All That You Knew
All that you knew.... atomic theory
Natural Science.... Dialectics...
Meant nothing
Quantum Theory...Religion...
Viking History... Charlemagne..
Hannibal....French History...
Meant Nothing
American History...Great Art...
Lovecraft...Occultist Ways...
Meant Nothing
Metallurgy...Aquatic Science...
Life Science... Darwinism...
Meant Nothing
Physics... Monotremes...
Meant Nothing
All that you knew...of God
Meant Everything.
All That You Knew.
Of Human Bondage
Can you savor the ice cream base...
That gratifying pill...
That's been shot from some dark chamber
To now arrive upon your sill?...
It's not everyday you'll taste it's wonders...
One must pay tithing and alms...
Transform your body for the sake of trade!...
A thoughtless action without qualms!...
Do the Humanoid Shuffle,
And the Automaton Jig!...
In an incongruous tangle
Be the straight as arrow sprig
That arises without tell tale
Of the world's endemic flaws...
Your love extending like an olive branch
Without purpose...without cause...
Like the Count of Monte Cristo
One gets tarnished by the quest
In attempts to settle debts,
And even stabilize the books...
Don't let his deception drive you!...
While the rest bank on their looks
Make a bee-line for the counters,
And the mass production trays...
Don a safety mask, and goggles!...
You'll be occupied all day!...
Beat yourself raw like a square peg,
As the blood runs at top speeds
Down the walls of your gratuity
Into the gutters of the Beast...
Where sounds of gnashing teeth, and the
Suckling of marrow from heaved bones
Become a backdrop aura that is aped,
And normalized to fit your home!...
Do the Humanoid Shuffle,
And the Automaton Jig!...
In an incongruous tangle
Be the straight as arrow sprig
That arises without tell tale
Of the world's endemic flaws...
Your love extending like an olive branch
Without purpose...without cause...
10/16/24
Bunny Villaire
A Very Long Rant For Making People Angry
Dear god,
I wish you were real, but the dangers coming from your people contradict everything you stand for.
What of the crusades? Couldn't they have been stopped? Only one of them was won. Maybe that is how your disapproval has been shown. But still, most christians I know hate me. I used to be one of them. I hated people like me, all in the name of serving you. I just didn't realize what it meant to be different.
I remember my parents telling me nose piercings were a sin. They said that people should be satisfied with blending in. They said that we should want to disapear, to give our souls up to the lord. And that anyone who wanted to be unique could face the fiery river at the end of the world.
Now I am one of those people. I am a person who chooses not to blend in, who chooses to question your undeniable words written in tongues of old. I have chosen to question these things because no one deserves to burn for what they believe in. No one deserves to burn for who they are. No one deserves to have their life taken for a piercing or tattoo. Now that I'm older, I see just how rooted in prejudice and racism those ideas were. You said Jesus came down to give grace to all people, that no one was exempt. Well, I choose to exempt myself. I don't want to stand by those who draw a line in the sand, deciding who is good and who is evil. Nothing is that simple. But, neither do I want to forget the lessons I learned in church of gratitude and acceptance. Never mind, I do. Because when I wanted to tell the world how much my mom hurt me, my uncle came up to me and said, "This is not what Christ would want you to do. Just accept it. Just be grateful for what you have." I almost threw him off the roof. Did he think Christ would want me to sit and watch as my life was taken from me one freedom at a time. Would he want me to live in the shadows, never daring to escape because of the fear I lived in everyday? Do you want me, your own child, to suffer? Just so someone like my mom can continue unpunished.
I didn't used to think there was evil in this world. Now, I know there is. I wish I didn't, but I do. I wish you existed, but you don't. I wish there was some salvation, but there isn't. There is only me. There is only one person to help me out of a rut and that is me. I wish it wasn't that way, but it is. I stopped begging. I stopped asking for your help. It never came. I'm not Jobe. I give up.
I look at myself
In the shard of a mirror
Feel so sick of myself
Feel the end getting nearer
My love, you should hate me
I'm so sorry you don't
For all the times I made you happy
I've hurt you tenfold
My love, if only I could
Give you the rest of my time
You would have it all
It's better spent on you than I
Not the Meal
You saw me as I am: not the sweet loving wife, not the gentle, nurturing mother, but the real me, three-eyed, green-skinned, horned, eight foot two. Remember when the cat disappeared? She was yummy. Remember when our son was anemic? Three guesses why.
Now see me as you need to see me; you’d never survive the truth. But wait: you’ll never survive anyway. I have the recipe. You’re the protein.
But wait again: I see you as you are: not the sweet, loving husband, the gentle, nurturing father, but the real you, not the meal after all, but the cook!
The Wind In The World
He communed with the six hundred year old gum tree not knowing the time, only that it was dark, and it was late and the wind howled, sounding like an old woman grieving.
At the base he sat with his back against the bark, that shred itself off the trunk in weaving streams as they did in summer.
As all he could here was this wind and feel the tree, the strength of the tree, it was a singular thing, elemental, this is all there was.
If he concentrated and closed his eyes to the night, to the wind, the tree almost spoke to him in language never written or understood. Only in times when you opened your heart to the world.
He had lost his father and had gone looking for him down the bush track in this howling night.
Shouting out his name over and over until only the wind answered in it's baleful wail.
The feeling of no control eased within and nothing really mattered after all here, now, with the damn wind, and the dark, in this world, in this existence.
Below the sound of the wind screams filtered through the bush to him from the housing estate nearby, perhaps from others taken to the night in a final show of defiance.
Wild animals knew better than some that dwelled there, and it was better to listen to the wind, pretend there was no other sound at all.
No day, no town, no tomorrow. Night and tree, and this world.
He could have sat there for hours, and maybe did, until the cold got to him going past his flesh into his bones.
Get up he told himself, get up. So he did staggering slightly, and the moment had passed, with the tree, his old, old tree.
Turning he set off once again into that night into life, the moment lost, to be kept only inside, in the hidden places of the soul, out into the world.
“The wanderer I became”
Never left my home but yet been to many abodes that I became lost in which I was in
Always in fantasy of becoming the perfect son and child to all
But yet again if I came to reality of who I became, I was far from the illusions I had in my head
Guess that’s the life we were born to live in
Never getting what we want but what we never thought of was always on the table.
Mysteries of life kept me wandering with no reason and no hope of arriving a destination
Was I born a wanderer you ask?
It's a YES but yet a NO,
Did I make the decision of always drifting far from my reality?
These are questions I'm always faced with but again the answers are said to be in me but yet again not with me...
The only reality I've come to peace with is the that which I must keep fantasizing of a better me and becoming the better version of who I am in reality.