My Tragedy

While I still be

2012-01-02T10:55:00.000-08:00

The watchmaker is dead cause time has gone rouge and reckless; that wayward rowdy rascal has become increasingly erratic. The senselessness of a soldier determined to defend the soil, of a soulless geographical entity that has entirely been soiled. The absoluteness of sin has long been strongly disputed, as have the tenets of morality been affirmed to be relative. The fundamentals of society are overwhelmingly utilitarian, but let it burn as the majority and minority are marginalized alike.

And I didnt remember to remember to forget, so I guess I remembered now my memory regrets. Cast in the shadows of dungeons and cast lots, shackled by the panic of a loose and twisted plot. The verdict for a real and virtual vixen raises controversy as to what exactly constitutes a victim. Aspirations saddled on the assurances of criminals, dreams largely contingent on the commandeer of other people’s money. It’s cold, dark and sunny. I am probably the most self enlightened dummy. Images completely informed by the reflections of smoking mirrors, in total spite of the smoking barrel I completely deny that I pulled the trigger.

I am the green man’s apology; a catastrophic controversy; perhaps in the temple I could be all the Buddha hoped to be. Perfection of my perception with the acquisition of the sixth sense, conceivably my rationality will finalize my isolation. Yet I’m burdened with the burdens of the cross and a crescent, reciting biblical scriptures in defense of the glock. Following the fundamentals of the findings of ambiguity, I am a compromised concept. A catch without a 22.

Free and Accepted

2011-08-17T15:30:00.000-07:00

hitting a hard heap of the harshest hail, hording the harsh heat as a hero sails. Setting the mass symbols of sense and life, setting the globe free of a senseless life. The nobility of the craft crafted crafty craftsmen, and world was awed by the stones they shaped. A compass and square sitting beside an anchored arc, finding bearings to lands of new as the non-persecuted few.

Dedicated to dead doctrines; the dire doodles of dreaming decedents, drenched in the dictates of a declassified dichotomy. Listening to the lifeless lingua of a pointless life lesson propagated by the opinions of an over opinionated motivational speaker. The incarceration of mason is an indictment of the court of public opinion. As the opinions of the public have long been plastered with a price, the principles of propriety appear to back my plea. Since the sights and sounds of singing souls sit beyond what i can see, it is only fair and just that mason should be free.

Caught in the mix of a minor mix up mistaken for a certain missing Marshan. The mirage in the mind of a mixed-race nationalist was apparently not so apparent. Thus the inconsistency that authorizes the hatred of half an individual is now consistent with mainstream society. I have sinned against society and blasphemed against the bizarre, hated but still free and accepted

fitted ts, Iversons and all that used to be (Dedicated to da man Chusk)

2011-06-24T21:00:00.000-07:00

something is lurking in the dark, someone is creeping on my street. I walk as if I'm fine but have no feeling in my feet. My arms too short to box with God, and my legs are too stressed to stand the devil. Standing against the game with "intimidating" bricks and bats, the status-quo is now the same cause it is all tit for tat. Dwelling in the squalor of a dizzying diocese, i dip real deep while i dramatize the facts.

I pose by a pile of decomposing pictures to have memories of lost memories. But my memory is pricked by the taste of rotten pickles and the positives of a prozac nation. I propose a toast: To the people of God and to country, or better yet to the people of Gods own country, but if we toasted with the people of God in a country the hypocrisy alone will make it a pretty God damned country. So we pick the pain from exactly where we left off cause the pills provide pits in our placement of perspective. Give me a second to puke and piss on the polity, pick up my damn phone and ring up the life police. Pocket a pinch of the impossible because I am both pissed and pist, pronounce my unwavering commitment to the non commitment movement. I step away from the blur and shock of the immediate past, and you were just a kid that was content with his Iversons ... but in the end it all comes to nothing ... How then can we free? In a sick and twisted way there is something truly peaceful about nothing, and in a typical philosophical cliche i declare that NOTHING IS THE NEW SOMETHING

I raise my glass to the ghost of a dropouts graduation, to the victory dance of a crippled athlete, to the pregnant wife of a virgin priest, to the vibrant life of a comatose beast, to the progressive commitment of a Nigerian politician, to equal opportunity under a capitalist system, to a united, peaceful, happy prozac nation .... To all things non-existent .... Nastarovia

Summer reign

2011-05-24T17:43:00.000-07:00

I will not learn to swim, not even dip my toes; the sun is far too cold and reigns much to dry. The regime that imposes upon us is but the “passing” of a constant reverberation, I will not bother to float for that is the devils water. Between a blue water navy and the deep blue sea lies a paramount inconsistency in the expected ending of a constant. With an antagonistic combo of white witches and wild wolves, the combat deficit protagonist is introduced as Wikipedia. A truly sad battle, lost before it started

Hence I break bread with a rare breed of battle hardened bikers: A composed click of criminal kingpins, crippled covert cops, and caches of cash crops. The green births green otherwise known as paper or cream. My personal prognosis is there will particularly be no price paid for the murder of a mass murderer. As the act of promoting death remains characteristically the same, how then can the perpetrators of an identical crime be culpable and not culpable? On Sundays I clean my shoes and sip on some clean juice, sit in the church service and sow a significant seed, hope that I find redemption for my sacrilegious sin, and say a silent prayer for the salvation of my soul. I truly start to wonder if salvation is our goal, but I would not learn to swim, not even dip my toes. Before me lies an elaborate picture of little pocket people, mocking a humble peacock for having lost its pride.

