the contents of your day, the fragments that make up your existence, you realize just how much power you hand over to your ‘superiors’ just to be accorded the right to live.

We are stuck in a cancerous system that is so internally diseased that we become severely fucked just trying to cope with life within it. A system so hideously flawed that evil is blatantly rewarded and aggression and lies are tools of the morons to suppress the imagination of the meek. We have been caught within it’s rules for so long, we feel that it is the only system that exists. This universe has been socially constructed, by the same rule, it can be de-constructed and re-constructed from the ashes.

The best satire of war news I have seen

I really love this song!

video

I like this song too!

video

Monday, 3 December 2007

THE THOUGHT OF THE MILLENIUM

THINK FROM YOUR OWN FUCKING MIND ASIM.
FUCK THE CRITICS THAT ARE TELLING YOU WHAT TO THINK.
THINK FOR YOURSELF AND YOU WILL BE FINE.
FUCK THEM ALL

TRUST YOUR OWN THOUGHTS, YOUR INITIAL INSTINCTIVE FEELINGS.
DON’T LET MOVIE REVIEWERS TELL YOU HOW YOU FELT DURING A PARTICUALR SCENE, OR ABOUT THE FILM YOU WATCHED.
DON’T LET YOUR HEAD BE CLOUDED BY THEIR RELATIVE OPINIONS.
YOU SAW THE MOVIE TOO, HOW DID IT MAKE YOU FEEL?
WHAT THOUGHTS SMACKED YOU OVER THE HEAD?

DON’T ME AFRAID TO SPEAK FROM YOUR OWN MIND
IT MAY BE LESS ADVANCED, BUT IT’S HONEST AND TRUE.
ASK YOURSELF.

MY MOTHER

In my dreams I raise enough money to save the planet
I give my mother everything she ever wanted in life
I help her to return to her past, when nobody hit her
so she can lay in honey coated dreams of becoming a flight attendant

I suck up all her fears and anxieties
I place a towel over her heart so she stops bleeding
I give her the space to talk to me about anything on her mind
I tell her her that I understand the sacrifices she made for me
Eye dream of my presence
I am the dragonfly sailing through the purple skies
on clouds of nectar and candy floss
Where raindrops tear through the skies and devastate rainforests
In a land of pain needles are so easily obtainable

TWO FINGERS

For every person that makes me feel guilty for trying to de-construct my own personality, I raise 2 fingers in their direction, in the declaration of my freedom and liberty to cleanse myself in any form I see as beneficial and necessary to me. I don’t believe people should spend less time deconstructing themselves, but more time. This statement may appear to be arrogant, but it’s not rooted in any kind of egotism at all. It’s rooted in the need to remove all the shit you’ve been filled with for 23 years. All those fake smiles, false advertisements, fictitious newspapers, distorted statements by people you revered as gods, all those modes of thinking transcribed from your parents, culture, religion, tradition that were wrong, all the advice by people who were simply directing themselves, all those school friends who were desperate for you to be fucked-up like them, all the rules that destroyed themselves, and all those horrible things your sister said to you, that went into your brain and destroyed all the insides. Suddenly there was a need to care about your face, about being rich and popular, being part of a movement, all lies and manipulations, to prevent an explosion of humanistic bliss and authenticity.

IDEOLOGICAL PURITY

I need a whole-scale re-education

I need a wholesale revolution

I refuse to be condemned to a side of A4 paper.

I wish to come closer to my essence and discover the intimacy of my existence.

To be Religious in it’s truest form.

I am sick and tired of seeing news reports that give equal time to death and cricket.

By the end, both things become consumable bite-sized chunks of nothingness.

We become the consumers of Death

War-as-entertainment

Poverty-as-Big brother

Reality as an abstraction understood through newspapers and ambigious accounts of distorted stories which rely on mountains of lies.

We need a hundred thousand emotional tanks to break into our subconscious.

To show us, what the news will not.

When will they come?

THEORETICAL IDEALISTS

I fucking hate coffee shop revolutionary armchair-blog warrior terrorist types who go on and on about how the capitalist machine is screwing us up the rear end all the time, then sit on the grass, bash some drums and get high, especially rich western marxist professors who've never been to the third world but act like they're the fucking authority on how the people "feel". They dont know Shit! along with those people who ask stupid questions like does Islam/Sikh/Hinduism (delete as appropriate) permit me to go Mountain horse riding after midnight with a mobile phone in my right pocket while singing a song by Prince!. Fucking hell think for yourself and use that thing called a brain that god gave you! Go fucking mix with people from other cultures before you dismiss them as rent-paying, moral-lacking, benefit-scrounging morons.

HOW I SEE THE WORLD

In no uncertain terms, I have always been at a loss to translate my thoughts to words. It’s like the thoughts appear in a sequence of images and patterns, and I am unable to even formulate a basic sentence structure to express how I am feeling. It’s true that I have always considered myself a hermit, a loner, an emotional fool and a psychopathic oddity. I am an oddity because I can’t help but have the lingering suspicion that I am not actually alive, and that I do not exist.

The best way to explain it, is to try and remember that feeling of incomprehension when you have just awoken from a dream. As you attempt to analyse your dream while it floats away from you. I feel like a lot of my life is spent in that mindset being totally baffled by not only my existence but the people who speak with an authority that indicates they have true conviction in their personal identities.

MAGICAL MERMAIDS...

