The final stand

The lights revealed the size of the arena we chose to meddle. Our eyes revealed the caliber of the characters we resolved to mock. Our hands held the tools that we had crudely shaped from dirt, our feet revealed the shoes that had been cruelly shaped by work. In our gaze we saw defeat masqueraded as "the opposition". Our hearts harbored hope in a resolve of resignation. before us stood the conductor, and he readied us to play. We knew the time was then, so we scared the fear away.

We played our instruments at the urging of the conductor, producing discordant tunes of clanging and cracking. We rallied round the symbol, danced to the tuneless cymbal, stared in share defiance and charged to the highest note. The conductor reinforced our confidence as he boldly lead from the front. What manner of man will stand for the rogue orchestra that plays a soulful earsoar. Life was what we gave and life was what we got.

We laughed through that questionable and most trying moment. We created an ugly masterpiece, and that picture changed us. We saw the audience scream, close their ears and duck for cover. We were instigated by hate, but justified by love. We stood in columns and rows, and fell in rows and columns. We played like a single orchestra, and countered the orchestra's single. As the nuisance of our noise was silenced by "real" music, we hoped that our stand will soon surpass its sin. We smiled and basked in the triumph of our defeat. We lived to sin no less, and slept to sin no more.

between the page and the pen

If intent dictated efficiency, Tanzania will today be Utopia. The finest men are lost between the page and the pen, that microsecond kill zone has trashed the best of us: Cantor, Nietzsche, Garvey, Mao, they saw but could not draw. Having something to say with no way to say it is best likened to an imprisoned gypsy. First you see now you dont, well actually its they who dont. Cursed be the less dynamic mind. Revolutionary theories have always been synonymous with the abstract so we might as well be reading all the diaries of a destitute drunk. More often than not the theorist is destitute and drunk , we either redefine theory or reconsider "junk".

Between the pen and the page the greatest warriors have fallen. One tried to explain the possibility of multiple infinities while the other declared God was dead. These assertions apparently just came out wrong as this was not exactly what they saw in their head. But as they picked up that pen with intent to put glory on paper something somewhere became less representational. Thus a supposed "great leap forward" became the "greatest travel backwards", something died between the page and the pen.

The complexity of nurturing an idea from inception to its birth is one we will never fully come to appreciate. We get blinded by possibilities and fail to see the irony, like driving a prius right up to your private jet. It is almost as pathetic as a pandering politician that picks his pride from leading in the polls.
Corruption of the worst is at worst barely an event, but the compromise of an idealist is at best a global catastrophe. Between the page and the pen there have been many global catastrophes.

priorities

I see the sand, an hour glass and a crippled sun. the persistence of the night has birthed a crippled son ... No vitamin D and no thrills of a fresh day, just darkness, only night and no one writes in fake light. I see the implosion of the meek, the explosion of the obstinate, the enthronement of a recluse and a rowdy church service. The stillness of the night is nicked away by lost praises, but the "praisers" have long lost the lonely link to whom they praised.

They said it was me. I said it was I, so the search for the primary culprit was reduced to a debate on semantics. We then wrangled in a "complex" battle of intellectual wits, with each side making no headway in seeking to establish exactly "what the queen would have said". With a completely extinguished sun and a strangely malnourished child, it was justified and right to ensure that what we did was right and we could only confirm the right by proving just who said it right. They said it was me. I said it was I, now the real issues and accusations have faded into the pitch black sky ... At least a major mystery that has tailed us for eternity will finally be put to rest: "How exactly would the queen have said it" will no longer be a pest.

The central question is no longer "who" but how to point "who" out. Political correctness and etiquette now holds center piece to major problems. "All must be heard in the great debate of me and I", but its pointless right now because the malnourished kid just died. "Never mind and dont be bothered about that random dead son, there will be plenty more to instigate the debate wherever that one came from. We also have the other trivial issue of a completely extinguished sun, we should address if the S should be written in capital whenever the former debate is done".

FOR THE LOVE OF A FOUND CITY

For the love of this found city I will never be lost, but since its a lost city I can never be found ... J.Town ... I put it first cause its the place of my birth, a rare rocky resting spot, the place of my curse. I did it for the city and the city did it for me, memories of going to to church with my mom and family ... I loved it with my brothers, with my friends and with my Cuz, but what was most important was it was all about love.