This sick society of selfish scavengers is hunted by the ghosts of dead presidents. I pray that the raging ghosts of these men be brought under my control, for they have functioned with absolute impunity for far too long. Then I can finally get me out of my way as I have truly become a nuisance to my smooth assimilation into society. And the contradictions that have shaped my personal convictions will one day conquer or be conquered, so society can be solely ruled by either my enemies or my friends.

tattoo tales of joy

2011-04-26T13:38:00.000-07:00

Sipping on a white Russian reminiscing on days past, fixating on the crazed fact that the progression of time is becoming more reminiscent of a hazed mash. Flashes of walking fishes confirm my fears and loathing in Las Vegas. Reflecting on the thoughts and non-thoughts of my preferred personal policy, seeking sanctuary among the pariahs and the partakers in the sorcery of logic.

The logic of the illogical serves to justify many oxymora, such as the rationale behind the irrational destruction of an ideology. Last night a magic midget mocked me merrily, seemed somewhat amused at my suggestion that I seek clarity. With my middle fingers crossed I attempt to say a prayer, but am hindered by graphic pictures of a people that pay for progress. Standing on wobbly stilts I make a sad attempt at sarcasm, middle finger pointed up as I stick it to the man. The entirety of my actions can best be described as laughable, or a measly misadventure fervently lacking in any depth.

Last night a magic midget had a mega time mocking me, seemed amused at my suggestion that it was all finally clear to me. The irrational and the illogical are birthed from rational and logical conclusions, hence the rationality of my non-conclusions is but the continuation of a vicious but virtuous circle. I cross my middle finger as I attempt to say a prayer, but I am hindered by the possibility of the discovery of perfection. The theoretical assertion that perhaps an absolute end exists will put an end to my current existence so let’s just play pretend.

Vodka Tequila Absinthe: An Ode to Jonkoping

2011-04-14T16:07:00.000-07:00

The spirit of white spirits creep and hover round the room, jacking up the tunes as we casually play chess. Sitting in a chatty circle as we chip away the shots, go from good to gud to gouwd as we shoot the Russian tea. We raise our sixes to God and country in a unified Nastarovia, the chess game is now on "hold" and the tough guys are now so bold. Our conviction is Absolute so we go absolutely blue, but even with a Yeltsin compromise we are Absolutely true.

The transition from home to disco is a freak show of flashing pictures. No coherent coordination, no adherence to cordial conduct. We lost two men back at home and a third has fallen on the bus, They were raped by the ritual of the rugged Russian tea and now wreak of puke and liquor. The remainder of the platoon randomly staggers into the club, then we feel our way to the bar. Sixes of tequilas and am not talking rose, but we get the shots in six standing rows.somewhere down the road the tequila becomes suicidal; the salt goes up your nose and the lime down your eyes ... these are your last memories for the night and your height can dwarf a kite.five more men fall and three are left standing, narration of subsequent events must be done in the third person:

His world begins to spin and then he picks up his phone, drunks calls potato and talks some stuff i dont know. "are you a fucking Nazi" he says to the skin head beside, then is politely told to fuck off as he is pushed to the side. He proceeds to the bathroom and takes a piss in the sink, walks out with his zip down and drunk migrates to the lounge. He bumps into this random girl that had asked him out in his class, he tells her "sorry I only date Asians" while adjusting his hat. He runs into his last two standing comrades who just as wasted as him, they drunk migrate to the bar and now it is looking pretty grim. I wish i could say they were at the bar to buy some mint, no, he talks to the bar tender "please three sixes of absinthe" ...

Sleep tight

2011-01-09T10:50:00.000-08:00

A mother screams in pain and frustration, another child is born. Tossed to the side and hushed of its cry as it wears a crown of thorns. Christened misfortune after a baptism of fire and blood, a true have not, misfortune is all she ever truly got. Exposed to all the elements from death to death, she was born into death and died a dead woman.

misfortune had the misfortune of having everything but a fortune. From birth she begged for life pleading with mom to let her breath, but mom knew little of the culture of living as she long had seized to be. They came from a long linage of death and surely it begetteth its kind, not a pot to piss or window to throw it out, no one dines for just a dime. The tragedy that is the life of this popper lays purely in the prefix, but that mis made her miss the entire essence of humanity and now she is just a being. She sits on the side of the street and sighs, wishing for the improbable. One hand on her head, the other pointing up to the sky as she rides on an artificial tide. Drives past the pointlessness of non philosophical monologues, mingles in a world of masked men and masquerades. This is true to her so you can take your facts and shove it, the shuttle just left earth and now she's flying and she loves it

