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Monday, December 17, 2007
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20:38 - Inkling Verwirrung
Category: Life
Part One: Lies For Release
It isn't very often I just cut the bullshit and say what's on my mind. The setting and the mood just call for a release. The hardest thing for me to do right now is to remain speechless. The easiest thing is not to listen. Whether deaf ears and loose lips populate my audience or not, I will still say this in every word I see fit to spill. Let word now be bonding.
Written in classic pencil on ancient paper are my artifact ideas. Communication through phone lines to the few of the masses who know me here. Few hearts are touched by these new machines, but they replace us more and more, by and by the day. Soon minutes will be hours in our seats watching TV. As our lives will become lived more efficiently by the machines. By then we'll live forever and complain about how there is never anything good on. But we'll keep watching. Watching the robots fight our wars. Watch them pollute our skies. And all the more efficiently once that human element is relieved, retired, replaced.
Science fiction is happening now. Not the flying cars and moving sidewalks, but the complete useless of the mind. The lost tools in the hands. The eyes that only see red or green. The mouths that sink our ships. The restless legs keeping us from rest. A body given it's every temptation. Hearts that just need us to bleed.
I'd say to pray and use your knees for something other than pleasing the media you buy from, but I am sure God won't check his work email until after his disability runs out. Not that I don't believe, but rather I believe he lets us take our own paths. If it leads to destruction through sloth, wrath and greed... then so be it. If we live to be a thousand years oldthrough research on dead babies... then so be that, too. He just told us about Hell and Sin. Sin is the spiritual anchor to take us down to Hell. Hell is the only place where sin floats. A life preserver in the lake of fire.
My stigmata is acting up again. The reign is about to come down. I can feel it in these old bones. My ancestors never felt this old at twenty-two. The seconds pace like hours for me now, but the hours never seem to be mine. Never quite happy or sad. Your emotions are the first things to go. The first of you that they'll take. It won't be the last if you keep letting them in. Feeding them scraps from your tablecloth and eating their scat back. Your tastey but worthless life will just rot you from the core. Me too.
And will write about it. Every word in real time up to the very end. Killing time and burying it it along with us. A keep sake, kept safe where no one wants to be. Like the oil, when time runs out, we'll be stranded. And of course by thenwe won't know how to use our legs. Our minds won't be able to comprehend. Not now anymore.
My opinions are worthless, but I write them. I'll take no true actions because I am lazy. Following everyone in the circle of life, never truly getting anywhere. That's why I write these words in the bathroom, prompting this mood of release.
Part Two: Hope For No Return
I'm asleep in a sand castle. That I know will be washed away before morning. It won't bother me to wake with the fishes. For air isn't important to me since I saw the footprints in the sand leading away, leaving me to mine.
My tears made this ocean. My hatred made it so hot. My greed made it so green. My solidarity left me here all alone. My actions made me to blame. My island not worth visiting. My wait is still the same.
My congregation of voices arise within my soul. They sing freedom songs to let me know I am still a prisoner of my own. These words, etched words on my epitaph walls, to count the days I have been lost at sea. If you see me on the bank lying in the waves then move me closer to drink at the sandbar.
The stars, I counted them all after only a few nights. Even named them and memorized their habits. New friends that are so old that they make me age as I stare. I see them in their prime; they see me before I was even concieved. The stardust supposedly makes us up, so I guess we are related.
Sand-dollars buy nothing here, but they bide my time. I live along a time line that circles this island. What better to do than follow time? Ride the waves and return to shore when I am done with that. Take shelter before any coming storm.
Storms are my only glance into what lies beyond. The sea is a cruel mistress like any woman you know that is restless. And even little me and my hut get shook when others feed her fury. I love her though, despite her harsh ways. She can wreck my ship anytime. Blow my cover if she wishes. As long as when it is over she carries me away into the distance.
My castle rebuilt, I vast in the sinking sun setting on my searching soul. A dreamer left adrift with no means to make a boat, but all the imagination to conceive one. This content heart will dissolve along with me. For now I slumber somewhere out at sea.
