Friday, September 23, 2011
Postings of a Young Life - Ep. 1 Knoxville, A Car Accident, and the Former Love
This is from 2005. It includes why not to do air duster, a car wreck in the rain into a tree, 2 former girlfriends, day trips to Knoxville twice, and other assorted crap. I also suck at cutting video. So.......awesome.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Steady-Winged Acetone
Charred whiskey slid like pedals to the floor.
My eyes gloss and stomach beckoned.
I cripple to the temptation.
Less suddenly becomes more and the light becomes too bright.
Pinching the synapse, clasping the short glass,
I make shortcomings with dreamed rememberings.
I study the tape and steal belongings which were mine to begin with.
The books misled to facts scoured to the ashen leaves.
And we continued our self-worth burning a pyre to the tempered glass.
The label had hid the noxious liquid's strength.
I had laughed with seasons of scores written to the gestures of rain drops.
We touched the eye lids of skies wanting snow upon our fields.
I, then, touching my torch once again to the salt water,
Swallow yet another faltered vague fantasy.
Promising entirely to swallow me empty.
<(^_^)>
My eyes gloss and stomach beckoned.
I cripple to the temptation.
Less suddenly becomes more and the light becomes too bright.
Pinching the synapse, clasping the short glass,
I make shortcomings with dreamed rememberings.
I study the tape and steal belongings which were mine to begin with.
The books misled to facts scoured to the ashen leaves.
And we continued our self-worth burning a pyre to the tempered glass.
The label had hid the noxious liquid's strength.
I had laughed with seasons of scores written to the gestures of rain drops.
We touched the eye lids of skies wanting snow upon our fields.
I, then, touching my torch once again to the salt water,
Swallow yet another faltered vague fantasy.
Promising entirely to swallow me empty.
<(^_^)>
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Kissing Through Glass
The shelf life was enough to make you sick. Expiration considering
mentionables. The smell of soap in your hair stood at the forefront of
lasting impressions. I would walk away from this one briskly. Clasping
sweaty dollars in my pocket, writhing at thoughts of meditation. I
stare into the moon, walk into the ocean, and forgot why I breathed.
After the waves subsided, ripples tickled my toes, dripping wet.
Swinging necklaces over prisms, figuring the distance to the nearest
star, I'll never see you like they did. And you just may never see me
at all...
Wednesday, 02 February 2011
Wednesday, 02 February 2011
Laughing like Hell....
I had selfishly calculated interest into the thing I had loved the
most. Then I turn around and sail from it on a boat with wings, smiling
placidly with glazed eyes.
In this ditch I lose myself. Not looking just leaping. The risk involved, nill. There can be no yes's.
I cannot define the moment of breakage. Simple gestures and aspects of myself which tear this paper plane. A paper plane wet with indifference and dismality. My darkness consumes, yet I self-destruct with a smile like an atomic bomb. The dark night is beauty and I have always been an owl. No denial to answer to.
And my heart becomes weak. Lymph nodes swell with the molds of leaves. Lungs blocked restricting the winds. And we all have a picnic in this thunderstorm. It is equal and true. The scrapes are for iodine and the drinking for alcohol.
You may have caught the glint of perception from this wave; however, this beast is golden, immune, and discrete. Just like your thoughts. Your secrets. Your depravity.
These days are a wet shining leaf, absolved of petty cares. Blinking shall suffice.
There is a greater plan at work here.
Life can't be so serious if no one makes it out alive anyway.
May 21, 2009
In this ditch I lose myself. Not looking just leaping. The risk involved, nill. There can be no yes's.
I cannot define the moment of breakage. Simple gestures and aspects of myself which tear this paper plane. A paper plane wet with indifference and dismality. My darkness consumes, yet I self-destruct with a smile like an atomic bomb. The dark night is beauty and I have always been an owl. No denial to answer to.
And my heart becomes weak. Lymph nodes swell with the molds of leaves. Lungs blocked restricting the winds. And we all have a picnic in this thunderstorm. It is equal and true. The scrapes are for iodine and the drinking for alcohol.
You may have caught the glint of perception from this wave; however, this beast is golden, immune, and discrete. Just like your thoughts. Your secrets. Your depravity.
These days are a wet shining leaf, absolved of petty cares. Blinking shall suffice.
There is a greater plan at work here.
Life can't be so serious if no one makes it out alive anyway.
May 21, 2009
A Handle You've Worn
I'll take my collapsible wings somewhere else
I had never seen a rainbow such as this
Mechanical filth in sulfuric acid screaming in metallic bliss.
But these were not the cries of death, yet of shame
a flowering forth of foul nectar, and necessity of such.
We could piss on our shirts for unbreakable rope, and
we would only bore a hole-hulled vessel heading towards destruction.
A last glimpse of hope in a fiery land cast towards death.
"Why grow old?", she said.
"Because the fungus permits it so." I replied.
And we lifted our heavy feet over dew-laden grass,
gulps of orange juice leaving a stout tart on our lips.
For this was much easier than explaining these failed ironies,
Accepting our own lost greatness, fall from space. Court the darkness.
Where in we formerly could escape, but now becomes our tomb.
So now the energy is devoid, we've compromised for dark energy.
A shade heavier than it's translucency would derive.
We are all empty and full at some points.
Dec 17, 2008
I had never seen a rainbow such as this
Mechanical filth in sulfuric acid screaming in metallic bliss.
But these were not the cries of death, yet of shame
a flowering forth of foul nectar, and necessity of such.
We could piss on our shirts for unbreakable rope, and
we would only bore a hole-hulled vessel heading towards destruction.
A last glimpse of hope in a fiery land cast towards death.
"Why grow old?", she said.
"Because the fungus permits it so." I replied.
And we lifted our heavy feet over dew-laden grass,
gulps of orange juice leaving a stout tart on our lips.
For this was much easier than explaining these failed ironies,
Accepting our own lost greatness, fall from space. Court the darkness.
Where in we formerly could escape, but now becomes our tomb.
So now the energy is devoid, we've compromised for dark energy.
A shade heavier than it's translucency would derive.
We are all empty and full at some points.
Dec 17, 2008
The Sour and the Sweet
It's not growing up that
hurts, it's losing the connections you had when you were young that
burn the very core of your understanding, and perspective of the world,
requiring you to mature to an absurd and sometimes unhappy level.
I wish I were ignorant to the facts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The gloom and gold has subsided.
She wiped her hair from her eyes.
A simple exchange of blood and dye.
A scissor cut to your paper burn.
As the daisies will have you for breakfast.
I want to run into someone like a wall of gum.
Stuck, unhindered in my pretense for adoration.
For only one person to understand these words.
Where do my intellect-seeking inhibitions end?
It must be easy for some who are blind.
For it to seem like what I say does not matter.
The blind cannot see the words, simply feel the bumps.
I'll cut that part out lobotomy style.
So that the next may have me ignorant and blissful.
Analytical behavior stand for a curse as much as an upper hand.
Only actions may explain it's wrath.
^_^
Sep 22, 2008
I wish I were ignorant to the facts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The gloom and gold has subsided.
She wiped her hair from her eyes.
A simple exchange of blood and dye.
A scissor cut to your paper burn.
As the daisies will have you for breakfast.
I want to run into someone like a wall of gum.
Stuck, unhindered in my pretense for adoration.
For only one person to understand these words.
Where do my intellect-seeking inhibitions end?
It must be easy for some who are blind.
For it to seem like what I say does not matter.
The blind cannot see the words, simply feel the bumps.
I'll cut that part out lobotomy style.
So that the next may have me ignorant and blissful.
Analytical behavior stand for a curse as much as an upper hand.
Only actions may explain it's wrath.
^_^
Sep 22, 2008
I want you
Some crisp involuntary notion.
And you would kiss my fingers with smiles.
I have all of the world to give to you.
But I've never seen you glancing.
I could ask and hope and then it's not sacred.
But then maybe my love hasn't been until now.
I had scarred myself and broken my own bones,
and the hole is now filled with fresh dirt and sunflowers.
I let the little bugs come outside.
And if I only got to kiss you once,
it meant I was smiling.
That the sycamores would never dry.
That you are the apple of my eye, and then?
Well, I let the little bugs come outside.
Deep, and over, and out, I let them.
They are my lawyers. And my kisses my handcuffs.
I want you in custody too.
And your orange-flavored lips can be mine.
Aug 18, 2008
And you would kiss my fingers with smiles.
I have all of the world to give to you.
But I've never seen you glancing.
I could ask and hope and then it's not sacred.
But then maybe my love hasn't been until now.
I had scarred myself and broken my own bones,
and the hole is now filled with fresh dirt and sunflowers.
I let the little bugs come outside.
And if I only got to kiss you once,
it meant I was smiling.
That the sycamores would never dry.
That you are the apple of my eye, and then?
Well, I let the little bugs come outside.
Deep, and over, and out, I let them.
They are my lawyers. And my kisses my handcuffs.
I want you in custody too.
And your orange-flavored lips can be mine.
Aug 18, 2008
Everything is It's Wrong Place
I'm good now. I mean for real. Life is a great thing.
I'm over myself, but not under the table.
I'm looking forward to the taste of red wine.
You are invited.
Let's fucking make a ruckus and catch some fireflies.
The discarded past is a remnant of reflection wading in the waters of pious debachauery. Yet, I shall discard it. Perhaps most with it, but a few. For why else? It's the only way I'll ever be able to live sanely. And if you REALLY know me, then I think you know what I mean. Apathy is a cold strangle of sad drunks, and addicted musicians. It is needed at times, and it can become comfortable, maybe even too comfortable. But the majority of the time, it's simply smothering and restless. Like a plastic bag choking dolphins, and I was just screeching, writhing in the water, thinking "maybe if I move the right way...."
And thats bullshit. Like most of everything maybe. But it's what I've come to. Because it's true. Like the good advice I brush off, it is utterly true.
Like the crime of addiction. The crime of love. The crime of obsession.
The pathetic details should never overwrite the inauspicious ends. Fuck the details. They bring discretion at too high a level, and confuse the very fabric of what is important to you. It all seems so simple sometimes, like you can place the point at which these details became important, but the truth is it's much harder. The details can become anything, and the extent to which you will rectify them is astounding. All too abolish insecurities which are healthy. Which are normal. Which make you even give a fuck. And when you disregard those, you become a king of narcissism. The very pinnacle of self-obsessed ass. Perhaps my own perspective is biased, but I know that these things ARE true. It is simple fear at the root of it. No blame-shift. No 2nd chances. Just a sweet kiss goodbye to the wrong-doings of your former self; Or, that which you'd like to be, but are maybe just on your way.
Let's create. Maybe we can forget or just choose not to remember. Because the ends are a much better thing to remember. Too fucking sweet for anything else to matter as much.
^_^
Jun 30, 2008
I'm over myself, but not under the table.
