I’ve got hair growing outta my fingers

It gets so long it hangs

I gave my fingers a haircut

I gave my fingers bangs

My girlfriend really likes it

She likes my fingerbangs

My girlfriend drinks apple cider

Drinks it all the time

She loves that apple cider

With a twist of lime

She loves cider and my finger bangs

Fingerbangs n’ cider

She loves cider and fingerbangs

fingerbangs n’ cider

My girlfriend eats pork butt

But not the lower piece

She only likes the upper part

She says it has less grease

She loves upper pork butt

And fingerbangs n’cider

Loves fingerbangs n’ cider and upper butt

I don’t think God exists.

At least not one who sits on a throne beyond the clouds

while people reach out from the ground

their fingertips never even coming close.

Not one who commands you to your knees

who calls for you to be meek and small

when there is so much Divinity in Dancing in the Dirt

In swimming naked in the moonlight

In grass stains on your back.

Control is the opposite of holiness

because Freedom is the nature of the world

growing vines

flowing tides

a single leaf carried on the wind

I will not submit to a god

who demands you live in a prison of your own making

My God isn’t just on the ground

She is the Ground

where I can firmly plant my feet

upon which I can run

to all that I love

unafraid and unchained

because Soul is the only thing that matters.

Atesh dropped to his knees in a shudder.

He could not believe his eyes.

The Shadow Man opened his jaws and laughed.

‘‘Well, well, well. How grand to see you bending down on your knees before me.’’

How did he get end up back in Nightmare lane.

The last thing he remembered was being near the edge of a forest and a lake.

Then something, or someone, had knocked him in the back of his head.

He tried to toss a fireball from his mouth at the Shadow Man.

The Shadow Man wagged his finger back and forth.

‘‘Something tells me that will not work this time.’’

In the corner of the room, he felt another presence.

He shook from the sudden drop in the temperature.

‘‘Oh— Atesh I have friends from many places- and when one heard about you~ she was dying to take your breath away.’’

He could not see her, all he saw were a pair of azure eyes twinkling from the shadows.

The Shadow Man leaned down & pulled Atesh’s heart out of his chest, ‘‘What a powerful fiery heart.’’ With one gulp, it was lost in the Shadow Man’ belly.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=VAN2_S0Y5l0

#AZURE © 06.11.2020

So, a brief “today-in-history post,” if you will. Marie Antoinette (1755-1793) was executed today, October 16, in 1793. Her execution followed the execution of King Louis XVI, a few months earlier. I know that historians are supposed to be unbiased, but I think it quite unfortunate that she was executed.

The French Revolutionaries, in my opinion, did have some just causes for staging a rebellion, but for the most part, it was all quite barbaric. The king and queen of France, in fact, had tried to sell much of the silverware from the Palace of Versailles to raise money for the poor and even donated, at one point, all of the flower from the royal pantries to the masses.

Marie Antoinette never, ever said “let them eat cake.” I do not know why that phrase has become circulated and attributed to her, but she never said it (it would be quite unfortunate for the thing that one is most known for saying to be something that they never even said).

Marie Antoinette was known as a gentle, well-mannered woman (she was pretty young when she was executed), and it was generally the failure of her advisors to inform her and her husband about the true state of affairs in France that was her downfall. In fact, she even maintained her mannerism on her execution day:

As she was giving her final monologue before the guillotine, she accidentally stepped on the executioner’s foot, so the words, “pardon me,” are formally included in the written recordings of her final speech.

In fact, now that I am on the topic, I should mention that one day, I probably will write a post on the French Revolution (which will likely be very, very long, as so much happened in that decade).

is free unless you fail and then I take your teeth so listen lad in 1776 america was born fuck philly’s bogus bell and bow to adam smith the wealth of nations’ invisible ineluctable hand that’s raised in benediction for the worthy and slapped you to that gutter you see my forefathers founded clapboard churches and god smiled and made it rain holy green so I earned mine fortune favors the faithful and the faithless writhe so I clasp these hallelujah hands and avoid the unclean which means I will not help or hit you my foot will do the work now grab your bootstraps boy and yank yourself respectable before I stamp your shame I’ll wear my cross and you’ll wear your caste in your shattered grimace dental care is for winners

The age-old question: “is water wet?” I have more or less observed that the conservative answer to this question is, “yes, water is most certainly wet.” The modernist view, on the other hand, appears to be, “no, water itself is not wet.” Well, though I am progressive in many things, I will admit, I am conservative in my clothing styles, verbiage, and, of course, my response to this dilemma. Hear this: while there is never a definite answer to anything, according to Pliny the Elder, I have taken my position with the “water is wet” side of the ring.