She is heckled back to earth as the hit starts to fade, the harmonious poppy halo slowly goes away. She only wants to stay and there is only a single way: keep the needle pumping happy juice into her lonely veins. Lost track of time and of her living dead existence, lost track of the fact that she bore quite a few infants. She makes her grand exist in a final blaze of glory, leaving behind many misfortunes to continue and tell her story. She was born into death and died a dead woman, but an induced illusion of life is better off than not living ... she spreads her wings to fly as she boards on the red eye, never has to return to die she smiles and waves .... good bye ... good bye

The final stand

2010-11-28T20:56:00.000-08:00

The lights revealed the size of the arena we chose to meddle. Our eyes revealed the caliber of the characters we choose to mock. In our hands we held the tools that we had crudely shaped from dirt. Our feet reveal 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. At our front stood the conductor, as 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

2010-11-16T22:41:00.001-08:00

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

2010-11-05T03:07:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-16T05:51:00.000-07:00

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 ?

2010-10-02T18:48:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-16T10:49:00.000-07:00

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: partially dedicated to a random potato pants

2010-09-13T13:22:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-05T13:59:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-14T02:46:00.001-07:00

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

2010-05-17T10:12:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-04T08:00:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-22T19:32:00.001-07:00

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

2010-03-18T20:51:00.000-07:00

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

2010-02-22T17:48:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-17T14:37:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-23T21:05:00.000-08:00

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.

Treachery: The unjustification of a (once just?) hermit

2009-12-26T07:57:00.001-08:00

My dear friend,

I am pleased to inform you that as I write this letter I am standing on the border between political consciousness and mental oblivion. Yes, in a few seconds I will cross that border without looking back. I made it. It was not easy to get to this point, My journey was extremely turbulent. I survived ship wrecks and diseases, home sickness and robberies. I struggled every inch of the journey and now I am here. Even though you strongly advised against this trip, I beg you to clap for me.

Together we witnessed the dehumanization of humanity, the brutal murder of hope and the destruction of progressive ideologies. We witnessed the metamorphosis of human diction and vocabulary into a very extreme and polarizing monster. Ruthless became the new firm and and impulsive became the new persistent. We watched in horror as humanity was gradually conditioned to accept as normal acts that would normally be considered outrageous and out of place. We saw the displacement of compassion and the radicalization of the moderates. Before you jump to judge me, remember that we saw the dehumanization of humanity.

I am in no way attempting to assume a condescending position of psychological superiority, that my friend is your job. I have in fact come to terms with the reality of my fate. I am in to deep and will become a benefactor of the system. A sellout as you might call it, but i like to think of myself as a self made opportunist. The fallacy of social justice and human equality is now clear to me, the selfishness of political and human activism is now open for the whole world to see. Now i am promising you nothing but will make one last assertion: I am done with the crap and will fly straight across this border and never look back.

Sincerely,

The black hermit who finally made it home

2009-12-14T15:42:00.000-08:00

this was just on another level

If i could ... then i would

2009-12-06T16:13:00.000-08:00

If i could just go ... crawl , walk, run and then fly ... fly somewhere far, where they dont care who you are. Live oblivious of this system that has tormented my mind, if i could just fade away from the laws, the judgment, and also from time.

If I could just Breath .... Take a long deep soothing and refreshing breath. Take a breath because i can and not because i have to, inhale and exhale past all the things I passed through. If I could breath for my uncle Nelson and my sweet loving mom, I will hold their hands for one last time and sing them a hip hop song.

If I could just be half the man that I think I`m meant to be, maybe i could pay my pops back half of what he`s sacrificed for me. If I contrast who I am now with who I`m meant to be, I derive the epic battle of the non-conformist vs society

If I could just see with my soul at the expense of my eyes, my life will probably have a whole lot more NOs and a whole lot less whys. If I could just see with my thoughts as a fundamental guide, then there will be a fundamental victory of the truth over lies.

If I could make the future, I would probably alter the past, cause my future will be filled with many figures that have passed. My boy Bol-z with Abe Lincoln getting blazed up with Marley while my mom is ridding shot gun and I am driving the car :) ... The perfect picture coming from a not so perfect state of mind, the perfect picture drawn in a setting with no space or time.

If i could LIVE ... If I could just LIVE

Then give me hell

2009-11-12T17:58:00.000-08:00

Heaven: A wonderful place of perfect bliss and unimaginable joy. A city often said to be paved with pure gold and filled with many mansions. A place that is believed to to redefine pleasure and supersede even the wildest imagination of the most unrealistic optimist. Often upheld to be the final reward for "good" works done on earth, heaven is believed to be attainable by different people and for very different reasons.

A certain group of people believe they will end up in heaven just by adhering to the laws of planet earth. They just live with not much of an opinion and try to stay out of the way. Another large group of people derive their doctrine from a very similar source. They believe in one supreme and superior God but have managed to create irreconcilable differences as to how exactly this God operates. All the groups, subgroups and sub-subgroups under the one God movement also believe they are going to heaven. Another group derive their doctrines from similar sources and believe that noble and decent practices will place you on a superior level of consciousness of which after all has been said and done you will ultimately "return to the creator" (heaven).