I'm looking forward to the taste of red wine.
You are invited.
Let's fucking make a ruckus and catch some fireflies.
The discarded past is a remnant of reflection wading in the waters of pious debachauery. Yet, I shall discard it. Perhaps most with it, but a few. For why else? It's the only way I'll ever be able to live sanely. And if you REALLY know me, then I think you know what I mean. Apathy is a cold strangle of sad drunks, and addicted musicians. It is needed at times, and it can become comfortable, maybe even too comfortable. But the majority of the time, it's simply smothering and restless. Like a plastic bag choking dolphins, and I was just screeching, writhing in the water, thinking "maybe if I move the right way...."
And thats bullshit. Like most of everything maybe. But it's what I've come to. Because it's true. Like the good advice I brush off, it is utterly true.
Like the crime of addiction. The crime of love. The crime of obsession.
The pathetic details should never overwrite the inauspicious ends. Fuck the details. They bring discretion at too high a level, and confuse the very fabric of what is important to you. It all seems so simple sometimes, like you can place the point at which these details became important, but the truth is it's much harder. The details can become anything, and the extent to which you will rectify them is astounding. All too abolish insecurities which are healthy. Which are normal. Which make you even give a fuck. And when you disregard those, you become a king of narcissism. The very pinnacle of self-obsessed ass. Perhaps my own perspective is biased, but I know that these things ARE true. It is simple fear at the root of it. No blame-shift. No 2nd chances. Just a sweet kiss goodbye to the wrong-doings of your former self; Or, that which you'd like to be, but are maybe just on your way.
Let's create. Maybe we can forget or just choose not to remember. Because the ends are a much better thing to remember. Too fucking sweet for anything else to matter as much.
^_^
Jun 30, 2008
And it was all half-smiles
All terrapins were choking me,
the soft gallant return to individuality.
We did not see the stars that night,
the synapse-based paint flooded our perception;
a flowing merely glowing with resonance.
As if shafts of prism-light held us into the air,
great hands for reaching nebulae.
Gold, perhaps, I could scrounge.
As if desire held no price.
A weak Thursday apparent and unseen.
We could forget our names and swallow fireflies
on hills of abalone and wheat.
I can go to sleep, but only when you break glass,
and steer the fraudulant scavengers to foul fare.
Crisp apples were the taking of our enjoyment.
The cloud, the daisy, and the firestorm.
You only die once and live but a few times.
So she spoke trapped in lenses.
Amid the bridled king of addictions.
And you shall see all half-smiles.
Subordinate rulers are the others in loathesome.
Jun 23, 2008
the soft gallant return to individuality.
We did not see the stars that night,
the synapse-based paint flooded our perception;
a flowing merely glowing with resonance.
As if shafts of prism-light held us into the air,
great hands for reaching nebulae.
Gold, perhaps, I could scrounge.
As if desire held no price.
A weak Thursday apparent and unseen.
We could forget our names and swallow fireflies
on hills of abalone and wheat.
I can go to sleep, but only when you break glass,
and steer the fraudulant scavengers to foul fare.
Crisp apples were the taking of our enjoyment.
The cloud, the daisy, and the firestorm.
You only die once and live but a few times.
So she spoke trapped in lenses.
Amid the bridled king of addictions.
And you shall see all half-smiles.
Subordinate rulers are the others in loathesome.
Jun 23, 2008
Open your fucking eyes.
On the ever-turning point of the government internally fucking you, I have
more upsetting certainities.
A myth is an idea that while widely believed, is false. In a deeper sense, in
the religious sense, a myth serves as an orienting and mobilizing story for a
people. The focus is not on the story's reality, but it's function. A story
cannot function, unless it is believed to be true in the community or the nation.
It is not a matter of debate, if some people have the bad taste to raise the
question of the truth of the sacred story, the keepers of the faith do not enter
into debate with them, they ignore them or denounce them as blasphemers.
We know that the men who were the supposed "hi-jackers"on 9/11 had their
houses, cars, and credit cards paid for by the U.S. government. In truth, they
were agents. The core of each of the twin towers were made of 47 massive steel
columns, if the floors had broken loose from them, the core would have still been
standing. The creators of the bulding claim it could have withstood 4 to 7
Boeing 747 strikes. The only explanation which would explain a building falling
at "free-fall" speed, are explosions. In controlled demolitions, the core beams
are cut at an angle, to produce a simultaneous drop of walls and "core" material.
The beams of the twin towers are ALL cut at angles. There were massive pools of
metal found all around the columns. You see, 6 weeks after the drop of the
towers, there were still hotspots documented over 2000 degrees, thats 500 degrees
hotter than even jet fuel burns. The official reports include nothing about
molten pools of metal.
Through Electron Microscope analysis of the melted WTC Steel & the Iron-rich
Microspheresin in the dust, Dr. Jones found exact traces of not only the 'Thermite'
explosive compound, but, due to the high sulfur content, "Thermate" - a patended
brand of thermite used in the demolition industry.
They covered up the 7 Trade Center building falling.
Building 7 has the tell-tale 'crink' in the middle of the building as it fell,
marking that one of the support columns had been dropped, in order not not damage
the buildings around it. The 9/11 commission report implicitly admitted that it
could not explain what happened to this building, by not even mentioning it.
Page 172 of the 9/11 commission: "The U.S. government has not been able to
determine the origin of the money used for the 9/11 attacks. Ultimately, the
questions is little practical significance."
It is of massive consequence. Doesn't it matter who paid for 9/11?
When Bush and Cheney met with the 9/11 Commission, they did so only on their own
terms:
The appeared together, they were not under oath, no press or family
members were allowed to attend, no recording of any kind was allowed, and no
transcript was allowed.
There is literally nothing in the 9/11 report that the Bush Administration did
not approve of.
We can understand, therefore, that the administration, would have ignored all the
evidence that would have pointed to the truth. That 9/11 was a false flag
operation intended to authorize the doctrines and funds needed for a new level of
imperial mobilization.
Nearly all terror suspects are released without charges....but thats after they
make the front page for you to see.
Ted Gunderson - Former FBI Chief of LA, Dallas, and Memphis operations:
"The CIA is done is this country, look at what they done to us. Look at all the
terrorist acts that have occurred, the CIA behind most if not all of them. We had
the marine barracks, we had our embassy in Kenya, we had Pan-Am - 103, we had the
U.S.S. Cole, we had Oklahoma City, and we had the World Trade Center in 1993.
The informant, a 43-year-old Egyptian army officer, was given the assignment to
put the bomb together (WTC 1993); And he went to his supervisor, his FBI
supervisor, and said "We're gonna put a dummy-bomb in there right?" and the FBI
supervisor said "NO! We're going to put a real bomb in there." He was paid 1
million for his services. Unfortunately for them, only 6 people were killed. Not
enough to pass legislation (anti-terror legislation), so what happened was, a
short time later, down comes Oklahoma City, 168 people killed. One year later,
the anti-terror legislation, which takes away many of our constitutional rights
and civil liberties, is passed. And when I think about how many Americans were
killed in New York, and believing as I do that this think was a set up job, this
is a text-book operation that Nazis used, and they've used it over and over and
over again. America has been suckered in one more time."
The Truth
Criminal elements within the U.S. government staged a "False Flag" Terror Attack
on it own citizens, in order to manipulate public perception into supporting it's
agenda. They have been doing this for years. 9/11 was an inside job.
Since Sept. 11th:
Military spending has increased by 100 billion a year in the U.S.
Nearly all the Bill of Rights have been subverted.
Two "Preemptive" Wars killing over (800,000) civilians have been waged.
....and that is just the beginning.
A fear campaign has been inaugurated.
"The world is governed by different personages from what is imagined by those who
are not behind the scenes."
-Benjamin Dislaeli - English statesmen 1844
"The real truth of the matter is that a financial element in the large centers
has owned the government since the days of Andrew Jackson."
- Franklin D Roosevelt - U.S. President 1933
Value of a dollar
What is a central bank?
A central bank is a bank that produces the currency of an entire nation.
Essentially there are two specific powers inherent in central banking - the
control of interest rates and the control of money supply (inflation). The
central bank does not simply supply a country's economy with money, it loans it
to them at interest. Then through the use of increasing and decreasing the
supply of money, the central bank regulates the value of the currency being
issued. It is critical to understand that the entire structure of this system
can only produce one thing - DEBT. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure
that out.
For every single dollar produced by the central bank is loaned, at interest, that
means every single dollar produced is actually the dollar plus a certain
percentage of this dollar immediately in debt. That means that the central bank
has a monopoly over the production of the currency for the entire country, and
they loan each dollar out with immediate debt attached to it.
Where does the money to pay for the debt come from?
It can only come from the central bank again, which means that the central bank
has to perpetually increase it's money supply to temporarily cover the
outstanding debt created, which in turn, since that new money is loaned out at
even more interest, creates more debt. The end result of this system, without
fail, is slavery, for it is impossible for the government and thus the public to
ever come out of the self-generating debt. The founding fathers of this country
were well aware of this.
"I believe banking institutions are more dangerous than standing armies...If the
American people ever allow banks to control the issue of currency...the banks and
corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of their
property until their children wake up homeless on the continent their fathers
conquered."
-Thomas Jefferson 1734-1826
The Federal Reserve Act was written by bankers not lawmen. Woodrow Wilson agreed
to sign the act just before becoming president, in exchange for campaign support.
Later he wrote in regret:
"Our great industrial nation is controlled by a system of credit. Our system of
credit is privately concentrated. The growth of our nation, therefore, and all
our activities are in the hands of a few men...who necessarily, by very reason of
their own limitations, chill and check and destroy genuine economic freedom.
We have come to one of the worst ruled, on of the most completely controlled and
dominated governments in the civilized world - no government by free opinion, no
longer a government by conviction and the vote of the majority, but a government
by the opinion and the duress of small groups of dominant men."
-Woodrow Wilson
Louis McFadden also expressed his concern shortly after the bill was passed:
"A world banking system was being set up here....A superstate controlled by
international bankers....acting together to enslave the world for their own
pleasure. The FED has usurped the government."
-Louis McFadden
Now, the public was told that the federal reserve system was an economic
stabilizer, and that inflation and economic crises were a thing of the past. But
I think as we've seen this is most certainly false. The fact is, the
international bankers now have a stream-lined machine with which to expand their
personal ambitions.
They caused the depression, by increasing money supply, then calling in thousands
of loans. This created panic.
"Under the federal reserve act, panics are scientifically created. The present
panic is the first scientifically created one, worked out as we figure a
mathematical equation."