Of all the arguments and essays I have ever read claiming that water is not wet, I have never once seen them use scientific evidence, only reasoning (I am not affirming that there is no argument against water being wet that uses scientific evidence out there, but I have not seen one. If you now of one, please let me know in the comments, as I am very much interested in this debate). Still, however, the reasoning with which the argument against the wetness of water is made is, in most cases, strikingly well done. I will be using science to advance my argument, but first, I shall fight fire with fire, by using reasoning.

The papers that advance the notion of water not being wet claim that water makes other things wet, yes, but it itself is not wet. Water sticks to things, they say, but water itself is merely a collection of the liquid, and therefore, it is not itself wet. These essays, however, are written as if water is the only thing that can make things wet! Any liquid can make things wet, because every single substance known to humankind has a liquid form, from methane, to oxygen, to even a diamond.

Let me ask you this: is alum dry? It dries things, of course - It dries things very well. The proponents of the notion that water is not wet would likely claim that alum, thus, is not dry. But feel it: it’s a powder, a dry powder. Even if there were no water for it to absorb, it itself is dry. Is fire warm? A proponent that water is not wet would probably say: no, fire is not warm, it only makes things warm. My friends, fire is indeed warm. Is ice cold? Yes, it is. Water, my companions, is most probably wet.

Now, with the analogies completed, it is time to fight fire with water - the scientific approach. First off, allow me to begin with something that both myself and my opposing “water-is-not-wet” proponents will agree upon: water makes things wet. But how does water do this? It is quite simple, actually. Water is a covalent bond, meaning that electrons are shared. Two hydrogen atoms share electrons with an oxygen atom. However, the more elections a compound has, the more negative it is, and the fewer electrons, the more positive it is. All substances strive to react to form neutral charges. Hydrogen, in a water molecule, has fewer of the shared electrons, meaning that it has a partial-positive charge. Oxygen, on the other hand, has more of the shared electrons, meaning that it has a partial-negative charge.

The water molecule, thus, needs to become stable. The hydrogen atoms need to gain an electron from another substance, and the oxygen atom needs to lose an electron to another substance. Thus, water is polar, and so it is adhesive. The positive hydrogen atom of one water molecule binds covalently with the negative oxygen atom of another, neutralizing itself. Water sticks to itself, the same reasoning for which those who claim that water is not wet explain how water makes things wet.

Water is, according to simple science, adhesive to itself, and therefore, just as it is cohesive in that it can stick to other polar molecules (such as alcohol) and, interestingly, ionic substances (such as salt), water is wet. Water makes itself wet. Water, my friends, is undeniably wet.

Now, if we had merely one water molecule, with nothing else for it to bind to, would that be wet? Yes, because the fact that water can make other things wet should serve to prove that it has the ability to stick to itself, and therefore is wet.

Now, to eliminate any hard feelings against me from the proponents of the odd notion that water is not wet, we can agree, for sure, that it is certainly not dry, I hope.

#philosophy

#opinion

False intentions leak

through your

dazzling smiling teeth,

harboured envy

inner spite

stain your outer

pearly whites.

You may fool the others

with your “true” friend

pretendin’

but one of these days

I’ll come around

and kick those fake

grinning teeth in!

Stairs balk at talk -

they’ve seen too much -

life’s ups and downs,

babies’ frowns.

Knocked out teeth

beneath the heath.

Teenagers stealing

up the stairs

into their lairs,

they got their kicks

before parents caught

them in their tricks.

Dirty secrets

ground into stairs.

Teddy bears

falling down.

Scary clowns

waiting there,

stairs don’t care

they don’t talk,

holding up

all that weight,

tempting fate

of sorrows, cares,

sordid stares,

ragged socks

worn by jocks.

Stairs too slick

to talk at all.

But listen with care

you’ll hear the stair

whisper with flair

into cool night air

while broken teeth

lie battered there.

Likely a pretty common choice for a last meal. Decadent, dripping in butter, and not so exotic that it would be denied. The guard sets the plate down in front of me, sending splashes of oil in all directions. He rolls his eyes.