Slowly but surely change began to show, the industrial bedrock sadly began to slow. We witnessed the miracle of perfect economic mismanagement and the souls of the people was ground like mince meat. The despicable despots in government doused the dieing city in diesel, dough a really deep ditch and dumped the people in the evil ... J.town is burning ... the fire just killed my brother, the city is in flames and it just consumed my mother ... The masses are then manipulated to turn against each other, people then head to war for religion and for colors. Allah Akbar is responded to with a hail Mary, now the fanatics are all headed to hell to get married ... The cries of ARO are swiftly answered with AYE and the axes are getting clapped while the baggars are getting hacked ... The birds, Buckets and 2-2s are getting firmly established, while the system tells the system that it is being "childish" ... The streets are now tainted with the bruvz of my blood, and all this is actually happening in the city that I love

The spot is heating up but its cold outside, we have been sold these bloody lies for our whole damn lives ... dry your eyes young Josite for tonight we die, but my head stands high so i can die with pride ... Keep your weapons in cock, tonight we blast to the top ... Destination ASO ROCK but rayfield is our first stop. BANG !! BANG !! BANG !! ... oh that's the sound of the door bell ... This time the visitor is not here to rob you of your rights, instead he is here to draw you into a fight for what is right ... Now I march in mental sync with the bruvz of my blood, determined to salvage what is left of this city that I love ...

how then can we be free ?

How then can we be free? How can we live in complete mental harmony ? How can we brake the shackles of shame showered by guilt of senseless sin ? The burden of sense is so severe that we are senseless deep within. How can we take the trouble of tasks and turn them into triumph ? How can The tic and the tock of the ticktock clock seize to be our foe? How can we live our lives like ... How then can we be free ?

"freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose"-Janis Joplin ... "Freedom is nothing else but a chance to be better"- Albert Camus ... "Freedom is the last, best hope of earth"- Abraham Lincoln ... "Freedom is the right to live as we wish" Epictetus ... "freedom is the secret of happiness and courage is the secret of freedom"-Thucydides ... "freedom is the absence of obstacles to the realization of desires"- Bertrand Russell ... "freedom is the will to be responsible to ourselves"-Fredric Nietzsche ... "freedom is the right to tell people what they do not want to hear"- George Orwell ... Free is what we are not . How then can we be free ?

In order to attain the true tenants of freedom we must first determine its meaning. In order to establish the meaning of freedom we must resolve the meaning of meaning. These confusing concepts might be a concocted conspiracy, or maybe it just is what it is ... Or perhaps it actually is what it was and history is nothing but the present. Thus the future will actually be nothing but the past and nothing will be established because nothing always lasts but we still have to come back to the basic fundamental task and ask: How then can we be free ?

On the theater floor

I stand on the theater floor distanced from actors and their acting. Wonder why i am here when all i do is stare. Bugged by the blatant disconnect between the setting and the plot, Wait for my cue, now am up!, then i stop ... LINE !! ... "For the last time Owi you dont have any lines to say, just stand like a social psycho and dont get in the way". What !!!

That arogant ignoramus cheaply sculpted piece of clay, was what I thought of the director as i spoke to that AK. The menacing mad metal mocked my human intonations, apparently clearly stating this was his play for the making. Wait, who is in charge ? the metal or the people ? maybe the peoples metal better yet the metal people. Thus we word no more in words but in the language of the whip, and we whipped ourselves to living in a whirlwind such as this. The night issues in the nocturnal knife wielders, while the day brings the day-walking criminal state slingers. Some politics for a piece and a piece for some politics, pictured in the imperfections of this picture perfect prison. Police with bloodied batons holding roses and a gun, battering man as beast as they seek to maintain the "Piece".

Vicious voices of vein are crowned by virtue of their vice, rewarded with my soul, with my sweat and my life. The protagonist is now as antagonistic as it gets, and the antagonist is ummm ....... no comment ... One thing has been made clear in absolute abundance: My role is absolutely established and its absolutely redundant.

DEAR SPRING: dedicated to a random potato pants

My dear Spring,

Its been less than half a season since we last saw, but i must say that it feels a little longer than eternity. Pardon my hyperbole and my exaggerated depictions. Pardon my cheezy one liners and my less than romantic tendencies. I trust that this letter finds you in the best of health, and I can picture your mild but still imposing smile, like the splendid and yet still very imposing Nile.

Summer is almost passed and fall will soon be upon us. I just pray that it passes fast so that earth can reunite us. I miss your perfect temperature, those 60 degree days, you are the embodiment of moderation in any and every way. I wish i didn't have to be reminded of the existence of extremes, with the dark winter -20s and the summer 115s. I wish i didn't have to be reminded that the extreme will almost always attack the mean. That's why you are only two out of the twelve months of the year, that's why we are the only two that actually seem to care.