-Charles Lindberg
Margin Loans were the path to the first depression. These were loans that could
be called in at any time, and must be paid within 24 hours. This resulted in a
Margin Call, and the typical result of a margin call, was the selling of the
stock purchased with the loan. These cause massive panic in the market, which
cause call-ins on margin loans in mass. This enabled conspiring national bankers
to not only buy up smaller banks at a discount, but to also buy whole
corporations at pennies of a dollar. It was the greatest robbery in American
history. But that didn't stop there. Rather than increase the money supply
which would recover from this economic collapse, the FED actually contracted it,
fueling one of the largest depressions in history.
Once again Louis McFadden, congressman and great opposer of the banking cartels
outraged in defiance:
"It was a carefully contrived occurrence. International bankers sought to bring
about a condition of despair, so that they might emerge the rulers of us all."
Now, deciding to even further their strangle-hold on money, the federal bankers
decided to remove the gold standard, but to do this, they needed to require the
remaining gold in the system. So under the pretense of "helping to end the
depression", came a 1933 gold seizure, under the threat of imprisonment for 10
years, everyone in America was required to turn in all gold bullion to the
treasury, essentially robbing the public of what little wealth they had left.
And in 1933 the gold standard was abolished. If you look at a dollar bill before
1933, it says, it is redeemable in gold. You look at a dollar bill today, it says
it is legal TENDER. Which means it is backed by absolutely nothing. It is
worthless paper. The ONLY thing which gives our money, is how much of it is in
circulation, therefore, the power to regulate the money supply is also the power
to regulate it's value. Which is also the power to bring entire economies to
their knees.
"Give me control of a nation's money supply, and I care not who makes the laws."
-Mayor Amschiel Rothschild, Founder of Rothschild Banking Dynasty
It's important to clearly understand, that the Federal Reserve, is a private
corporation. It's about as federal, as Federal Express. It makes it's own
policies and is virtually no regulation by the U.S. government. It is a private
bank, that loans all the currency at interest to the government. Completely
consistent with the fraudulent banking model the country sought to escape from in
the Revolutionary War.
Now lets remember the Federal Income Tax. It's worthwhile to point out that the
American public's ignorance to the Federal Income Tax is a testament to how
dumbed down and oblivious the American population really is.
First of all, the Federal Income Tax, is completely unconstitutional, as it is a
DIRECT, UNAPPORTIONED tax. All direct taxes must be apportioned, to be legal,
according to the constitution. Secondly, the minimum number of states in order
to ratify the amendment, was never met. This has even been cited at modern
court cases. Third, on average 25% of a workers pay is taken via this tax. And
guess where that money goes?! It goes to pay the interest, on the currency being
produced by the fraudulent Federal Reserve Bank. A system that does not have to
exist at all.
The money you make, working almost 3 months out of the year, goes almost
literally into the pockets of the international bankers who own the private
Federal Reserve bank.
And fourth, even with the fraudulent government claim as to the legality of the
income tax, there is literally no statute, no law in existence, which requires
you to pay.
The income tax is nothing less, than the enslavement of the entire country.
WWI cost 30 billion to America, all borrowed from the Federal Reserve Bank at
interest. This resulted in a marginally high profit to international bankers.
Pearl harbor was known about. As we've seen, nothing is more profitable to
international bankers, than war.
Important Fact: Nazi Germany's war effort was due possible to I.G. Farben, they
produced over 84% of Germany's explosives and even the ZYCLON B used in the
concentration camps. One of the unspoken partners of I.G. Farben was J.D.
Rockefellers U.S. Standard Oil Company in America, in fact the German air force
could not operate without a special additive patented by Rockefeller's Standard
Oil.
The Union Banding Corp. of New York City also financed numerous aspects to
Hitler's rise to power along with actual materials during the war. Guess who
the president of the bank was at that time? Prescott Bush, our current
president's grandfather. Keep that in mind when considering the moral and
economic decisions of the Bush family.
The sinking of the PT boats at the start of the Vietnam war, was a completely
staged event in order to get us into it. Many officers have come forward since
then and said plainly it was "a contrived farce". A complete lie.
The war went on so long, because it was never meant to be won, just sustained.
War for profit.
So where are we now?
9/11 was no different than a staged war-pretext in order to initiate one no
different, than the sinking of the Lusitania in WW1, the provoking of Pearl
Harbor, And The Gulf of Tonkin Ly. In fact if it weren't a pretext for war, it
would be an exception to the rule. It has been used to launch two illegal,
unprovoked wars, one against Iraq, and one against Afghanistan. However, 9/11 was
also the pretext of another war, the war against you.
The Patriot Act, Homeland Security, The Military Tribunals Act, and other
legislations are all completely and entirely designed to destroy your civil
liberties and limit your ability to fight back against what is coming. Read the
Patriot Act and tell me what it says?
A lot can happen to you just under the 'hunch' of you being a 'terrorist'. There
is a whole hospital in Europe even, where they cater to nothing but American
torture victims.
If you think this is something new, lets remind ourselves of how history repeats
itself. Hitler staged a 'False Flag' attack on his own building, burning it down
and saying it was an act by communist terrorists. After that he passed a bill,
completely eradicating the German constitution, destroying peoples liberties. He
then led a series of pre-emptive wars, all justified to the Germany people as
necessary to maintaining HOMELAND SECURITY.
"An evil exists that threatens every man, woman, and child of this great nation.
We must take steps to ensure our domestic scurity and protect our homeland."
George W. Bush?
No.
Adolf Hitler - when announcing the Gestapo to the people
It's time to wake up.
The people in power go out of their way to make sure that you are perpetually
misled and manipulated. The majority's perception of reality, especially in the
political arena, is not their own. It is shrewdly imposed upon them without them
even knowing it. For example. most Americans think the invasion of Iraq is going
badly. But what the public doesn't see is that de-stabilization of Iraq is
exactly what the government wants. This war is to be sustained. So the region
can be divided up, domination of the oil maintained, continual profits reaped for
the defense contractors, and most importantly, permanent military bases
established, to be used as a launching platform against other oil-bearing,
non-conforming countries, such as Iran and Syria.
You know I can't do it for you. I can sit here and type for hours. You won't
listen to me. I am no one. Watch the movie "Zeitgeist". Watch the move "Network" from 1976. Let it show you what you don't want to believe. I'm off. I tried to tell you. Learn. GET MAD!!!!!!!!!
You'd better wake up and understand that there are people guiding your life and
you don't even realize it.
There are even open border policies that you don't even know about. Canada, Mexico, and the United States are all one country now. If you don't know what this is, You just wasted all of your time reading this.
^_^
Jun. 15, 2008
more upsetting certainities.
A myth is an idea that while widely believed, is false. In a deeper sense, in
the religious sense, a myth serves as an orienting and mobilizing story for a
people. The focus is not on the story's reality, but it's function. A story
cannot function, unless it is believed to be true in the community or the nation.
It is not a matter of debate, if some people have the bad taste to raise the
question of the truth of the sacred story, the keepers of the faith do not enter
into debate with them, they ignore them or denounce them as blasphemers.
We know that the men who were the supposed "hi-jackers"on 9/11 had their
houses, cars, and credit cards paid for by the U.S. government. In truth, they
were agents. The core of each of the twin towers were made of 47 massive steel
columns, if the floors had broken loose from them, the core would have still been
standing. The creators of the bulding claim it could have withstood 4 to 7
Boeing 747 strikes. The only explanation which would explain a building falling
at "free-fall" speed, are explosions. In controlled demolitions, the core beams
are cut at an angle, to produce a simultaneous drop of walls and "core" material.
The beams of the twin towers are ALL cut at angles. There were massive pools of
metal found all around the columns. You see, 6 weeks after the drop of the
towers, there were still hotspots documented over 2000 degrees, thats 500 degrees
hotter than even jet fuel burns. The official reports include nothing about
molten pools of metal.
Through Electron Microscope analysis of the melted WTC Steel & the Iron-rich
Microspheresin in the dust, Dr. Jones found exact traces of not only the 'Thermite'
explosive compound, but, due to the high sulfur content, "Thermate" - a patended
brand of thermite used in the demolition industry.
They covered up the 7 Trade Center building falling.
Building 7 has the tell-tale 'crink' in the middle of the building as it fell,
marking that one of the support columns had been dropped, in order not not damage
the buildings around it. The 9/11 commission report implicitly admitted that it
could not explain what happened to this building, by not even mentioning it.
Page 172 of the 9/11 commission: "The U.S. government has not been able to
determine the origin of the money used for the 9/11 attacks. Ultimately, the
questions is little practical significance."
It is of massive consequence. Doesn't it matter who paid for 9/11?
When Bush and Cheney met with the 9/11 Commission, they did so only on their own
terms:
The appeared together, they were not under oath, no press or family
members were allowed to attend, no recording of any kind was allowed, and no
transcript was allowed.
There is literally nothing in the 9/11 report that the Bush Administration did
not approve of.
We can understand, therefore, that the administration, would have ignored all the
evidence that would have pointed to the truth. That 9/11 was a false flag
operation intended to authorize the doctrines and funds needed for a new level of
imperial mobilization.
Nearly all terror suspects are released without charges....but thats after they
make the front page for you to see.
Ted Gunderson - Former FBI Chief of LA, Dallas, and Memphis operations:
"The CIA is done is this country, look at what they done to us. Look at all the
terrorist acts that have occurred, the CIA behind most if not all of them. We had
the marine barracks, we had our embassy in Kenya, we had Pan-Am - 103, we had the
U.S.S. Cole, we had Oklahoma City, and we had the World Trade Center in 1993.
The informant, a 43-year-old Egyptian army officer, was given the assignment to
put the bomb together (WTC 1993); And he went to his supervisor, his FBI
supervisor, and said "We're gonna put a dummy-bomb in there right?" and the FBI
supervisor said "NO! We're going to put a real bomb in there." He was paid 1
million for his services. Unfortunately for them, only 6 people were killed. Not
enough to pass legislation (anti-terror legislation), so what happened was, a
short time later, down comes Oklahoma City, 168 people killed. One year later,
the anti-terror legislation, which takes away many of our constitutional rights
and civil liberties, is passed. And when I think about how many Americans were
killed in New York, and believing as I do that this think was a set up job, this
is a text-book operation that Nazis used, and they've used it over and over and
over again. America has been suckered in one more time."
The Truth
Criminal elements within the U.S. government staged a "False Flag" Terror Attack
on it own citizens, in order to manipulate public perception into supporting it's
agenda. They have been doing this for years. 9/11 was an inside job.
Since Sept. 11th:
Military spending has increased by 100 billion a year in the U.S.
Nearly all the Bill of Rights have been subverted.
Two "Preemptive" Wars killing over (800,000) civilians have been waged.
....and that is just the beginning.
A fear campaign has been inaugurated.
"The world is governed by different personages from what is imagined by those who
are not behind the scenes."
-Benjamin Dislaeli - English statesmen 1844
"The real truth of the matter is that a financial element in the large centers
has owned the government since the days of Andrew Jackson."