Now is it just me or is it looking like there are going to be a whole lot of people in heaven. The question then becomes who exactly is not going to heaven ? Almost no one. The categories above almost cover every demographic therefore everyone on earth is simply going to pack up their bags and move to heaven someday. Will heaven not just become a replica of earth ?

It is either one group amongst the groups going to heaven is right or all the groups are simply wrong because the heaven i will want to end up in must hold non of the characteristics of this crazy world. If everyone on planet earth is actually moving to heaven at some point, if all the people dead in the past and going to die in the future are all going to the same place, If Malcolm X and Martin Luther King are heading to the the same destination as David Duke and Nathan Bedford Forrest, If Christopher Columbus and queen Anacaona currently dwell in the same place, If George Bush and Rush Limbaugh are heading to the same place as Osama Bin Laden and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to recreate all this craziness ... if that place is called heaven ... Then just give me "hell"

To whom honour is due: A tribute and a love story

2009-10-29T09:03:00.000-07:00

You were there through thick and thin, stood by me in the lions den.
In a sharp contrast to others, you never ever pretend.
I`m always real when I`m with you and dont have to try to blend,
you accept me as I am, you are my pen, my best friend.

I remember when we 1st met like 20 some odd years ago,
who would have known just how far this interesting duo would go
you are my friend, my colleague, my sister and my bro,
I love you to the death of me and i just wanted you to know

When we started getting intimate, I was almost going through hell,
You supported me through the craziness and silenced that ringing bell.
There are stories we have told and stories we've tried to tell,
because some things we wrote so poorly and others we wrote so well

So now am standing on my fingers and no longer on my toes,
my pen is my foundation and i will say it loud and bold.
So no matter where i go it may be half way across the globe,
you will be my pen, my best friend and its for you i write this Ode

Between a bullet and its target: The final seconds of an ambitious peasant

2009-09-13T17:47:00.000-07:00

The world stood still as it listened to the orgasmic symphony of mother natures orchestra. Truly the significance of this day will never be forgotten. The birds harmoniously sang with the wind, while the trees danced to the intimidating but pleasant tunes. As the rest of the people reflect on the events of the immediate past, they cannot come to terms with the fact that his status is now past tense ... The picture of a nation mourning the death of a revolutionary leader gradually fades right back to reality, as he lays dieing in the alley way struggling to take his last gasps of air.

There will actually be no 21 gun salute, nor will there be a state funeral ... mother nature did not organize the powerful elements at her disposal to honor him, and he probably wount even make it to the local paper ... He is just another victim of a robbery gone wrong ... Just another soon to be dead man ... wow ... quite a sharp contrast from the illusions of boy growing up determined to be massive ... The dreams that were gradually buried by the harsh realities of life ... Dreams that were only resurrected seconds before he breathed his last ... This is unfortunately the dominant story of the world today.

A collection of shattered dreams and lost inspiration. The story of a people that choose to stop pushing ... The tale of a universal ideology grounded in mediocrity... "I will not do that dance nor will i walk that path" was his initial resolve ... "Ok i will give a little shake and maybe a backslide or two just to get around for now" was his latter compromise ... "Oh my God how did i get here ?" was his final question "A little shake and a backslide grew into a full fledged break-dance which i could never break out of until my dieing second" was his final conclusion.

I am

2009-07-23T14:21:00.000-07:00

I am the product of the reasoning of an unreasonable elite ... I am the daughterless son of a sonless daughter; yes i was disowned by my father, brothers, and even my mother. I exist in a complicated state of illusion and reality as the reality of many is but the illusion of the illusionist and the illusion of most has often been nothing but the truth ...

But what is truth in the first place ? can truth be measured by the inner convictions of what a person considers to be a moral consciousness ? Or is truth a universal fact that cannot be changed by the thoughts or perceptions of a person. If the former holds to be true, then i am almost always a lie ... An antagonistic pest seeking to destroy the resolve of a "moral" protagonist. However, if the latter definition is proven as right, then i might be able to "justify my thug". I am the reaction to an action, the consequence of a choice ... I am the climax of a build up, the result of a violated treaty ... For the choice of the parties to violate the pact, was my incentive to move in, to spread, and also to act.

I am the constant reminder of the failings within society, an embodiment of nemesis and karma all in one. I have been to the mountain top and I swear if they do not act now, united under the cause, they will all be exterminated as single individuals. I am the manifestation of hate, injustice and destruction, and my existence has made love, justice and construction even more attractive ... I am the doing of people but can easily be their undoing ... I am what I am ... I am the tragedy of a man.

Rabbler: The redemption of the rainman

2009-07-08T02:21:00.001-07:00

He will live his death labeled the lone voice of life ... the lukewarm lives of lackluster lip syncers have enthroned the lapses of some lying lame ducks. The once laughable struggle of an ugly little laborer has laddered to the limelight with no plans to leave. Laying in their lack, it was their lust that prompted greed, now he lives in vindication far across the largest sea.