Part Three: Another Season To Be
My poetic lisp serves me well if you like what you now read. A few double meanings in hopes you'll follow what I am saying. Your comments, I hope will compliment my rhymes and prove I am worth your time.
Time is worth everything but money. Money isn't as important as the people you spend it on. To all you people, a merry holiday season. A season full of many reasons to keep believing in us, me and you.
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Currently
reading
:
V for Vendetta
By
Alan Moore
Release date: 01 April, 1995
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12 Comments - 14 Kudos
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Monday, December 10, 2007
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19:13 - Issues In Volumes / Minus The Man
Category: Life
Marking these words on the wall like they were my last, I pray you take tally to remember me by. To count all the futue tenses that came true, minus the past participle approaches and give these present words their due respect. If I write my own epitaph, as I do plan, it will clearly state in marble slate: "Someone said it better. You said it best."
No one is the savior they pray for. That may be why Earthly Heaven sells for so cheap. You could buy anything if you really knew how much your soul was worth. And wouldn't you? Give up that grand adventure hereafter for a little luxury in this ending world. Sorry old f(r)iend, but I must diverge here from you and this beaten path leading downhill. .Hold your own hand as you walk in downward circles and remember at the bottom how my hand once reached out. Even though I was there you did it all for you and blamed me for all the wrong. You may as well have been fucking yourself, too. Not that I will continue to care once I stop seeing you on the streets.
Being pissed off only gets you shitted on. Remitting in regurgitation, your vomit the most important thing escaping your lips. I'd certainly pray for a better way, but God already gave me a decent way to have you buried: You dig your own grave deep with lies and I'll bury you tight intact with the truth. Death until we parted, you were. You were the worst of what we had. And how I hope your ghost lingers on to see me when I am alone in our empty home, flipping you off. This was never easy for me, but I can't say I didn't sneer like a villian when I found out you still cared underneath your exterior of malicious intent. My only Hell past this would be that there wouldn't be another afterlife to send you to after I die. I know you'll rot one day, but I can only hope you suffer the worst of us two.
"We'll wage this war even if you've already won," you said. You always did say it best, even if it was you last.
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Currently
listening
:
Airs Above Your Station
By
Kinski
Release date: 21 January, 2003
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12 Comments - 14 Kudos
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Sunday, December 09, 2007
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05:22 - A Letter To The Alpha Bets (Laments)
To whom it may concern,
Life is a bitch and knowing it is half the hassle.
Living free means buying in to the rising prices to live.
Lies can become the truth, depending on the voice that speaks.
Lost on leaving, I still haven't found my way yet.
Across the way I see my neighbor's grass.
At dawn I already spite, despite my good intentions.
Altitude pressures me back down to see level.
Avarice woke me, but now shakes me in the wind.
Minus the man I am from who I used to be.
Multiple chance to give up make for my dramatic end.
Make my dreams and put me to sleep darling.
Midnight is the means to mend the mighty flawed start.
Egos work hard on the job.
Envious, I take time to laze, too.
Enough will be spent going home to stay broke.
Eliminating the use of my getting paid.
No one looks my way, but I know they stare.
Not one voice tells me why, but I am expected to always know.
Never mind that that just comes to surprise me.
Nestling close to the fire on TV is what I will soon call home.
Twilight talks me into bed and I sign my release form.
The fine print stipulates at least another day ahead.
Too late to back out now, the door has already disappeared.
Taken in strife, taken to and fro in the ebb and flow of the undertow.
Sucker bets win you more chances.
Such a cruel way to be honest.
So be happy, American ignorance is bliss.
Sincerely, Brian Oglesby.