- Franklin D Roosevelt - U.S. President 1933
Value of a dollar
What is a central bank?
A central bank is a bank that produces the currency of an entire nation.
Essentially there are two specific powers inherent in central banking - the
control of interest rates and the control of money supply (inflation). The
central bank does not simply supply a country's economy with money, it loans it
to them at interest. Then through the use of increasing and decreasing the
supply of money, the central bank regulates the value of the currency being
issued. It is critical to understand that the entire structure of this system
can only produce one thing - DEBT. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure
that out.
For every single dollar produced by the central bank is loaned, at interest, that
means every single dollar produced is actually the dollar plus a certain
percentage of this dollar immediately in debt. That means that the central bank
has a monopoly over the production of the currency for the entire country, and
they loan each dollar out with immediate debt attached to it.
Where does the money to pay for the debt come from?
It can only come from the central bank again, which means that the central bank
has to perpetually increase it's money supply to temporarily cover the
outstanding debt created, which in turn, since that new money is loaned out at
even more interest, creates more debt. The end result of this system, without
fail, is slavery, for it is impossible for the government and thus the public to
ever come out of the self-generating debt. The founding fathers of this country
were well aware of this.
"I believe banking institutions are more dangerous than standing armies...If the
American people ever allow banks to control the issue of currency...the banks and
corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of their
property until their children wake up homeless on the continent their fathers
conquered."
-Thomas Jefferson 1734-1826
The Federal Reserve Act was written by bankers not lawmen. Woodrow Wilson agreed
to sign the act just before becoming president, in exchange for campaign support.
Later he wrote in regret:
"Our great industrial nation is controlled by a system of credit. Our system of
credit is privately concentrated. The growth of our nation, therefore, and all
our activities are in the hands of a few men...who necessarily, by very reason of
their own limitations, chill and check and destroy genuine economic freedom.
We have come to one of the worst ruled, on of the most completely controlled and
dominated governments in the civilized world - no government by free opinion, no
longer a government by conviction and the vote of the majority, but a government
by the opinion and the duress of small groups of dominant men."
-Woodrow Wilson
Louis McFadden also expressed his concern shortly after the bill was passed:
"A world banking system was being set up here....A superstate controlled by
international bankers....acting together to enslave the world for their own
pleasure. The FED has usurped the government."
-Louis McFadden
Now, the public was told that the federal reserve system was an economic
stabilizer, and that inflation and economic crises were a thing of the past. But
I think as we've seen this is most certainly false. The fact is, the
international bankers now have a stream-lined machine with which to expand their
personal ambitions.
They caused the depression, by increasing money supply, then calling in thousands
of loans. This created panic.
"Under the federal reserve act, panics are scientifically created. The present
panic is the first scientifically created one, worked out as we figure a
mathematical equation."
-Charles Lindberg
Margin Loans were the path to the first depression. These were loans that could
be called in at any time, and must be paid within 24 hours. This resulted in a
Margin Call, and the typical result of a margin call, was the selling of the
stock purchased with the loan. These cause massive panic in the market, which
cause call-ins on margin loans in mass. This enabled conspiring national bankers
to not only buy up smaller banks at a discount, but to also buy whole
corporations at pennies of a dollar. It was the greatest robbery in American
history. But that didn't stop there. Rather than increase the money supply
which would recover from this economic collapse, the FED actually contracted it,
fueling one of the largest depressions in history.
Once again Louis McFadden, congressman and great opposer of the banking cartels
outraged in defiance:
"It was a carefully contrived occurrence. International bankers sought to bring
about a condition of despair, so that they might emerge the rulers of us all."
Now, deciding to even further their strangle-hold on money, the federal bankers
decided to remove the gold standard, but to do this, they needed to require the
remaining gold in the system. So under the pretense of "helping to end the
depression", came a 1933 gold seizure, under the threat of imprisonment for 10
years, everyone in America was required to turn in all gold bullion to the
treasury, essentially robbing the public of what little wealth they had left.
And in 1933 the gold standard was abolished. If you look at a dollar bill before
1933, it says, it is redeemable in gold. You look at a dollar bill today, it says
it is legal TENDER. Which means it is backed by absolutely nothing. It is
worthless paper. The ONLY thing which gives our money, is how much of it is in
circulation, therefore, the power to regulate the money supply is also the power
to regulate it's value. Which is also the power to bring entire economies to
their knees.
"Give me control of a nation's money supply, and I care not who makes the laws."
-Mayor Amschiel Rothschild, Founder of Rothschild Banking Dynasty
It's important to clearly understand, that the Federal Reserve, is a private
corporation. It's about as federal, as Federal Express. It makes it's own
policies and is virtually no regulation by the U.S. government. It is a private
bank, that loans all the currency at interest to the government. Completely
consistent with the fraudulent banking model the country sought to escape from in
the Revolutionary War.
Now lets remember the Federal Income Tax. It's worthwhile to point out that the
American public's ignorance to the Federal Income Tax is a testament to how
dumbed down and oblivious the American population really is.
First of all, the Federal Income Tax, is completely unconstitutional, as it is a
DIRECT, UNAPPORTIONED tax. All direct taxes must be apportioned, to be legal,
according to the constitution. Secondly, the minimum number of states in order
to ratify the amendment, was never met. This has even been cited at modern
court cases. Third, on average 25% of a workers pay is taken via this tax. And
guess where that money goes?! It goes to pay the interest, on the currency being
produced by the fraudulent Federal Reserve Bank. A system that does not have to
exist at all.
The money you make, working almost 3 months out of the year, goes almost
literally into the pockets of the international bankers who own the private
Federal Reserve bank.
And fourth, even with the fraudulent government claim as to the legality of the
income tax, there is literally no statute, no law in existence, which requires
you to pay.
The income tax is nothing less, than the enslavement of the entire country.
WWI cost 30 billion to America, all borrowed from the Federal Reserve Bank at
interest. This resulted in a marginally high profit to international bankers.
Pearl harbor was known about. As we've seen, nothing is more profitable to
international bankers, than war.
Important Fact: Nazi Germany's war effort was due possible to I.G. Farben, they
produced over 84% of Germany's explosives and even the ZYCLON B used in the
concentration camps. One of the unspoken partners of I.G. Farben was J.D.
Rockefellers U.S. Standard Oil Company in America, in fact the German air force
could not operate without a special additive patented by Rockefeller's Standard
Oil.
The Union Banding Corp. of New York City also financed numerous aspects to
Hitler's rise to power along with actual materials during the war. Guess who
the president of the bank was at that time? Prescott Bush, our current
president's grandfather. Keep that in mind when considering the moral and
economic decisions of the Bush family.
The sinking of the PT boats at the start of the Vietnam war, was a completely
staged event in order to get us into it. Many officers have come forward since
then and said plainly it was "a contrived farce". A complete lie.
The war went on so long, because it was never meant to be won, just sustained.
War for profit.
So where are we now?
9/11 was no different than a staged war-pretext in order to initiate one no
different, than the sinking of the Lusitania in WW1, the provoking of Pearl
Harbor, And The Gulf of Tonkin Ly. In fact if it weren't a pretext for war, it
would be an exception to the rule. It has been used to launch two illegal,
unprovoked wars, one against Iraq, and one against Afghanistan. However, 9/11 was
also the pretext of another war, the war against you.
The Patriot Act, Homeland Security, The Military Tribunals Act, and other
legislations are all completely and entirely designed to destroy your civil
liberties and limit your ability to fight back against what is coming. Read the
Patriot Act and tell me what it says?
A lot can happen to you just under the 'hunch' of you being a 'terrorist'. There
is a whole hospital in Europe even, where they cater to nothing but American
torture victims.
If you think this is something new, lets remind ourselves of how history repeats
itself. Hitler staged a 'False Flag' attack on his own building, burning it down
and saying it was an act by communist terrorists. After that he passed a bill,
completely eradicating the German constitution, destroying peoples liberties. He
then led a series of pre-emptive wars, all justified to the Germany people as
necessary to maintaining HOMELAND SECURITY.
"An evil exists that threatens every man, woman, and child of this great nation.
We must take steps to ensure our domestic scurity and protect our homeland."
George W. Bush?
No.
Adolf Hitler - when announcing the Gestapo to the people
It's time to wake up.
The people in power go out of their way to make sure that you are perpetually
misled and manipulated. The majority's perception of reality, especially in the
political arena, is not their own. It is shrewdly imposed upon them without them
even knowing it. For example. most Americans think the invasion of Iraq is going
badly. But what the public doesn't see is that de-stabilization of Iraq is
exactly what the government wants. This war is to be sustained. So the region
can be divided up, domination of the oil maintained, continual profits reaped for
the defense contractors, and most importantly, permanent military bases
established, to be used as a launching platform against other oil-bearing,
non-conforming countries, such as Iran and Syria.
You know I can't do it for you. I can sit here and type for hours. You won't
listen to me. I am no one. Watch the movie "Zeitgeist". Watch the move "Network" from 1976. Let it show you what you don't want to believe. I'm off. I tried to tell you. Learn. GET MAD!!!!!!!!!
You'd better wake up and understand that there are people guiding your life and
you don't even realize it.
There are even open border policies that you don't even know about. Canada, Mexico, and the United States are all one country now. If you don't know what this is, You just wasted all of your time reading this.
^_^
Jun. 15, 2008
Why your Abercrombie will KILL you
It seems I’ve always known when you say yes, but never when to say no.
As is solving the ever-undemystifiable problem of the incomplete self, would
yield answers.
These days, it’s easy for someone to die and for us to put someone in a grave and
thats it.
Former man would ’understand the dead’, as it were. Keeping The Dead in mind in
daily life, atleast in an idyllic sense.
You are going to die. It’s O.K. You are going to die. But why? To me, in my
fuck-slosh of imbalanced chemicals I call a brain, it just seems intrinsically
unfair to not enjoy this. This sea of moment. Essence of life. Forever. I am so attached
to this barrage of familiar, that I realize no matter how much I have faith in
one religion, I’ll eternally be haunted by the unfamiliar. Ahh yes,
intrinsically human.
Every moment you are breathing, you are taking in some of what’s around you. You
walk outside, you are breathing in rock, tree, grass, dirt, and whatever else is
around you.
Let’s cut off a finger of thought though. The term would be Off-gassing. This
very real and apparent danger to society is when certain solids and liquids are
made from products which have materials in them that will readily evaporate,
creating gasses which are extremely carcinogenic.
Suddenly, it goes from trading your car in every year for a brand new one, to
ending up with some rare-ass form of cancer at 45 and wondering why. What you
didn’t realize were all of the dyes in the upholstery, the fixatives for those
dyes, the suspenders for dyes, all the various forms of plastics, and the paints.
Real quick you begin to see how many things in your world are actually unsafe.
Including many plastics used in common daily, household, and work-related items.