Being with you appears to be the only thing that can get the clock moving. All of a sudden a day starts to feel shorter than a minute. Then you are gone in less than an hour and all I am thinking is that I miss it ... But now the clock is no more ticking because you are no more here, and I will have to wait another long and painful whole other year ...

I will see you again after a painfully long wait, A wait that we never know if we will be able to take ... I want you to cry me a river while i bottoms up a crate, and let us leave the rest of our destinies entirely to fate ...

In the mean time all we have are the memories of each other, and we must fall back on the experience of the times we spent together ... Perhaps if it doesn't kill us it might actually make us tougher, who am i kidding please "kill me now - Your insane lover" :)

NO POSTCARDS FROM HELL

A very big man but actually pretty small, at least goes out of his way to convince most that he is tall ... An incredibly smart fool, a uselessly sophisticated tool, In the middle of winter, An Olympic sized out door pool ... A representative of certain (in)actions, derived from sad, radical and misguided factions, drowning in invincibility, will probably burn down an entire town just to be the center of attraction. An inharmonious symphony of irritating screams and bells, and absolutely no postcards from hell.

A boy, a girl, a boy girl and a girl boy ... taboo .. A who that chooses to dictate the truth ... you ... A smoothly rough process that uneducates the schools ... another fool and a bunch of very sophisticated tools ... A bruise ... left uncared is like an open fuse, and a crawling curious baby with a serious point to prove ... Perhaps a move in the wrong direction with the right ideas to sell, might actually be responsible for us receiving absolutely no postcards from hell

Brainwashed to communicate in the language of dead presidents, ignoring all the hungry and the half dead residents... Fed with all the crappy half-baked and half dead intent ,,, Should be nominated for an Oscar for the all scars and half pretense ... Repent !! .. for what ? frankly i dont see the sense ... Never fasted during Ramadan and munching right through Lent ... At least feeling kind of ashamed for a life less than well spent ... Even with all this drama there is still so little to tell ? .. and still getting absolutely no postcards from Hell.

these walls

These walls dont speak .. remaining silent and mum even when being spoken to, they maintain a glorious hush and uphold a sophisticated touch. Theses walls aren't much, if you see them them as such ... Often the perception is "well its just a wall", well its a very just wall because these walls have seen it all. From the Castles of the kings to the slums of the bums these walls are standing tall and you can knock down one or two but these walls will never fall.

These walls were there ... from the assassination of Lincoln to the imprisonment of Malcolm theses walls can bare ... witness ... these walls dont care, from the destruction of civilizations to the eruption of world powers they just stand and stare. These walls are fair, from the OJ not guilty blunder to the Hitler evasion of justice they just prefer ... to remain neutral ... These walls are rare, even though they are everywhere watching everything we do, they cant be compared ... to anything on planet earth.

these walls dont hide, they thrive in a humbly arrogant pride. These walls have a unique characteristic of being harshly benign. There is strict code of discipline within which these walls abide. You can say whatever the hell you want but these walls wont try ... When the blatant truth is being shamefully denied, they just stand and laugh because these wall dont lie. The most dominant question asked by these walls is why, the most dominant action is just to cry. As we slide down the abyss on this abysmal ride, perhaps we should be more like these walls and start asking why

Save Me

Save me from the Disaster that i call my thoughts: A comical juxtaposition of incompatible concepts depicted somewhat as an eulogy to a still living eulogist.

Save me from my stupidity, my ignorance and Folly: They sneak up on me cleverly masked as logic, compassion and sense. I`m starting to think that Mr stupid is not that stupid after all. He has managed to promote his interests within every sphere of life while Mr wisdom has barely been able to convert a single follower.

Save me from elitism and the anal elitist culture: A culture propagated by a bunch of empty condescending pigs. Pigs who speedily define themselves as better than the others, Pigs who fervently defend the assertion that some men are significantly more equal than others.

Save me from the haters, the fakes and the phonies: I never really got what i was suppose to catch in the Rye but i believe there is a universal consensus that all the phonies truly must die. Those two faced fake smiling white snakes in the snow, bringing confusion, destruction and pain every single place that they go.

Save me from the life that appears to be embracing me: That 1st degree, then 9-5 then maybe latter masters degree formula. I rebuke you from my presence oh ye devil of boring convention, I firmly reject and admonish that foul spirit of conformity. Let me run wild and let my soul be free. Please let me live and not be lived for

before I sleep

Now I am caught in this horrifying daymare and I just want to sleep, escape from tragedies that make me weep. Its funny cause all through the night I couldn't wait to wake, but now the exact reverse is the case. Somebody knock me out, take my wallet, my watch and my keys, just put me out of my reality: no such luck, where is a mugger when you really need one, living a daymare is far from fun. I am trapped in a vicious circle constantly trying escape, Now its before i sleep and 1st it was before i wake, how much more can I really take.