(Simulcast on WSN: The Network)
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Currently
listening
:
Put Danger Back in Your Life
By
Folksongs for the Afterlife
Release date: 22 April, 2003
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17 Comments - 18 Kudos
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Wednesday, November 28, 2007
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22:40 - Angealic Sniper: Shot Down
Nighttime passes out my window. Without my glasses on I can see everything in a new light. It is almost like looking through a prism, seeing the scattered street lights as they pass my little moving bubble. The headlights from other drivers catches my attention as I turn my head toward the oncoming traffic. It is fine for me to this tonight since I don't have to drive. A good thing since my head is beginning to hurt from my eyes straining from the non-continuos light. I feel almost drunk... whatever that feels like. Sitting in the passenger seat... wherever that is. Rememberinf the the people... the ones I didn't really know. Well, one in particular.
This I write tonight is for a lost friend. She found Heaven, Hell, Limbo, or wherever we may go afterwards sooner than anyone reading this. The few times we spoke I got shot down by hew unique style. Rampunctiousness second to none so I hear. Now she is an angealic sniper, aiming from the clouds. Rocking louder than any other among the dead I can imagine. And of course I told her sister the best I could think of at the time, but I can't think of much to comfort myself on this one. I barely knew her, but it seems like such a loss. My only real comfort coming from the illegal thoughts behind the wheel.
Maybe at home I can find some solace in some arms. Until then I rest my head and drift over four wheels. I turn my mental music player up real loud, playing the oldies, hoping it eventually sings me to sleep for the rest of the ride. My glasses stay off, ears closed down and mind remaining stable... it takes a lot of time, close to half an hour, for me to realize I am truly blessed. Time well wasted.
This wasn't very much, but I dedicate it to Jesse Matusiak. Thank you for the memories and the brief times. They mean a lot, though few.
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Currently
listening
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Dancing Echoes / Dead Sounds
By
Codeseven
Release date: 05 October, 2004
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8 Comments - 12 Kudos
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Monday, November 26, 2007
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18:05 - The Continuity Counteracts The Tesseract
Category: Life
It isn't the walking that increases knowledge. No, the knowledge is already there, buoyant as air and thoughtful as ever. The only thing that this stroll offers is a chance to reflect on the things learned before the feet began. A chance to see what shadows follow close, sort of. And even if no thoughts float to the surface, there is always the scenery.
My dreams come back to me. Especially the one where white and black mate and fill my world with grey. When full I shade my eyes from the lighter grey breaking through the darker one in the sky. And then, after I wake up, I always blur my eyes in the dark to see if she is still with me. The black inspires me to go deeper back to sleep.
Time passes faster as I break the speed of color due to the unlikely physics of the matter. It seems like an eternity in the tilted frame of mind I am in. Not quite happy, not sad... just there and disgruntled. Company would be nice if the company could keep or even live up. I'm wishing for too much and that is what got me here. That along with denying myself those same dreams. My mind is always the enemy of my enemy, but never my friend. My heart is the enemy, eternal as I am. And so I guess when it comes down to who I am and of whom made me, there is no wondering that doesn't make you older quicker.
A yawn to break the silence, but not the ice around me. Did I mention it was cold? Well, yes it is cold here! Indeed. But if I freeze where I walk, would it matter since I never got anywhere? Walking this same circle back to lively cliche. You may think I am clever, but I could tell you thigs to convince you otherwise. Show my mistakes on paper written in pen. Count on my missunderstandings and add up my mistakes on tally. Teach my words to the people whom you want gone and save the results in ice.
Here no pleas for help on this walk I take to remind me to forget certain things. No worries on when I'll return, for this loop I walk goes constantly downhill. It is completely safe for me to walk these grounds, cursed by my mouth. Besides, time travel sucks when you figure out you can't change a thing because you'll make the same mistakes everytime because no one will ever learn.
Thanks for listening to my mind yet again. Tune in anytime to my TV with the camera behind the screen. And be thankful for all the surveliance, it may save your death for someone else.
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Currently
listening
:
No World For Tomorrow
By
Coheed & Cambria
Release date: 23 October, 2007
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13 Comments - 14 Kudos
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