Raised in a rare realm of Rastafarian rebellion, He was forced to relinquish his roots from this reputable redemption. Obviously those roving rats classified as repulsive, what thy believed to be a radical message from a reclusive elite. They ridiculously assumed the writings on the wall to be random, while a rear rose from the renaissance rallied the right while righting their wrongs. He stood quiet while he was writing at dawn revealing race, reputation, and relevance have become the parameters to determine right from the wrong.

He relaxes on a rock with a relatively rough surface, reflecting on the paradox of a nation reluctantly trying to remember the future. Reaffirming his resistance to any romantic rendezvous, "they are astonishingly shallow" he romantically concludes; thinking of the countless times that romance has been misused; He laughs very much on his own at that giant raft made out of stone.

For the love of a lost soul: The Jackie Arklöv catastrophe

2009-04-30T06:05:00.000-07:00

Weep child and dry your eyes only when you want to see. Morn because our mother cries for me, but she wails for you ... A blessed soul now so lost ... The alternative end to the tragedy of the mental gypsy ... The ending where the gypsy never finds his Atlantis, never finds a place to call home ... The ending where the gypsy is forced to accept the inferior mentality of the superficial city ...

Weep child for as much as you might not like it, the truth is you are an integral part of it and instead of hailing Hitler, you are better off Hailing HIM Selassie. Our mother had sons and daughters of great achievement, but she still worries more about the the renegade elements within her offspring ... The kids that left home and just never came back ... Home is home blood ... And your home will always be there for you ... I call my struggle a complex tragedy which i try to document in order to make sense out of a seemingly senseless situation ... However, the complexity of your struggle dwarfs my tragedy for yours is a tragedy left unchecked ... It is a catastrophe

As i reflect on events from the past to present, I see the tribulations of man have very common characteristics. The response of men on the other hand is very very different. A tragedy, when discovered early can probably be contained with a significant amount of determination. If we however let the tragedy of any situation to get out of hand, we will be left to the mercy of our inner demons who are determined to destroy us at all cost ... Yes, we are determined to destroy our own selves and If we are left to the mercy of our own selves then the end is inevitably destruction ... Weep child, for that is the Jackie Arklöv story ... The death of a tragedy and the birth of a catastrophe ... :-C

In search of atlantis: The tragedy of a mental gypsy

2009-04-15T09:25:00.000-07:00

He stares in admiration of the power of mother nature ... Watching as she raises wave after wave in all her mighty splendor. He sits wishing ... wishing that just one more person could see it in the way that he has ... But his lone presence on that beach is a testament to the superficial nature of the people in that city. No one goes to the beach no more ... Not since the color of the water became PHYSICALLY unattractive and the APPEARANCE of the sand became so "imperfect". He sits on that beach alone, with almost no school of thought that he can actually call home.

"How can the mechanism that makes the waves rise and the tides fall be of less importance than the mere color of the water?" wonders the gypsy. "Although the water might be temporally polluted and the sand physically less attractive, why should this minor superficial set back offset thousands of years of majestic bliss" ... It should not , ... it actually cannot ... But as perception has steadily become reality, I guess it just did

Rising from the beach he is set to continue his journey ... he will never settle down until he finds his Atlantis ... An eternal resting place that he can finally call home ... The lost city that his ancestors had mistakenly strayed away from. However, In his most trying and difficult moments he feels nothing ... That feeling of nothingness is actually something ... it is that thing ... And it is tragic ...

No missed calls: In defence of a fallen soldier

2009-03-14T22:12:00.000-07:00

The vilification of his actions was thorough and precise: "that man fought the evil fight and died an evil death". "History is always written by the victor" said Niccolo Machiavelli. This explains why this man has been made into a beast. Touche oh victor, his memory has been been crushed. He is despised by most and there is not a single missed call on his phone.

Now who will cry for this fallen soldier ? A man who fell for what he believed in. Who will shed a tear for the one that dared to unite and fight under a different type of ideology? . Who will remember his courage and innovation in the most difficult and trying times ?. Who will point out the fact that although he thought differently, His fight was exactly the same ? Who Will tell the youth that no single person can hold the monopoly of "Liberty" nor the definition of right and wrong?. "The surest way to corrupt a youth is to instruct him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently"- Nietzsche

A true soldier never goes to war to fight but to win. however, in order to win, they are very often forced to fight. The same is the case with this fallen soldier as he has been forced to fight in a desperate bid to win the war. His enemies unfortunately gained the upper hand and he fell believing in the doctrine that he stood for. Who is he ?

He is Mao, he is Karl Marx, He is Stanley "Tookie" Williams, He is Carlo Gambino, He is Fidel Castro, He Che Guevara, He is Michael McKevitt, He is Gideon Orkar, He is Attila the Hun, He is Maximilien Robespierre, He is Ayatollah Khomeini, He could be you and he very much could be me. Even if we dont understand these fallen soldiers, the least we can do is respect them.