I see a live mom who is obviously dead inside, surrounded by her kids who appear to be to sad to cry, i see the hunger and frustration deep down in their eyes and the only thing I am thinking is why. The reality of my daymare is abstractly graphic, i cannot properly describe using the best descriptive tactics, but trust me i will try to go as far as a can, i advice that you sit and not stand: Picture a crippled mare swimming through a lake of fire surrounded by piranhas trapped in their cells of stone. Now in the horizon you see the place the mare calls home, she swims through the burning lake and she is barely grown. Just when its looking like she might make it through, the stone cells open up and the piranhas start to chew. Then the tides start to rise and she is droning inside then the only question that pops through my head is "why". At this point the scene really starts to take its toll, then you look towards her home and see five of her foals. Some people have been made to trade fire for gold, while others gold for fire while they fire their souls.

To end this daymare i must put me to sleep, i need something quick, effective and still kind of cheap. I pop the first sleeping pill, then two and then three, stagger to the bedroom and then collapse on the sheets, as start to fade to black i see me back on my feet, this bloody vicious circle is one i cant beat. I feel used, abused, tired and thirsty, say a prayer before i pass out "dear lord please have mercy".

The green mans burden

The night sets at dawn, shadowy blanket creeps away ... Another day and less a dollar, another way to be more a victim: the green mans burden. Who will ease the load ? The saddest story ever known has never really been told. He fills his rucksack with a massive sack of rocks, then off he goes naked into the war zone. Who will cry for him ? at least give a glance ... While the major factions war, the rocks on his back expand

They say in an elephant war the real victim is the grass, while we hustle and battle for ours, the real victim walks on past. At the expense of the green man, society is further defined in black and white ... Polarized to extremes and opinionated to a disgusting fault, at the expense of the green man, society is now made up of two polarized and disgusting cults. I hear shots and its cold outside, he gets hit by every stray and kicked in every way.

Who will cry for him? Attempt to ease the load ... Who will define the social spectrum beyond what we think we know. The white man laments his burden and the black man follows suit, while the numerically challenged green man is forced to remain mute. Another day and less a dollar another way to be more a victim, who will define the social spectrum beyond what we think we know

before i wake

I am caught in a horrifying nightmare please wake me up, i just want this all to stop. My alarm is set for 6.30 and its barely 3.00 I cant bare this stress on me. I`m simply seeing flashes of videos and pictures of doom while I stand in a creepy room ... my mind starts to fume and at the same time the pictures zoom while in the background is a sickening tune ... somebody call my phone, I´m trapped in dreamland alone My only wish is that i make it home.

I see a mom on the floor holding her son, she looks sad, confused, and somewhat stunned. As the picture zooms in it gets a lot less fun, its now apparent what the bullets have done. Housemate turn on your music !!! Be loud !!! bring home a crowd. I just need something to get me out ... No such luck, the next video has a man in a truck in crowded neighborhood and it looks like hes stuck. A closer look shows clearly what he has in the truck, hes just waiting to blow stuff up ... Now this really sucks ... Somebody stop him, foil his plans, don't let him kill those little kids or kill that old man, but then my thoughts are interrupted by a very loud bang ... its over we lost it damn ... Ok stalker chic who always calls at weird times, it is time to show your value please save me from my mind, if you call right now i will love you and be kind but its hopeless i am hit with another horror find: Now I exit from the room and i am standing on a street, lots of people wearing suits looking polished and elite. But beyond the polished suits, the cars and the fleets, there is a very very dangerous feat ... I feel chills in my feet ... These selfish pigs appear to be robbing the poor, stealing their money like a kleptomaniac in a store. These crazy armed robbers in the light of the day, destroy the hard workers just to better their pay ... The street fades away, i see a barn and a farm, a burning cross, white robes and also a storm, the picture starts to zoom in and I start to mourn, then i hear peep peep peep, 6.30 saved by the alarm.

