A Trojan Horse of Insecurities
My reality fractures in a moment, its tiers tear asunder.
Becoming an intricate web of shards, waiting for skin to prick and rend.
A window to the world becomes a mirror to my loneliness.
I stare into the flickering of memories captured over years and hope,
hope theyre memories shared and not forgotten in this moment.
Time in writing and recording spent, spent like years at some frivolity.
Forgotten have I how to be alone with my thoughts,
how to silently find peace in a moment and imagine peacefulness.
Distracted instead by fear mongering, by complaints, by sorrow,
by statements of negativity, constantly dragging hope from its nest.
My reality heals in a moment, its tears and cracks the story I have written.
An intricate web of love and sorrow waiting for skin to feel.
No glass between myself and the world, no mirror to reverse reality.
A gift it was once, a prison for me it became.
A Trojan Horse of Insecurities
My reality fractures in a moment, its tiers tear asunder.
Becoming an intricate web of shards, waiting for skin to prick and rend.
A window to the world becomes a mirror to my loneliness.
I stare into the flickering of memories captured over years and hope,
hope theyre memories shared and not forgotten in this moment.
Time in writing and recording spent, spent like years at some frivolity.
Forgotten have I how to be alone with my thoughts,
how to silently find peace in a moment and imagine peacefulness.
Distracted instead by fear mongering, by complaints, by sorrow,
by statements of negativity, constantly dragging hope from its nest.
My reality heals in a moment, its tears and cracks the story I have written.
An intricate web of love and sorrow waiting for skin to feel.
No glass between myself and the world, no mirror to reverse reality.
A gift it was once, a prison for me it became.
Glacial beauty.
I lap at her feet deeply enamoured by her grandeur,
alpine pools, her eyes I long to envelop,
the trickle of her gaze clear and refreshing.
While I churn in longing she is there,
stretching down from the heavens, silent.
I would that a mist should come between us,
so that she might be hidden from my gaze.
But there through the tendrils of curling vapour,
a glimpse of her glacial beauty captivates me.
Longing becomes a miasma thick and opaque,
no longer can I subsist on memory wholly.
The wind blows through and once again,
her splendour I see by the waxing moon.
She whistles a sombre tune of longing,
and my waters clap in appreciation.
Checkmate
A voice echoed over the sound of water drops falling on the wet cave floor, two figures sat hunched over a large orb which levitated inches above the ground;
"I have you now."
"I don't see it... Where?"
"MTV, Disney all of it. Its bringing them back to me."
"But they stand on the brink of revolt, It could still turn around."
"They wont."
"Most of them are still mine..."
"But they do my works. You should end it now, go on resign."
"I will not bow to you."
"Then you would continue with this? You would watch while they ruin all of this place they were given? Because they will."
"There is still a chance they might turn it around and fix things."
"When, I ask you have you ever witnessed sheep attack a wolf?"
"I would compare many among them to sheepdogs my left handed friend."
"A sheepdog is no match for a pack of hungry wolves. There are too few and fear has taken them already, they will not bring about change. At least not in time to save themselves."
"Rock music may have worked in your favor for a while, but they shall return to the light."
A flash upon the orb illuminated the chamber, another followed and more after that soon the faces of the figures were visible. One bore gnarled horns curling from above his temples while the other had snowy white hair and a massive beard full of ringlets.
The two deities stood up and shook hands, the beast with the horns grinning from ear to ear.
"I win again old friend, what say you buy me that beer?"
"Go again!"
"God man, I just don't have the patience for another round."
"Its ok, we'll just play with the survivors."
"Remember the flood, that was the same fucking thing; 'Go again' you said, 'Theyll listen to Jesus you said, The Beatles wont be popular you said. God, just give up."
"Go to Hell!"
"Alright, Ill be hanging 10 with that new wave machine I had installed in the lake of fire. Pretty sure the Stones are playing later if you're interested?"
"You're a bastard, you know I hate that shit. Anyway whens the last time you were in Heaven?"
"I didnt want to say anything but Jesus, your son! Hes such a weirdo..."
"Yeah I know, I probably shouldn't have sent him down there."
"Oh well its over now."
"Whens next game?"
"Some time between now and forever."
"See you then."
The two figures walked their separate ways, meanwhile the inhabitants of the orb died out. They had developed so far that the petty games of the gods had lost its significance, yet greed was their downfall. And so, the Devil once again walks away victorious.
Appropriation II
Stream of unconsciousness...
Wear what makes you feel good. If its beautiful then it is beautiful on whomever wears it. Its not mine or yours. Because I wear a feather headdress or you wear a kilt does not mean we are abusing or stealing from a people. It means we are regailing ourselves in what feels good, or what feels right at that time.
What it does mean is that there is a very cold or very dead bird somewhere. That bird is who we should be thinking about.
I think that unless you can prove beyond reasonable doubt that someone is mocking or debasing a culture then the use of any regalia is in fact part of our universal culture.
If a woman or anyone wishes to dress for some reason in the costume of a scots-guard or A norman knight and my reaction was to go around whinging on the internet or in any social medium what would be the reaction of society?
Not only are we past gender defining and restricting in this globalized society (and the blazing community especially) but the plains people of north america rewarded these headdresses for acts of murder(warfare), feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. If you are claiming that only people who have committed acts of murder in tribal conflict within the united states can wear these headdresses then I guess we should burn them all and not make any more until the US fractures back into regional strife?
(which may be soon enough)
They can be worn as a thing of beauty and those who take exception should learn how to see them in this light for their own mental well-being. As a thing of cultural identity they may be also, not only.
Which individual can claim the rights to an image or object that they didn't create or contribute to its creation?
The reason for the restrictive reproduction of symbols and medals of military or any other present day organisation is to make it more difficult for people to pose as members or decorated members of such organisations for personal gain. Note I say more difficult because it still happens.
If anyone is confused as to the military decoration of a person wearing a "native american headdress" then they are either confused as to what century they are in or have seen far too many movies and need to drink some water.
This whole dialogue is pointless to my mind. Addressing a whinge is a waste of society's time as a whole. How about we address something that matters instead?
How about we look into the issues of alcoholism, unemployment, murder, rape, imprisonment, REAL racism, education, addiction, immigration, poverty, malnutrition, obesity, smoking, mercury poisoning, ocean acidity, garbage disposal, recycling, renewable energy, pollution, terrorism, mass shootings, gun rights et fucking cetera ad fucking nauseum of the peoples that make up our whole globe.
This "issue" if it is someones personal crusade is pathetic. I wish people didn't give in to their white guilt so readily and realize that the weight of history is not ours to bear. Lets make a better world where we celebrate all the cultural history that makes up this world and stop bickering and moping because we don't feel good. Feelings don't matter, you are just another one of the more than seven billion people struggling to breathe on this little rock. Go scream into the wind and howl out your demons, come back when you can help us.
The news got to me
We live in an era of emptiness.
What is our collective objective?
We're being killed by indulgence and indolence.
There is no real space race, no real war.
Wild dogs lash out at sheep,
It was thought no wolves existed so we stopped feeding him.
Can you blame him for his instinct?
Is it Islam today and anarchy tomorrow?
Tell me so I can write it in my calendar.
Want it raw and writhing
Want for Nirvana,
Bowie, Reed, Cohen,
The Stones, The Beatles,
Stooges, Faithful, Joplin, Simone.
Music should howl and thrash,
A cathartic cleansing of chaos.
The tortured rescuing the tormented,
martyrs to indulgence; foaming at the mouth, sparagmos on stage.
Produced poster youth pushing pornographic pestilence is all I see and hear now. Not art, no heart.