From the realms of absolute power : Why I am not God

2009-03-02T20:13:00.000-08:00

The concept of absolute power has never really been physically demonstrated on the human earth ... history has proven that power, no matter how much or strong, has always been contested on almost every level. Men in the likes of Genghis Khan, Alexander the great, Adolf Hitler, etc were powerful rulers who enjoyed overwhelming approval ratings. However, even at the peak of their rule, they never had a 100% hold on power as something or someone always stood in the way. In the human mind, the only person mostly thought to have absolute and incontestable power is a being referred to as "God".

Absolute power and authority is believed by most to be in the the hands of "God" or a "God" like being. It is also believed that from the perspective of God, all things are seen and every mystery is solved. One is very quickly tempted to wonder who exactly God is and what is His or Her exact location. Men like Pol Pot, Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler etc went crazy with power that was nothing close to absolute and proved very clearly that man must not be left unchecked. Thus If i was God, I would probably make Stalin look like mother Theresa ... Thank God I am not him ... Should anyone actually seek to be God or have God like powers ? .... I vote no .... Mans selfish, evil and animalistic tendencies tend to almost always override any sense of rationality or balanced thinking, and if left to run wild, will destroy, oppress and ruin anything that does not eat, sleep and think like him .... And the reward for the most savage animals of planet earth incontestably goes to; you probably guessed it already ....

The level of intoxication in the realms of absolute power will make a man getting off his twentieth shot of la fée verte(absinthe) look as sober as a judge. Power may be brutal and dangerous, but absolute power is lethal and deadly. No person should be God or try to have God like powers as there is none so powerful, so wise, and so rational to be able to take the fate of another person into his hands. In the thoughts of Henry miller, the best a person can do is to restore to others, the belief in personal guidance.

Guns as is butter: An indictment of the conventional intellectual

2009-02-23T09:06:00.000-08:00

I exist only because i think, and i have created my fundamental right to differ on what appears to be the obvious. A human beings right to think independently is actually imperative to the continued existence of the human race. However, this right has been grossly abused by human beings themselves who are being increasingly thought for. A testament to the growing number of uneducated graduates we have filling up the world today.

Education is actually suppose to be the learning of knowledge. The process of knowledge acquisition and personal enlightenment are grossly limited by the existence of systems. A mind must be left to run free to attain the purest form of mental civilization. governments, schools, etc are actually blatant impediments to the process of enlightenment, and in the famous words of Walter reed(killah priest) "religion is like prison for the seekers of wisdom". Some of these systems are literally impossible to avoid while others might be able to be gradually compromised into a state of relative insignificance. Any type of system has many limitations and any form of limitation is an impediment to learning. Therefore, the less the limitations the greater the possibilities to learn and acquire knowledge. In light of the above, for any individual to suggest in the least that any system holds any significant form of enlightenment can be considered to be a mass misrepresentation of the facts. Let people go to school as they may be able to learn a little from this, but dont make them believe that once they have a PHD they have learned it all.

The arrogant state of conventional intellectualism is obviously unfounded and in need of urgent review. The current policy makers and "know it alls" have proven beyond reasonable doubt that they are actually "know nothings". They have unfortunately bought into a century long lie that has given them mental superiority based on ridiculous paper qualifications. "Until Philosophers are kings, or kings have the spirit of Philosophy, cities will never have rest from their troubles" says Socrates as reported by Plato in the republic ... Well i guess we have to brace for a whole lot more trouble.

The Evil

2009-02-19T03:23:00.001-08:00

In sight of the confusing chaos I fall to my knees and say a brief prayer: "have mercy on our bloods". The rampaging souls of soulless men have consumed the realms with fire and brim stone destroying all in its path, and conforming all non-conformist. Many of the elite are destroyed in their stubbornness and any elements of nostalgia are smashed out of my bloods. The weeping kids are ordered to weep not as these emotionless beings reign down commotion and terror. In the mist of the craziness I spot a faint pattern .. "could this madness actually be for the greater good" ? Scores of scholars and the architects of the system are summarily executed and their bodies burnt to ashes. The blood of my bloods is spilled creating an ocean of agony and a sea of destruction. I am appalled and somewhat amazed at what appears to be a systematic and well orchestrated ideological genocide. The past becomes blurry as most elements of it are flushed out and brutally destroyed. The speed mixed with surprise makes the military doctrine of the blitzkrieg look like an exercise designed for turtles. The level of organization and coordination amongst the perpetrators of this madness shows that what is chaos for most is actually art for a chosen few. Concerned by the destruction of of history i think to myself "how can we learn now that there is nothing to learn from?" ... I am quickly called to order as the answer quickly pops into my head: "learn from this and live now" ...

I look back on the events of the last few minutes and it is crazy, it is intense, it is organized, it is executed with astonishing attention to detail, it is beautiful, it is art, and it is finished ...

Blasphemy

2009-01-18T16:04:00.000-08:00

My school of thought has become paramount to my physical state. My perceptions have slowly become my reality and my reality is now too close to call. My prayers for redemption have been intentionally ignored as my major sin has taken me far beyond restitution.

Blasphemy; the most brutal sin that has ever committed me. My pathetic attempts to escape were easily frustrated by an ideology which i found to be simply irresistible. An ideology whose intimidating presence rendered me completely powerless, and whose pillars come in direct conflict with the laws of convention: hence its vilification. The blasphemy of my blasphemous ideology has brought me directly to the border of Hades and yes the devil actually does wear Prada. In fearing what i did not understand i was quick in trying to flee, until a closer glance showed that what was Hades for them was actually paradise for me. Blasphemy !!