Exceedingly toxic items are materials used in building mobile-homes and other
various types of residential units.
But, lets be honest, a lot of us never had a chance. When you were born, you
were instantly placed next to fresh, new, plastic, painted, dyed,
mass-manufactured, and fixatived: toys, linens, and diapers.
Remember that "new car" smell? Poison.
Taking a stroll through the interesting sense-provoking wood section at Lowe’s?
Poison.
Our new technological, sell-fast lifstyle doesn’t appear too utopic to me. We
seem to be the generation to see our parents go through cancers. Perhaps the
generation before me too, it’s not that many years.
The phrase "live life for the now", never seemed so meaningful.
Yeah we will all die. And it’s ok. But damn. Our world is our own toxic soup?
What a shit deal man. I swear, I’d own a damn island. And just live there. But
who can stop it. Im as dead as you. ^_^ But I love this life very much. Just
keep in mind, what you are buying and how you are living. It’s quite common to
underestimate your own death; Or, better yet, to cause it far earlier than was
needed.
And if you aren’t having SOME kind of fun. Atleast you can breathe.
^_^
Apr 8, 2008
As is solving the ever-undemystifiable problem of the incomplete self, would
yield answers.
These days, it’s easy for someone to die and for us to put someone in a grave and
thats it.
Former man would ’understand the dead’, as it were. Keeping The Dead in mind in
daily life, atleast in an idyllic sense.
You are going to die. It’s O.K. You are going to die. But why? To me, in my
fuck-slosh of imbalanced chemicals I call a brain, it just seems intrinsically
unfair to not enjoy this. This sea of moment. Essence of life. Forever. I am so attached
to this barrage of familiar, that I realize no matter how much I have faith in
one religion, I’ll eternally be haunted by the unfamiliar. Ahh yes,
intrinsically human.
Every moment you are breathing, you are taking in some of what’s around you. You
walk outside, you are breathing in rock, tree, grass, dirt, and whatever else is
around you.
Let’s cut off a finger of thought though. The term would be Off-gassing. This
very real and apparent danger to society is when certain solids and liquids are
made from products which have materials in them that will readily evaporate,
creating gasses which are extremely carcinogenic.
Suddenly, it goes from trading your car in every year for a brand new one, to
ending up with some rare-ass form of cancer at 45 and wondering why. What you
didn’t realize were all of the dyes in the upholstery, the fixatives for those
dyes, the suspenders for dyes, all the various forms of plastics, and the paints.
Real quick you begin to see how many things in your world are actually unsafe.
Including many plastics used in common daily, household, and work-related items.
Exceedingly toxic items are materials used in building mobile-homes and other
various types of residential units.
But, lets be honest, a lot of us never had a chance. When you were born, you
were instantly placed next to fresh, new, plastic, painted, dyed,
mass-manufactured, and fixatived: toys, linens, and diapers.
Remember that "new car" smell? Poison.
Taking a stroll through the interesting sense-provoking wood section at Lowe’s?
Poison.
Our new technological, sell-fast lifstyle doesn’t appear too utopic to me. We
seem to be the generation to see our parents go through cancers. Perhaps the
generation before me too, it’s not that many years.
The phrase "live life for the now", never seemed so meaningful.
Yeah we will all die. And it’s ok. But damn. Our world is our own toxic soup?
What a shit deal man. I swear, I’d own a damn island. And just live there. But
who can stop it. Im as dead as you. ^_^ But I love this life very much. Just
keep in mind, what you are buying and how you are living. It’s quite common to
underestimate your own death; Or, better yet, to cause it far earlier than was
needed.
And if you aren’t having SOME kind of fun. Atleast you can breathe.
^_^
Apr 8, 2008
Stark Saturday Blasphemy
I think I'm taken far
less serious now. Like some verocity about my personality has somehow
vanished. Ironically I feel just the opposite on the inside.
I think I'm one of the few people who atleast make some attempt to hang out with the people I stay connected through myspace with. Granted, I slide back. It might be inconvenient at one point. But I cannot recall how many times I post some bulletin, offering free party materials, a place to stay, and some company; and yet it seems as though everyone is so busy. It would only lead one to believe that perhaps no one is as bored as I am. Regardless of validity, in my own head, how would I know different?
Here, another saturday, I wait to get numbed out of my skull. Liquid and smoke completing my dinner of champions. And likewise, an entire packet of smokes, what a night this will be. More writing songs in drunken stupors. Masterpieces of audible art I create with flicks of my fingers, more often than not a drunken I produces quite formidle music. And tonight shall be no different, I callibrate.
And in knowing I would do this, I supposed I would try to invite someone. For I play these songs for no other reason. Except for someone to hear them. Often I end up alone, mics on, guitar revved, tamborine under my feet, ready to blow up the world. Or just fall into it.
Self-medication is beyond overdescribed among people who indulge in counterculter activities. There are millions of kinds of drug users. The person looking for a good time, catching a buzz. The guy down on his luck, 'self-medicating'. And sometimes there are those so stuck on realistic, logical thinking, that rationalization will have them believing it doesn't matter. Because it's easy to feel good if you know there is nothing you can do about the most important things. Selective ignorance. Passive realization. And perhaps the keen sense of opulance.
Expectng more makes me feel undeserving. Like a murderer forgiven by the family. Perfectionism devours my ambitions, though more. Falling short isn't losing the lottery, it is such of nuclear explosions and ailing dreams.
The do or die time is trying. It is looking at us all, I feel, with this expression that says, "I am in control." The utter ignorance that the possibility of bliss is. Some concerns I have dropped completely. As such a thing should happen when we become a bit smarter, or blooms wisdom, or churns innovation. The seeking of enlightenment in this life is all the first stage. And I am nowhere near even that. Im just some dude on a fucking cloud, checking out the scene through the fence.
^_^ haha
Jan 19, 2008
I think I'm one of the few people who atleast make some attempt to hang out with the people I stay connected through myspace with. Granted, I slide back. It might be inconvenient at one point. But I cannot recall how many times I post some bulletin, offering free party materials, a place to stay, and some company; and yet it seems as though everyone is so busy. It would only lead one to believe that perhaps no one is as bored as I am. Regardless of validity, in my own head, how would I know different?
Here, another saturday, I wait to get numbed out of my skull. Liquid and smoke completing my dinner of champions. And likewise, an entire packet of smokes, what a night this will be. More writing songs in drunken stupors. Masterpieces of audible art I create with flicks of my fingers, more often than not a drunken I produces quite formidle music. And tonight shall be no different, I callibrate.
And in knowing I would do this, I supposed I would try to invite someone. For I play these songs for no other reason. Except for someone to hear them. Often I end up alone, mics on, guitar revved, tamborine under my feet, ready to blow up the world. Or just fall into it.
Self-medication is beyond overdescribed among people who indulge in counterculter activities. There are millions of kinds of drug users. The person looking for a good time, catching a buzz. The guy down on his luck, 'self-medicating'. And sometimes there are those so stuck on realistic, logical thinking, that rationalization will have them believing it doesn't matter. Because it's easy to feel good if you know there is nothing you can do about the most important things. Selective ignorance. Passive realization. And perhaps the keen sense of opulance.
Expectng more makes me feel undeserving. Like a murderer forgiven by the family. Perfectionism devours my ambitions, though more. Falling short isn't losing the lottery, it is such of nuclear explosions and ailing dreams.
The do or die time is trying. It is looking at us all, I feel, with this expression that says, "I am in control." The utter ignorance that the possibility of bliss is. Some concerns I have dropped completely. As such a thing should happen when we become a bit smarter, or blooms wisdom, or churns innovation. The seeking of enlightenment in this life is all the first stage. And I am nowhere near even that. Im just some dude on a fucking cloud, checking out the scene through the fence.
^_^ haha
Jan 19, 2008
Tower shields and imperial tunics; Falchions to harm myself with
I want to be psychic.
I miss my childhood friends.
I wish I could cry at all anymore.
I will be someone completely different one day.
I miss the ocean.
I miss love.
I want things which are unattainable.
I see things from skewed perspectives.
Sometimes I want to press stop on this tape.
But I never do.
Im currently trying to piece myself together. As usual.
I already know who I'm to be.
I lose things alot sometimes.
I have the memory of an elephant about certain things.
I have the intellect of a bee about others.
The most advanced medicine has the most basic ingredient.
Ambient music moves my soul beyond words.
Wisdom makes you greater than you are, and deader than you are.
Feb 2, 2007
I miss my childhood friends.
I wish I could cry at all anymore.
I will be someone completely different one day.
I miss the ocean.
I miss love.
I want things which are unattainable.
I see things from skewed perspectives.
Sometimes I want to press stop on this tape.
But I never do.
Im currently trying to piece myself together. As usual.
I already know who I'm to be.
I lose things alot sometimes.
I have the memory of an elephant about certain things.
I have the intellect of a bee about others.
The most advanced medicine has the most basic ingredient.
Ambient music moves my soul beyond words.
Wisdom makes you greater than you are, and deader than you are.
Feb 2, 2007
The laughter had receded.....
The laughter had receded
all too well as we moved closer to the door with bags in hand. The
thick stench of regret had left a less-than-visible green tint on our
place of residence. The dew in the grass now pined for greater places
to hang themselves, as they dried and their enemy the sun would rise
high. We walked on. No more giving looks to the street people pushing
their carts, putting out their cigarettes, and laughing about their
merry failures.
We had considered this place dead. An aqueduct for our pain. The reservoir of what we once knew to be true, but still only kept left to confusion and contempt. As we opened our doors to the chariot that would take us far far from this place, I envisioned you.
A mile away you felt for I could not smell your sweet perfume on the wind any longer. All I saw was the tail of your dress, a mile away, the wind whipping past your windswept hair; and all I could do was laugh, for in this vision I was running towards you. As if you were slipping from me at some unreachable distance on foot. That mile away, too long for the split seconds in my mind you were there. But you are beside of me now. In this car. We are starting the engine and turning the key and not looking back. What we use to know is something shivering and cold, like a small hungry child in the street, in the winter on an empty stomach. You look at me and smile.
"Where will we go?"
I shuffle my feet, ready to apply gas and accept the decisions we so often do.
"Where ever this car will take us."
I lurch forward in this box of metal and wires and plastic and luggage, and make my way to the highway. That rudimentary, redundant monster which can provide you everything or nothing. The greatest love of your life or the deepest horrors of your imagination. New towns will never solve us. We sleep in our problems and live in our glory. All too aware of our faults without confronting them.
I want to write a book. I don't write according to english rules though. I write as it is supposed to read. Suppose I'll care not for the corrections and live for the meaning. Problem #1
+_+
Nov 6, 2006
We had considered this place dead. An aqueduct for our pain. The reservoir of what we once knew to be true, but still only kept left to confusion and contempt. As we opened our doors to the chariot that would take us far far from this place, I envisioned you.