I wake up drenched in sweat, my bed is soaked and wet, I just thank God i escaped that crazy set. I turn on the TV cause its a happy day, oh crap breaking news: some kid got hit by a stray. Trying to avoid a deja vu i quickly flip to next: CNN: a thousand dead in an accident nuclear test. This is ridiculous i think as i start to channel hop, finally I am convinced that i should come to a stop, the story on the air totally brought me to disgust: people got swindled for billions by an idiot called Madoff. This is worse than my dream and is really starting to hurt me, at this rate i really doubt if i will live to see thirty, my nightmare has turned into a daymare dear lord have mercy

God dont like beautiful

It all started with a bang that progressed into man ... I say it started with man and regressed into a very big bang ... Its obvious that God don't like beautiful because its ugly. We have proven our superior ability to create destruction which appears to justify the notion that humans are set to self destruct.

Over time we have always managed to find a way to disagree and we have skillfully developed new methods of violence to escalate these disagreements. The fist became a stick and the stick became a stone, the stone became a bow, then a sword, then a gun. We grew our campaign of destruction from local to global, gassing and nuking ourselves to an all time low. During our endeavors a continent was pillaged and its inhabitants enslaved, 6 million people were murdered for being circumcised, we got more creative and introduced temperature to determine the type of war being fought, two towers fell and so did two countries, oh and a celebrity lost her dog ... (Just a quick brush on the topics that made the headlines)

Lets face facts, much of what we uphold to be the centerpiece of the human civilization is nothing more than a hypocritical assault on logic. The premise that humans are in someway smarter and less barbaric than other animals is somewhat flawed in my opinion. We are probably the only animals on planet earth that have sat down and intricately authored our own destruction ... We made our peace with death and came to realize that life was a much more formidable foe.

A very slippery slope: The Trotsky predicament

The turbulent history of humans and humanity is filled with epic tales of gain and loss. Regardless of ones moral, social, or political convictions, we all have at least one historical event that we view with pride and nostalgia. whether 10 or 1000 years ago, historical events that we strongly relate to are often offset by tragedy caused by strategic blunders. Responses to these historical events (or the lack of it) has often been the subject of great debate and contention. "Did they do enough" "did they do too much" are questions that often arise. Drawing a conclusion on many of these events is in my opinion a very slippery slope, What gave rise to an analogy i call the Trotsky predicament.

Many have argued (including myself) that rationally reasoning with an irrational man reflects the ultimate form of irrationality on the part of the proponents of such action. The concept of balanced negotiation and the dynamics of democratic principles would have meant nothing to Stalin and thus Leon Trotsky should have, in true defense of his Marxist ideologies, confronted and neutralized Stalin while he had the power to(considering the fact that He held command of the red army until the rise of Stalin). Others might stand in sharp contrast to the above affirmations claiming that loyalty to ones fundamental principles remains paramount to the individual`s true moral and ethical stance. Thus, despite Stalin`s subsequent reign of terror and derailment of the fundamental essence of the revolution , Trotsky remains vindicated by history.

Edmund Burke is often quoted as saying "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." Since i personally contend that it is extremely difficult to uphold a single definition of "good" or "evil", I prefer to modify this quote as "the only thing necessary for the triumph of one side is the failure of the opposing side to act appropriately in response" ... This I believe to be very true. Therefore, the ultimate judgment of Trotsky and people of his likes will lie in how we choose to define "act appropriately in response". Do we see the "stick to the basic and fundamental values even in view of dire consequences" policy as an appropriate response, or do we see the more flexible "if they choose to threaten my peaceful conduct with a knife i will respond with a bazooka" policy as an appropriate response ?

In the light of darkness: a case for an alcohol state

Take away love, take away peace, take away sanity, take away joy, take away life, take away hope, all i beg of you is to give me truth. This is my final assertion, the ultimate resolve of a questionable hypothesis, the prevailing thought of a revered principle, the central thesis of an illusive question. Of all the intrinsic values that define humanity, truth should be defended in the highest esteem.

We are all actors and actresses. Indoctrinated zombies playing to the script. One can argue that manners, etiquette, protocol, customs, propriety, etc are all mechanisms that have actively served in propagandizing the greater human populace and creating an astonishing race of androids. However, that once in while, we see human beings under the influence of external substances that instigate them to completely throw caution to the wind. At that time you see man in all his barbaric splendor. Dancing around, puking, saying "hey man" to everybody ten million times in a row, doing everything against the dictates of the laws of propriety ... But at that point, in spite of all the physical "craziness", this is when we are truly human. No more actors, no more fakes and no more zombies.

Take away all the characteristics that give man any kind of intrinsic value, just give me truth. take away the zombies, the fakes and the actors, give me the drunks and the stoners. Despite all that "craziness", at least we can finally be human. So when our livers and lungs have collapsed right before we turn 30, let it be on the record that we died human and not zombie. So yea give me an alcohol state.