I walk a tragic path of glory and a sad road of joy, a turbulent way of peace and shaky path to stability. I am guilty of aiding the messenger of doom and of accepting her uncomfortable message of mental emancipation. I have been banished to face punishment for my unforgivable sins, and strolled the land of torment seeking torment for my soul. But as i stared into the abyss and the abyss right back into me, there was nothing actually abysmal in what i saw, nor was there anything blasphemous in what i thought.

you must love me

2008-11-29T05:33:00.000-08:00

As I am caught in the mix of the lights and the glits, imprisoned by the freedoms that are based on a myth, I have been taught to run after a dream that does not exist. Like the rose that grew from concrete as explained by Mr Shakur, you must celebrate my will know and my tenacity to reach the sun. My never ending urge to explain my convictions and my never ending need to justify my philosophy. some people call it weird while others call it stupid, I prefer to call it my tragedy or my justifiable destruction.

You may not like the man I am or the man i will become, but you must always respect and recognize the fact that i still became a man. You may not like the path that i walk or the direction that i take, but at least i walk a path chosen on my own and take a direction that i feel is right ... A path whose end holds my redemption, and whose cost is the beautiful solitude. With my soul trapped in this liberated mindset, I have traded my last breath for tears and all my blood for absolutely nothing ... Yet i still breath and i miraculously still bleed, you must love me because I miraculously still be.

Dont hate me because you dont like what what i am doing with my life today, hate me when i change what i am doing because i am scared of what you are going to say. S0 until i am visibly shaken or terrified by your lame words, you have absolutely no choice but to love me.

In a timeless space: Reflections of a suicidal veteran

2008-11-13T17:37:00.000-08:00

A couple of seconds to the end and it was apparently clear: His demons had gained tactical advantage and he was never going to make it out of there alive. All alone in his room, disillusioned and defeated, he stares hard at that glock as he drifts into a brief mental paradise, a place of pure peace and a space of no time. With a slight grin and a whole lot of tears, he is quite shocked at how the history of glory and triumph that trails him never prepared him for what ultimately turned out to be the final battle.

With the scars from battles fought, certificates from universities gone and awards from tournaments won, he had gained the respect and admiration of all apart from one ... the one whose respect can only be earned through a careful process of solemn reflection and unilateral humility ... The one who could not care less about your physical achievements ... The one whom he conveniently choose to ignore ... Blinded by the false system which glorifies nothings, he ascended to a rarefied atmosphere of "perfection" and "greatness".

Staring hard at that glock he can finally see: the falsehood, the failure and the illusion of a life well lived. A sad case of misplaced priorities and displaced aspirations. "i was once great ... or at least they thought i was" ... his last thoughts as a loud bang gives the final victory to his demons.

crawling cheetahs and running turtles

2008-10-31T17:46:00.000-07:00

The Eagles were raised as chickens and the chickens as eagles .... The sheep as wolves and the wolves as sheep ... The bees as flies and the flies as mosquitoes ..... The mosquitoes as wasps and the wasps butterflies. A twisted system which has forced flightless birds to fly and harmless insects to sting .... herbivores to eat meat and carnivores to chew on grass ..... A system that seeks by all means to test the limits of dramatic irony by forcing cheetahs to crawl and turtles to run.

We are caught in this system of mass indoctrination which seems to be geting a kick out of playing world opposite day .... hence the new smart is now dumb and the new dumb is now smart .... The new lion is now a donkey and the new donkey is now a sheep ..... What if .... and just what if, ... we all decided that play time was over and everything went back to its original character ..... The eagles will once again soar and the chickens will walk the earth like they are suppose to ...... the carnivores will finally be able to derive their proper nutrients from a good meal of meat and the the herbivores will happily munch away on something they can actually stomach .... We will actually have a much more healthy and effective system.

The complex game of pretend which has brought us thus far in the existence of man has proven to be be extremely costly and fatally out of control. The system of jokers, jokes, and clowns that has incredibly forced Whales to walk on land and camels to swim in the deep blue sea must be broken ...... It is not just the evil of the whole situation that is most annoying, it is the senselessness behind all this madness and the impunity with which these mad men operate.

Let the cheetahs run and let turtles crawl, for there is no cheetah on planet earth that can crawl better than a turtle, nor is there a turtle that can run faster than a cheetah.

An unkindness of ravens ...

2008-10-24T09:06:00.000-07:00

I smiled as the single one approached because many say sighting a loner away from the unkindness will bring a person luck. But I have never been much of the lucky type and that was why it was no surprise when less than 30 seconds latter the entire unkindness was upon me. Sighting an entire unkindness as opposed to the loner is supposed to be a sign of turbulence and uncertainty in the future. Discovering that the loner was not a loner after all was not even a shock to me in the least. I just remained there unmoved and unshaken as i watched the supposed plague shower down its curses on me ......