A mile away you felt for I could not smell your sweet perfume on the wind any longer. All I saw was the tail of your dress, a mile away, the wind whipping past your windswept hair; and all I could do was laugh, for in this vision I was running towards you. As if you were slipping from me at some unreachable distance on foot. That mile away, too long for the split seconds in my mind you were there. But you are beside of me now. In this car. We are starting the engine and turning the key and not looking back. What we use to know is something shivering and cold, like a small hungry child in the street, in the winter on an empty stomach. You look at me and smile.
"Where will we go?"
I shuffle my feet, ready to apply gas and accept the decisions we so often do.
"Where ever this car will take us."
I lurch forward in this box of metal and wires and plastic and luggage, and make my way to the highway. That rudimentary, redundant monster which can provide you everything or nothing. The greatest love of your life or the deepest horrors of your imagination. New towns will never solve us. We sleep in our problems and live in our glory. All too aware of our faults without confronting them.
I want to write a book. I don't write according to english rules though. I write as it is supposed to read. Suppose I'll care not for the corrections and live for the meaning. Problem #1
+_+
Nov 6, 2006
flavors of love, seas of paramour.....
Have you ever loved
someone for a whole day? In such a way that you knew it would be
possible for you to love them if given the chance, even though you
never are. Loved everything about them for that period of time? I
totally think it's possibly to. Even if you knew if couldn't work out
for whatever reason, and maybe you want it to. But then you'd just
have to settle on loving them in those moments. I don't mean a
one-night stand, I mean really loving who the person is. Loving their
soul. These are the greatest untold love stories. What if? just what
if? But then aren't we all waiting for our "angel" to come and rescue
them? Out of the blue. Out of the skies. Perfect in everyway, and
waiting there for us like a christmas present under the
tree........there is always more than one "ones" out there for us, it's
all dependent on how much you can give and take. Sacrifice and hoard.
My greatest flaw, loving too much, and never actually attaining love.
Oct 15, 2006
Oct 15, 2006
If you know me....
I've made alot
of mistakes in my life. I am actually OK with that. Mistakes can be
good. You can sometimes get the most rewarding experience just by
having something bad happen to you. Kind of like love, or sometimes
maybe losing a job. All part of that same extreme of an emotional
vein. Again, that bittersweetness.
Fuck the mistakes. Fuck the regrets. Now is my time. For anyone at my age, it is their time. And for people who are older, it was and still MAY BE their time as well. It is your prime, your time to complete and set up the things and goals you want to achieve in your life. And so here we are. It's time to have loud conversations in places I've never been; time to ride in backseats of cars at night with the windows down and my mouth open, singing all of the words; time to drive fast, without regret, towards the only thing you could ever hope to aspire or achieve. Highest possible potential output. A Firecracker. Time to throw change at drunkards sitting in gulleys and alley ways of streets I do not know the name of. Time to play acoustic songs at night on sidewalks covered with people most faithful to being a night owl. Fuck getting change in the case, play to play. Time to write a postcard from a town, not so far away. Maybe then after that, a town very far away. Kiss it, seal a piece of yourself with everything. Never give in to the illision that things aren't possible. That all is lost. That I've completely fallen. A gust under wings ideas are. Time to bleed from some minor cut which happens at the expense of an excellent memory. Forget living. Absorb life. We only "live" in our pasts and in our futures. What about "living" in the present, right now.
Time for taking pictures of first time occurences and remembering them forever. Sweet smells, sad faces, light hearts, and bright lights. All of the imaginations of a dreamer. Complacent in all aspects, BUT consciousness. Time for heavy looks towards strangers I don't know,
in love with the world and it's sad, great possibilities.
Time for eating in some random restaurant across town, glancing out windows wondering, glancing at girls faces. Piercing my eyes, more gazes than one. Content with all of the facts. Kissing the air. Running and shouting. Chasing you in the snow. The mixtures of everything and nothing. The mixtures of you and me, sea air, and straws for our drinks. Forget your sandals on my floorboard, let the sand on your legs dry and flake from your skin. The sun hot but the nights bold with dark and yet swallow my sins. My mistakes.
Drink up this night and wither my days. For our pictures of seas and attendance of plays.
^_^
Sep 11, 2006
Fuck the mistakes. Fuck the regrets. Now is my time. For anyone at my age, it is their time. And for people who are older, it was and still MAY BE their time as well. It is your prime, your time to complete and set up the things and goals you want to achieve in your life. And so here we are. It's time to have loud conversations in places I've never been; time to ride in backseats of cars at night with the windows down and my mouth open, singing all of the words; time to drive fast, without regret, towards the only thing you could ever hope to aspire or achieve. Highest possible potential output. A Firecracker. Time to throw change at drunkards sitting in gulleys and alley ways of streets I do not know the name of. Time to play acoustic songs at night on sidewalks covered with people most faithful to being a night owl. Fuck getting change in the case, play to play. Time to write a postcard from a town, not so far away. Maybe then after that, a town very far away. Kiss it, seal a piece of yourself with everything. Never give in to the illision that things aren't possible. That all is lost. That I've completely fallen. A gust under wings ideas are. Time to bleed from some minor cut which happens at the expense of an excellent memory. Forget living. Absorb life. We only "live" in our pasts and in our futures. What about "living" in the present, right now.
Time for taking pictures of first time occurences and remembering them forever. Sweet smells, sad faces, light hearts, and bright lights. All of the imaginations of a dreamer. Complacent in all aspects, BUT consciousness. Time for heavy looks towards strangers I don't know,
in love with the world and it's sad, great possibilities.
Time for eating in some random restaurant across town, glancing out windows wondering, glancing at girls faces. Piercing my eyes, more gazes than one. Content with all of the facts. Kissing the air. Running and shouting. Chasing you in the snow. The mixtures of everything and nothing. The mixtures of you and me, sea air, and straws for our drinks. Forget your sandals on my floorboard, let the sand on your legs dry and flake from your skin. The sun hot but the nights bold with dark and yet swallow my sins. My mistakes.
Drink up this night and wither my days. For our pictures of seas and attendance of plays.
^_^
Sep 11, 2006
Dead Poems and Fashioned Photographs
While pistols chewed
bullets of cigarette smoke and lipstick, I closed the door to the
helping hand. Better this than the fire-grate of wealth protruded by
witless mishaps. She had seen the better in me, and I had melted the
ocean's seas for better winters upon the shadows. It meant nothing.
For years from now, faces with smiles, seemingly frightened but aware,
would crowd intellect, cherish blame, and curse ambiguity. Lest we
forget, our minds are but -scapes to throw clay upon. The pill had
it's piteous revenge, a blank corner wrenching advice, as if spit had
value. We all call upon angels, of course to be sure, we make them
devils, vice swearing claim upon weak-minded playing cards. Lands which
had seen the war knew nothing of it's beauty. Clues to fantasy had
left stories unsure of their self-awareness. And so remembrances are
Soma, a tab to keep warm, a tab to blink free, a tab for drops of
insomnia gleamingly pure of sodium. Cue the message for immediate
streaming. Seeing through is more important than looking in. Towers
blaze twilight farther than reaching gazes. The haze far worse than any
mice would dare sweep. Mimes pieced together paper houses, forgetting
their streets. A street light for fashioned photographs. And so we
keep to the green-lined streets, capitalist communists; and while we
swore they knew more of gifted children telling wise men tales, our beds
were comfortable with the soft touch of dead poems.
Aug 1, 2006
Aug 1, 2006
Where laughter meets slaughter....
I started to sit up a
long time last night looking over my "friends" profiles. Four cups of
coffee and 5 cigarettes later I come to the realization that many of my
"real" friends have moved or Im not involved with anymore. I miss
them. I miss the connection of being completely free around those
people. The freedom from persecution, from hesitance. Now looking
back, I have come to understand that feeling that free is a thing of
the past. Growing up has alot to do with that. And I am by no means
there, I am just closer than many and behind most. I still have alot
of ways to go.
And STILL even thinking about it, a feeling that free is the freedom of the child. A being not old enough to have a whole variety of skeletons in their closet. A being free from having a conversation feeling hindered because of those lurking underthoughts that are kind of there, and kind of not. In some ways the essence of being ignorant is quite blissful with it's own set of agenda. In some ways all adults are the opposite. We find these holes to put our persecutions of people in, so that we may see the good in them. And then sometimes, just sometimes those persecutions come out to say hello and change your mind in a way that you can't quite describe.
And graduation, walking out that door and into an actual life, instead of a state mandated one, I felt nothing. Nonchalant about anyone I had just completed this accomplishment with. Unaware of which of them would die in the next 5 years, where they'd go, what they would see, who they'd meet, or what they would become. The severance package that comes along with college is just about as good as celery and tabasco sauce. The entrance into a world you may hate or you may love. The people you grow to despise or cherish. Most importantly, the experiences you have. And when it's all said and done with, you can look back, and claim you didn't miss a beat, you were on cue. Or maybe you weren't.
I talk to about 2% of my friend list on a normal basis, that HAS to stop. Involvement can teach, as well as annoy. But annoyance increases patience. So I only lose on the aspect of time, where it is in my favor because of youth. I cannot pretend to know more than I do, nor can I accept showing stupidity when it is not the core of my being. All we can ever do is try. For what? Your guess is as good as mine.
Jul 31, 2006
And STILL even thinking about it, a feeling that free is the freedom of the child. A being not old enough to have a whole variety of skeletons in their closet. A being free from having a conversation feeling hindered because of those lurking underthoughts that are kind of there, and kind of not. In some ways the essence of being ignorant is quite blissful with it's own set of agenda. In some ways all adults are the opposite. We find these holes to put our persecutions of people in, so that we may see the good in them. And then sometimes, just sometimes those persecutions come out to say hello and change your mind in a way that you can't quite describe.
And graduation, walking out that door and into an actual life, instead of a state mandated one, I felt nothing. Nonchalant about anyone I had just completed this accomplishment with. Unaware of which of them would die in the next 5 years, where they'd go, what they would see, who they'd meet, or what they would become. The severance package that comes along with college is just about as good as celery and tabasco sauce. The entrance into a world you may hate or you may love. The people you grow to despise or cherish. Most importantly, the experiences you have. And when it's all said and done with, you can look back, and claim you didn't miss a beat, you were on cue. Or maybe you weren't.
I talk to about 2% of my friend list on a normal basis, that HAS to stop. Involvement can teach, as well as annoy. But annoyance increases patience. So I only lose on the aspect of time, where it is in my favor because of youth. I cannot pretend to know more than I do, nor can I accept showing stupidity when it is not the core of my being. All we can ever do is try. For what? Your guess is as good as mine.