On the day I was born, I had an out of foetus experience..
and as I watched the nurse pull me out of my embryonic bed of muscle and blood, I was struck by the semi-awakening, that my life was somehow not right.

I’ve wondered all this time, when will things be right?
when will I feel fully connected to something?
In my dreams I murder myself, but there are no witnesses to my crime
I scale the walls of the white house, smashing my head into the bricks
A helicopter has crashed into my subconscious
People do nothing with reference to something
What could be more beautiful than the sound of silence?
Interrupted by the screams of Unicorns?
Of course
I’m scared of disappointing my future

8 SIDES....

To the octopus of subjugation, your arms no longer reach me, here in my incubation nest.

To the pirate ship, intent on plundering my ideals, I am on an uncharted island now.

To the blood-soaked vampires, flying erratically overhead, I long outgrew the myth of garlic and crucifixes.

To the Investment bankers, seeking to profit from my blood, I am locked in a safe that has no dial or password mechanism, so take this unique opportunity to absolve yourselves from attachment.

AS LIFE....

As life creeps up on you, you stop thinking about what is right and switch to what is acceptable.

As life creeps ever nearer, you become a fraction of yourself in an attempt to be considered ‘normal’ and socially interact with the other sentient beings.

As life creeps up to you, you begin to accept this new entity that they have informed you, you are.

As life creeps closer, you begin to accept the system you live in, barely questioning all the gross inequalities and absurd things that would not make logical sense a few years ago.

As life creeps up, you desperately look to ways of existing in a faulty system, hereby perpetuating its problems with your reluctance to demand any change from it.

As life gets closer, you look to support from the people and structures you attached yourself to, but find that they have already moved into different directions without you.

As life creeps up, you are forced to believe those rules you wanted to live by, are childish fantasies that were always impossible. Forget those things, because this is the real world everybody says.

We can take the lesser option, bow our heads down and ‘get with the program’ or we can decide that those ideas we had as children were the purest truth, and everything sense has been a cruel twisted distortion of the truth for the purposes of profit, greed and power.

WORK DESK...

Seated at a work desk that I know will wither to dust in a few months, the actual precedence of the moment has taken on a strange form. Somehow knowing that this moment will one day be over makes me feel sad, like a dying friend is parting from my sight, and no amount of phone calls, text messages and post-it notes will ever bring it back. If I allow myself to be opened like a tin of sardines or a discarded fruit, perhaps I can learn to be open to my thoughts rather than having a fixation on my external presence. This body will turn to ashes, my brain will wither into nothingness and maybe this personal account of my yearnings will cease to exist, I hope it does not, I want to exist, I do exist.

One day, life will take me to another place where I will again be forced to start from scratch, building up new relationships, creating new thoughts, sequencing new memories, falling into environments where I will make new friends. When I sit down on a chair like a discarded leaf, frail and bony, a lifetime collection of memories in my cranium exaggerating their own experiences. Maybe Chopin’s Piano pieces make me feel like a child because they bring me closer to a time when I did not exist, and perhaps this is the ultimate blessing, to be killed and allowed to end this infernal game. The past is something that everyone knows existed and yet no-one can grab and hold for a second, it is given to everyone and yet no-one can ever have it to hold. I guess it’s like a riddle, and if you have no time then what is the point of everything else in life? You could be the wealthiest man on the face of the earth, but if you have no time (and it is relative to everyone) then your life will be over before it even starts.

THE POETS IMAGINATION

The death of a poet's imagination occurs when he begins to percieve himself a poet.
He stands in a vacant field with one thought in his head: They think I'm a poet..so...how do I keep up the illusion? and what the fuck does a poet do, exactly?

Look, we don't believe in falsehoods.
The moment of clarity carries waves of truths and oceans of pain.
There is nothing more that needs to be said.

HOW MANY OF US...

How many of us sit in that deep, dark inpenetrable forest?

Where the infomation is so difficult to interpret.

Where we dream broken dreams

and sing in chords scratched by circumstance

Emotional Experiments Volume 1

....and at the back of my mind I can feel it growing.How could I have been so foolish to believe that life could be lived via books and TV? To learn how to swim you have to dive into the water. There is no other way. Self-growth is directly connected with the degree of sincerity in which you pursue your passions.There are diverse possibilities, unlimited potential reserves and vast expanses of life to drown in.

When we fall into a routine, we become so comfortable in it, that we become allergic to change of any type. It's a black hole that only sucks us in further and further each day. Our parents were wrong to transpose their cultural propoganda on us, just as we were wrong to deny our god-given right to be individuals independent of supposed 'blood relations'.

I want to say this: Everyone on the planet has something about themselves that they wish they could change. Some people despise the shape of their nose, their lips, their hips, their shoulders, their cheeks ETC. We read so deeply into ourselves that we become obsessed with changing something that we see as 'negatively different' to what the rest of society dictates. Rather than revert to cosmetic surgery, why don't we accept that we have all been crafted by the almighty, and when we become hateful of our faces, we are kinda becoming hateful of the one who created us from nothing. What right do we have to demand a different face than that one which our creator gave to us?

We are owed nothing.

Who Is That?


The First post

So it began.
Just like that.
It was like a story.
I couldn't absorb any of it.
I failed to understand so much of it.
I could never quite connect the dots.
why do people do that?
Is it of their own accord, or society's influence?
A thousand questions all crashing into one another.