"Another one wants lobster, huh?" The guard sneers at me before sending a glob of spit in my direction. "Fuckin' boring."

I don't reply. I learned not to speak to these men early on, it only makes their sadism worse. Obviously I'm no saint, but these people... well I'm not sure I should even call them 'people,' they're monsters. At least I had a reason, even just a small one. These guys, they just get off on the violence. Their sick smiles when they reign down the make that clear enough. They're all in on it, too, judging by the cameras convienently switching off whenever they decide it's time for some torture. System's fucked, and I know it because they're so much worse than I could ever be, and I'm the one being put down.

"I'm going to enjoy pullin' that switch," the guard cackles at me while I take my first bites, "They say it's not supposed to be painful, but I can tell it is. I know bad it hurts when the volts fry your brain. I love it.

I can feel the shellfish passing down my throat as I scarf it down. I'm not even using the butter at this point, just trying to eat as much as I can.

"And I especially love turnin' down the voltage so it takes longer to kill you." His perverse giggle rises to a hearty, repugnant laugh. "There ain't nothin' you can do about it! You eat as much as you want. In the end, I'll still get to kill you."

As my last bite passes down my narrow throat, I look up to him. "Will you?"

His face scruntches in anger. Were the circumstances different, I'm sure I'd be in for a hell of a beating. Soon, though, I can see on his face that he understands what's happening. He rushes over just as my blood pressure drops and my body starts going into shock.

"You little shit, what the fuck are you doing? You're mine to kill!" He belows.

I lift my swollen face to him, opening my eyes as much as I can. When he gets close to try and save me, I spit directly in his hateful, beady eyes.

"Get fucked."

Dad was a religious cunt.

So much so he adapted scenes from the Bible. His favorite part was Jesus carrying the cross with the Romans and all of ’em lashing and whacking at his back. He decided I was the main lead. I never had a say in it. Day in, day out, his belt said its hellos and goodbyes whenever, wherever.

Actually never knew why that decrepit sad sack of shit was like that. Boring if I just said “Dad was a sadistic fuck”.

Could put all the blame on him. I mean, I did for a while. Blamed it on him on why I was here in the first place. But blaming never really helped. Never did anything.

Could say it was fate. But I never get why people believe in fate or destiny. You do that you have to take everything into account you know. You’re saying some men are just born to die infront of the people that love them, some men are just born to be stepping stones, some men born to carry great weight till they can’t, some men born to parents that hate because it was the only thing their parents knew.

Maybe.

Never was good with this philosophical stuff.

You keep going around in circles and circles and end up with a really shitty answer.

Looking back though, it wasn’t all bad. Wish I could say I regret everything I’ve done or I have a lot of shame and guilt, but that doesn’t really do anything good. Makes people feel bad for you or hate you, but I’m pretty sure I can do that on my own without anyone’s help.

To be honest, I feel alright. The fact that I know I’m gone after this meal. I mean hell, some people get it worse. Some have unfinished business, died before telling someone how they actually feel, died before being forgiven, or before seeing their sons or daughters graduate college. I’m one of the lucky ones, a cold beer in this hot dingy room with McDonald’s quarter pounder and some fries. Shit. There are worse ways to go.

I’m done man. I’ve said all I wanted to say. Did what I wanted to do. Took what I wanted to take. You guys on the other side think you’re winning but you lot of turbo retards just gave me the golden fucking ticket. What you think everything’ll be alright once I die? Like after I’m gone, people are going to be holding hands and singing songs? Some hippie koombaya shit with flowers and lavender being thrown around?

No fuckhead.

You ended my suffering. Their’s just started.

I won. You fucking lost.

There’s still going to be a hole in their hearts. Some cold hole that can never be filled. Everytime that dad walks by his daughter’s bedroom, there’s a fucking reminder. Everytime the mom goes to Hot Topic, there’s a fucking reminder. Everytime the brother listens to some fag song, there’s a fucking reminder. A date on the calendar. A fucking reminder.

They’re going to live out their entire lives with this weight.

The dad’s angry cause he couldn’t do shit. The mom’s crying in pain after her whole world was just taken away from her. And the brother's realizing life's not a fairytale.

So tell me, when you see those faces on the screen.

You still believe in fate?