Jul 31, 2006
A Perfect Circumference
After dark's swollen eye opens upon us
the scattered light bleeds our souls into graves
the steadfast dead, an audience for eternity
we play our songs for no payment to the ferryman
The littered water's refractions take no second look
Their ripples reward walls, their faces luminescent
Mutations stalking will seeming prevelant
We sell our souls for no payment to the ferryman
Tin-plated angels, compilated past unfounded
Regret of 60 years finally sounded
Stattered, stuck sorry breaking state
beyond time and behind the mask of fate
my endearments consolation to collapse
the folding, golden temperament must relapse
Feb 5, 2006
the scattered light bleeds our souls into graves
the steadfast dead, an audience for eternity
we play our songs for no payment to the ferryman
The littered water's refractions take no second look
Their ripples reward walls, their faces luminescent
Mutations stalking will seeming prevelant
We sell our souls for no payment to the ferryman
Tin-plated angels, compilated past unfounded
Regret of 60 years finally sounded
Stattered, stuck sorry breaking state
beyond time and behind the mask of fate
my endearments consolation to collapse
the folding, golden temperament must relapse
Feb 5, 2006
The Blog to End All Blogs
I've spent my entire
life listening to music. Anymore, I don't really know what songs I
want to hear. I find it hard to put my finger on one particular moment
that a song might fit, something that use to come so easily. It seems
that as many ways as there are to have thought processes, there just
aren't that many ways to live. You can think in colors, words,
metaphors, pictures, and tons of other ways. But you can't live in
those ways. You can't live in dreams. You can't live in beautiful
moments. You can't experience something as beautiful as you would like
it to be experienced. You can only live. You can only expect the
worst or expect the best. Taking a chance everyday simply by walking
out of your front door. We now live in a world overrun by not
thinking. Mediocrity is king. The things which made something so
special and so sacred to one individual is now tarnished and burnt.
Now we only have dreams. The dream of one day being completely
comfortable and without struggle. A dream that is still just a dream.
Now, it is pointless to be abstract. You are the dog being thrown
into the middle of the ocean. When is it that you will tire out with
no land to swim to and die? When is it when you will reach the highest
peaks of your individual glory and contently fold to the hands of
time? For most that will never come. A very smart person once said,
"To be is to live. To dream is to be a fool." There are no true
answers to any abstract questions. You can't expect anything less from
something as unreliable as humans. We are beings that relentlessly
toil on the superiority of ourselves. Constantly trying to prove who's
dick is bigger. In the end there is no salvation. Each person dies
and goes out believing what they wanted to believe. All of their
thoughts, desires, needs, now never existed. They are gone. It
suddenly occurs to me that involving the importance of human life, one
person is nothing. One is really nothing. Only when we are confronted
by massive numbers of human death are we even shaken a bit. And even
then it is only an event. There are some out there trying their
damnedest to stop it. But that just simply goes against nature. It is
natural to die, whether you die naturally or not. It is natural to
exist and then not exist. Because it is cycle. Something this world
prides itself on. There use to be so many ideas and images and
experiences I craved for the mere sake of beauty. To have something
which has no meaning. Beauty has no meaning. Simply an object of
adoration. How depressing to realize that your greatest desire is
meaningless. I use to search for those moments of beauty in life so
hard. But my searching is done. I realize that you can't find them.
They don't exist. You can only think them. And in that mode of
thinking, you are living apathetically. It's like always looking on
the bright side of things, apathetic. Whether not admitting it makes
someone feel better or not, it's apathetic, as is always taking the
negative side. Every thinker and philosopher tries to justify
themselves in any way, shape, or form. But thinking on any one path is
leaving crucial elements of other paths out. The mind is always in a
box. Because even thinking outside the box is still inside the box.
I've come to believe that everything is indescribable. The words we
use are symbols to denote things. They DO NOT define things. One day
might be windy to one person and breezy to another. Even the words I
use to write this sentence and the ones before it cannot truly describe
what I think or feel. They can only give a piece, and shady, jaded
piece of what I truly try my best to express. I honestly don't know
what I wanted this blog to be. Perhaps I just needed to say
somethings. There are so many moments where I am just out of words, I
have nothing to say. Maybe this was simply the catching up of that.
Regardless of order, regardless of conciseness, it still has no direct
meaning. Kind of like life.
Nov. 25, 2005
Nov. 25, 2005
Sometimes.....
There is nothing worse
than having the satisfaction of knowing you were wrong. Sometimes you
want something bad, really bad. And time passes, and you keep
wanting. So you begin to develop ideas of how it might be to have what
you want. Playing with all the do's and don'ts of your desire. And,
sometimes, eventually, you get it. But sometimes it isn't at all what
you wanted. Or you wanted it, but not like it came to you. Like
getting to finally have that Ferrari you always wanted parked in your
garage, except you can never drive it. and so, Sometimes, you just
have to say fuck it. Live under your desires. Cut off what you really
want. Breath in the poisoned air. And then you might ask yourself,
do I still really want it? Sometimes, just sometimes, I would have to
say that I do.
How can you tell yourself not to jump at what you crave for? How can you take someone else's advice when you know in your own mind that what they're saying doesn't fully apply to your situation? You simply can't. Because being human won't let you. And if you can, then you've reached some level of enlightenment. Congrats. But that little spoiler wont stop you from regretting. Nothing can. Because if you hold no regrets, then anything you've ever lost was never valuable to you. And that's the truth of the matter. When you lose something you love more than yourself, you will regret, and if nothing at all, you'll at least regret lost time. Because that's something we are all losing to.
Fuckshit,
Corey
Oct 18, 2005
How can you tell yourself not to jump at what you crave for? How can you take someone else's advice when you know in your own mind that what they're saying doesn't fully apply to your situation? You simply can't. Because being human won't let you. And if you can, then you've reached some level of enlightenment. Congrats. But that little spoiler wont stop you from regretting. Nothing can. Because if you hold no regrets, then anything you've ever lost was never valuable to you. And that's the truth of the matter. When you lose something you love more than yourself, you will regret, and if nothing at all, you'll at least regret lost time. Because that's something we are all losing to.
Fuckshit,
Corey
Oct 18, 2005
A Smile on Something New
A smile on something
new... So much time had passed. But I knew these times were coming.
The times when you explode from your center and jump into life. Ride
in cars with your windows down and take in the scenery and breathe in
the air. The time when you shed your insecurities and go forth. And
all of the perfect people are there to do this with. Every wheel is in
place. Every cog on balance. It's like clockwork. Not so far away
are those moments where new pictures breath life into my memories.
What has happened was only the primer for what will become, and for a
new roller coaster of growth and loss. I am breathing in, and
exhaling. Taking my every a possible moment to enjoy, learn, and live.
Now is the time to foster knowledge, to achieve the dreams your are on
the path to achieving. I take a glance at the steps preceding the
ones I am standing on. I laugh every time a thought lies on what it
took to get here. Whats funnier is the time. Who knew where it went.
It dissipated like lens flares in sunset camera-work. The sun
shines on the moments now. It's all an adventure. Like having a full
tank of gas and driving where your finger falls on the map. Always some
new mistake to laugh at; always another film to go and see. More
memories. Better relationships. More money. Less fighting. More
production. Soft kisses. Cool weather. Everything in the world is
already there. It was never there to achieve, just to be. The fun of
it all is just to get to it. To truly surpass yourself. To go beyond
what you had thought you were made of. To seek beneath the level and
out of the box. To truly commit to a place of being, and forgiving the
misgivings. It's life. It's that one little thing. That one thing
that says, "This is it, this is you, you have to run. You have to
chase it. GO!!" You have to chase it. It's yours.
Sep 5, 2005
Sep 5, 2005
Ramblings of a Borderline Personality Disorder
Honestly, looking in the
mirror will make you more of a man/woman than anything. It always
seems like it's those times we stop and examine ourselves, can we know
even more about others around us. Or sometimes the opposite.
Sometimes, we bottom out and become something we always were, we had
just denied it the whole time. We finally accept what or who we are
and understand that unless we break our backs to do so, there is
technically no changing it. Sometimes, we journey out, putting our
throats on the table, and unsuspectingly get it cut. We make
assumptions leading nowhere but to our own ignorance and
self-unawareness. We live in many worlds at once while it's occupants
only perceive one. It's quite easy to forget the focus of your life
while constantly focusing on the extremities of modern society.
Often, we are crumbled by something. We wait in the dark searching for
light, only to take a step and discover there isn't floor where there
once was, only other various sized holes. At times, our heads are in
the clouds and we could give beauty to a nation. We implode upon our
inner-self with vast expressions of meaningful thoughts. Even at times
of great elation, there is a constant nagging feeling somewhere within.
It cannot be remedied. It is like when you are enjoying yourself and
something always happens to screw it up, the feeling rears it's ugly
head and you are left with disdain. A kind of bitterness untouched by
the better side of you. Out of all of this comes resolution. You begin
to go over your dreams, again and again, until you are so focused on
what will happen after that instead of just getting there. Sometimes
our hearts spread in so many directions that even taking a path seems
pointless. There is always something you'll leave behind and miss, a
part of yourself you cannot deny, yet cannot envelope yourself within.
There are too few hours in the day to accomplish what you want, like a
man who has been stabbed crawling on his stomach to a hospital only 300
yards, simply not enough time. There is no general meaning to life.
Nor can there ever be. We all are just beings of light and movement
constantly re-evaluating our present situation to adapt to our
experiences. We build conceptual realms within ourselves to further
progress our individual ambitions and wishes, never (even if we do
something for another out of kindness) do we try to further progress
the whole. Even charities are benefiting a specific section of this
populated rock. There are never really answers to anything of which
can be certain. Only possibilities spiraling within a constant
preparation that we create. Facts are points of views from states of
mind pertaining to specific concepts and environments. Opinions are
the only truth short of adhering one's self to an idea. Marriage,
commitment, love, hate, they are all ideas, bred to try to explain how
hormones and enzymes react within us. Modern science is hardly capable
of explaining the brain fully, as it still has little concrete
information. Sex is a drug we use to deepen our assumptions of a
relationship, even if the relationship is of very little substance.
Rarely are there instances of pure expression and expressive peace
coming from us. For to live that way would outcast the individual from
his/her peers. A constant reminder to live.
May 10, 2005
May 10, 2005
Typical
Treading loudly upon
footsteps, printing omniscient sand flakes upon faces of dandelions.
Ill-fated attempts is where they lye, and when they are through, the
sun swallows them. Completely, extrovertly, tragic, are the subjective
views of such. Those who would contend wish for ground bones while
they receive full-circle rainbows colored with pastels from puzzle
boxes. Their drawers ornately drawn, appearing as it two-dimensional,
yet brings shades of stained-glass and windpipes. The beats of sound
which spring forth would materialize in implosions in the ocean, the
rapid interjections all too synchronous. Triangle will accept square
when it's composition becomes aware, but then again, why so arbitrary?
Are the despised not respected, yet still, as someone who is
despicable? Dreamers have desire in the left hand, perfection on the
mind, and fantasy in the right hand; as utter irony would have it, all
in vain. If one were to take every graceful/beautiful moment in
his/her life and condense it onto a tape, he/she would have the length
of a modern feature film. ¿Typical
Feb 25, 2005
Feb 25, 2005
Philosophy twinged with Bullshit
I had felt at ease with
the sudden comfort that I had been lying to myself. Usually, drastic
measures might've been taken to avoid this, but as of late, this is
false. There is no such thing as a comfortable numbness, at least when
you're not high. I don't smoke pot anymore. The legal system felt
that it would interject my self-indulgence of something to ease my
isolation with entertainment. After a while, you feel unabridged in
some kind of strange completeness. Not like a veil being lifted, but
like looking at things systematically instead of arbitrarily or with a
calm mellowness. There seems to be more order, but to a person who is
at the opposition of order (left-handed as hell) it only works to other
people's confines and not my own. Eventually you come to the
realization that people aren't really people and reality isn't really
reality. The truth is this lies in the fact that a person's mind
conjuring up a hallucination is no different than it actually
happening. Why? Because your body knows no difference. Therefore,
life could just as well be called a lucid dream, not in actuality but in
metaphor. To all of time, our lives are dreams, little pieces of
nothings that fade out, except we don't get the glory of something so
beautiful that the star does, the nova. If we do, it lies in our
realizations before we die, and that's even taking into consideration
that we make it that far. Most die before their time, never even
knowing the spoils of the emaculate endorsement wisdom offers. But in
truth, wisdom, like all things, is subjective and can never be truly
accounted for. No matter which way you measure it. All of life is
simply particles bouncing and playing out an existence, if the world
hasn't shown much, it has at least shown us that. We think we are so
advanced when really only our technology is, ancient Greeks were just
as advanced as we are. The tragedy is that most never aim nor acheive
their true potential, it isn't something to care enough about,
supposedly. Then again if we live to actually LYE on our death beds,
we finally understand that we wished we would have. You can just smell
the irony in that one. People with a love for history claim that
it's important to know so that we do not make the same mistakes again.
These people are hypocrites and obviously have not picked up what has
happened over time. The human race has illustrated that it does repeat
the same mistakes, after all, we are beings of repetition. The only
living thing escaping this cliche are a form of subatomic particles
which move at random, always and forever, until they dissipate.
Collectively, the only truth, is untruth. It matters not whether
opinions differ between two or agree among millions, it all spawns from
one or either simultaneously (or very close to it, mind you) a few and
then spreads. Although, this is by no means the only way ideas spawn or
come into place. The many cultures of the world pride themselves on
their customs, but then are reluctant to be open minded to others.
Simply put, they are too blind to realize that truth IS based upon
culture as with morality and all the other things so many hold so close
to their hearts without acceptance of others beliefs. Noone ever said
they had to accept them for truths, but just live with the fact that
someone believes differently. Perhaps this is what has kept us at a
gradually declining point in human civilization. The constant struggle
among one another. They miss the point that, today, it is no longer a
matter of defending territories for a herd of buffalo, but a matter of
importing and exporting what your lands already have and produce.
Yet, as with all humans it is instinct that drives us to attempt to
supersede one another in an endless spiral of no progress. That is why
like all species and like all human civilizations of time, the human
race will die out. If evolution would have it, we will be reborn again
one day. Individual truth, Individual spirit, Individual mind. The
mouse WILL destroy the lion.
Feb 24, 2005
Feb 24, 2005
She May Very Well Cost Me the War.....
She had been passed eyes
from a mother of formidable opinions, a constant reminder to never
chew with her mouth open. Sentiments broke through and palpated the
black mass fronting as a heart imposter. It was never chance that
endorsements of personality ever escaped her grasp. A foe could even
sense the aroma of sudden virtues stingingly accurate in their
portrayal of a young woman. Her senses were cleansed by salt-water,
left for the sun to be her falling star in a world all too needy of
heat; the grasping of warmth (a sin) to cause explosions within hail
storms. Had her ego been reluctant to hesitate, the outcome would
have assuredly been disasterous. It was stolen by hands reaching into
themselves for fingers too ingrained in wanting. The pockets continue
to increase in depth, yet weaken in strength. Her considerations fared
well upon the sea of mountains. Could we suppose she had ended too
early, forgotten too soon? Or spied eagerly, and thus being resilient of
humble remarks, grew to the faint whispers drowned by screams in
locked drawers? -to my infatuations and the luck that their
ambitions are not mine LOVE IS PATHOS
Feb 20, 2005
Feb 20, 2005
The Smoker's Lounge
I have always found the
idea of a cigarette, romantic in specific ways. The flame consuming the
finely-cut pieces of tobacco, as they twist and char, like a knotted
tree being taken by the flame. The paper receding as if sworn to
uphold a dying nature, all too reminiscent of perennials. As the drag
closes it's proceeds, the lips part, leaving a string of smoke to
dissipate into thin air in an act of finality. If there were to be a
smoker's lounge, the vibe might be club-like, yet calm. The people
there would introduce themselves by, in some way, either offer or
asking for a cigarette. No grand gestures to be made, the simplicity
would overwrite tendencies to be rash or lewd. The place wouldn't be
completely filled with smoke. There would just be casual conversations
and meetings hanging on the smoking of a cigarette at leisure. Not
only for smokers either, however the usual nonsmoker probably wouldn't
come to a place like this. I don't know where this idea came from.
I suppose it's another contraption I toy with inside of my head.
Feb 15, 2009
Feb 15, 2009
Life.....rant by someone....me
In life we often float,
encapsulating what we decide are good moments and memories. We may walk
outside on a windy day to discover leaves blowing across pavement has a
marvelous sound to it, or the way a certain tree sways with the breeze
appears completely interesting in a subtle way. Sometimes we struggle
so hard to find what we hold so dear to us, only to reveal that we feel
betrayed and have been misled. Who could deny two beautiful crying
eyes? Only a Nazi in a death camp, or someone completely indifferent.
Sometimes we find it so easy to get lost within things. We get so lost,
that sometimes, it takes something horrible to bring us back. And
sometimes, when we're lucky, something great. Only there to show us
what we truly care about. I think why some people overreact and why
some people react adversely to things that happen to them is because
there is such honesty in these things that we get lost in. Such
complete honesty. We always tend to believe that what we as individuals
mean so much, only to be told that groups are what is important.
Perhaps I'm wrong in saying no. Individuals in groups incite madness.
If one INDIVIDUAL goes on a tangent, the group mentality makes it
almost 3 times as possible for another to get outlandish ideas and
follow through with them. Kinda of like a mosh pit, everything is kosher
until the first guy throws a punch. I think it takes something as
plain and bland as the internet to do away with this, because in
actuality people are different when it comes to text. It may be their
real selves, or it may be plagiarism, but people change. Another part
of them emerges, to the point that even groups on the internet have
individuals whom discriminate themselves from thousands. In this world
everything is unknown to us and we pretend that we really understand it
all. The world's leading psychologists don't even know what parts of
our brains do, therefore how can we expect to truly know ourselves, we
don't even know our bodies. Some say that science can only go so far
and then comes god, but i believe that science can only go so far and
then comes intellect. So the next time you ever commit an action,
experience any emotion, or simply breath, just remember that each
moment is just a place, a time, and a fading existence of what you now
know. "Claiming something unknown merely assures and provides
undeniable proof of it's presence." - Corey McLauchlin
Feb 11, 2005
Feb 11, 2005
Some Will Never Know the Pain of Desire
Some will never know the
pain of desire. As the writers of 'The Beach' put it, "The sun will
not bleach it, nor the tides wash it away". The people who know this
best are the people who are never satisfied, for they are the ones who
know the frustration of always having to wonder, 'What could have
been?' The curious wonder/desire burns deep. Down to the core.
Inside and around everything you know. It can consume you, and make
you writhe in anger sometimes. You begin to lament for joy, and
reflect on times where you could have made better decisions. Times
when it would have negated the having to wonder had you just went a
different path. The secrets of the world are meant for no one person.
We each have our own little piece. I just wish at least some could
look at the finished puzzle and be oblivious to the specifics of each
individual piece. Kind of makes you wish for a blanket to shield you
from everything happy, so that maybe you could learn every lesson, wrong
every right, and fill every hole in your heart.
Feb. 11, 2005
Feb. 11, 2005
In a Rush to Chill
Star-stating epiphany is
melancholy for moons lamenting of lost orbitals. A breach for
consistent loves lost. Consolidation founding grievances cold-shut for
Winter's age. Breathe a possibility's fortune told life. Forget
complacency.
Jan. 31, 2005
Jan. 31, 2005
This is What Goes On In My Mind
Originally Posted on Monday, 10 January 2011 at 05:14
I begin to question. Simply question the foundation of my very beliefs. It's all blond on these isles. Therefore the prospect of other lands appeals, without a doubt, to the slightest inclination of me finding a place to get lost. And I shall.
I've had enough with starry-eyed, smoke-filled rooms and the laugh that they were real when I was in them. Playing jazz and acting smart. We all become liars and we all become angels.
As Godspeed had said,
"We're all trapped in the belly of this horrible machine, and the machine is bleeding to death. The sun has fallen down and the billboards are all leering, and the flags are all dead at the top of their poles.¹"
I could pretense my reasoning no better. It was useless to breathe.
The solace idolized by the id may never be found. Struggles of light and dark in constancy. Golden-lined coffins. The unfortuitous scream of mother nature. How did I laugh so easily? When you let everything just slide off of your back, out of neglect, when is it important again? When does the reel change? Or maybe you just can't. Maybe it just looks like a damaged landscape painting. All the right colors, and no discrepancy for geography. A pious brushstroke.
I could fall into it like a daydream or a fever.
I begin to question. Simply question the foundation of my very beliefs. It's all blond on these isles. Therefore the prospect of other lands appeals, without a doubt, to the slightest inclination of me finding a place to get lost. And I shall.
I've had enough with starry-eyed, smoke-filled rooms and the laugh that they were real when I was in them. Playing jazz and acting smart. We all become liars and we all become angels.
As Godspeed had said,
"We're all trapped in the belly of this horrible machine, and the machine is bleeding to death. The sun has fallen down and the billboards are all leering, and the flags are all dead at the top of their poles.¹"
I could pretense my reasoning no better. It was useless to breathe.
The solace idolized by the id may never be found. Struggles of light and dark in constancy. Golden-lined coffins. The unfortuitous scream of mother nature. How did I laugh so easily? When you let everything just slide off of your back, out of neglect, when is it important again? When does the reel change? Or maybe you just can't. Maybe it just looks like a damaged landscape painting. All the right colors, and no discrepancy for geography. A pious brushstroke.
I could fall into it like a daydream or a fever.
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