I stood there smiling until i had to consciously remind myself that the initial reason i was smiling had been discredited by subsequent events .... A painful reminder of the fact that my emotions dumped me in a foster home a long time ago and left me to the mercy of my thoughts. Reason and rationality therefore became the center piece my basic code of conduct which initially appeared to be good and emancipating. My lone flyer very quickly turned out to be an entire unkindness as too much reason and too much thought gave birth to my tragedy ..... Let us pray

Dear God, gods, and goddesses of planet earth, i understand your need to have the last laugh. A situation which has probably led you to redefine the phrase "practical joke" and blow it a little out of human proportion. However, as you continue to come up with more innovative ways to get your laugh and daily dose of comic relief, please dont forget to remember one thing: A raven whether in kind or unkindness is always individually in kind and technically in unkindness(using the all for one and one for all theory)

The triumph of "the lesser man"

2008-10-04T07:59:00.000-07:00

We celebrate "progress", celebrate "success", admire "the rich" and pity "the poor" ... We prioritize the needs of "the powerful" while taking a piss on "the lesser man" ... We all long to be "great", long to be "powerful", pray to be "rich" and hope to be "important" ... We strive to distance our tactics from those of "the lesser men" and only want to be associated with them on a charity basis.

What we fail to see is the role "the lesser man" plays in the achievements of the "the better man" .. If there were no poor then there will technically be no rich as the state of being wealthy can only be attained in a society with non wealthy people to make the comparison ... If there were no weak, there will technically be no strong as a man is considered strong only because there are many with less strength than himself ... Therefore, "the better man" needs "the lesser man" to be able to exist in an anal state of pride and superiority ... Yet more often than not, the former assumes a condescending position of mental arrogance and appalling stupidity, instigated by a system of misplaced priorities and dysfunctional elements ... The latter on the other hand have adopted a stereotypical prototype of chronic inferiority which is backed by the same questionable system that cant see past its own nose ...

This is the triumph of "the lesser man" ... The emancipation of the masses ... The vindication of the homeless bum and the justification of the underachiever; all who have been made to work according to the standards of a very narrow and infective system which defines accomplishment by a very biased and ignorant criteria ... Weep not oh ye souls of lesser emphasis and boast not oh ye clans of the elite . For you are equally of less importance in this equation called life

Based on actual events: A lady of difficult virtue

2008-09-24T08:05:00.000-07:00

She laughed, laughed hard, laughed loud ... laughed in mockery of the silly lines that were thrown at her .... There will be no action for that guy tonight ... not until he has polished his game ... She kills, she dies ..... Dies every time a person takes her for granted or tries to take her for a ride ... there is no riding over this lady ... no manipulating or deceiving ... she is what she was and will be what she is ... Over the centuries she has remained the same ... We have already started crying at the jokes that were told a thousand years ago but she is still laughing ... probably will be for a long time ...

She is not understandable ... well at least for most she is not ... few have learn`t to get the best out of her, but most have no idea how to get any of her at all ... She longs and she wishes; wishes that one day it will all be over ... but it wont ... for the end of one is just but the beginning for another ... She is tragically the oldest young person to dwell among us. She will be blamed and will never be loved

This is her tragedy ... the hand that was dealt to her ... the reality she must live with and can probably never change ... She is a lady ... A lady of virtue ... As opposed to what we would like ,she is a lady of difficult virtue .... One we cant push around ... for those who tried before us failed horrendously .... Its time we stepped up our game and respectfully tried to understand her ... For she is not going anywhere .... SHE IS LIFE

Of Men and Brutes

2008-09-21T15:16:00.000-07:00

Conventional and unconventional tactics are usually championed on two fronts and by two different groups of people : The men, who like to identify with the conventional ways and choose to propagate the principles of convention, making arguments on the lines of rationality which serves as a masquerade for selfish interests and silly bureaucracy. The brutes on the other hand are opposed to the men and prefer to preach the doctrines of unconventional tactics on the lines of effectiveness and "you cant save everybody".This direct difference in ideology often gives rise to confrontation between both parties.

The concept of diplomacy, negotiations, etc are terms that are very familiar in the men`s quarters .. Terms that are quite frankly ambiguous and invoked only in defense of issues, places and people that support or accept the teachings of the men ..... Terms like crush, kill, destroy,etc are more commonly used in circles of the brutes, as they will go to any and very extreme extents just to meet a goal or accomplish an objective .... This ideology has often proven to be counter productive with catastrophic results ....

As no ideological doctrine has proven to be completely effective, it might be necessary for humans to remain open at all times and ready to invoke the teachings of any of the two groups pending the situation. As diplomacy has very often failed, men might be forced to become brutes and as barbarism has not always been successful, brutes might be forced to negotiate ... Thus humans must examine every situation properly and choose a method of resolution, for within every human, there is a man and a brute ......

As the world turns

2008-09-14T15:26:00.000-07:00

As the world turns it becomes clearer to me that things will continue to get more blurry .... An individual`s ability to perceive things in the true sense will continue to decline until "the true sense" will no longer be definable. The world is dangerously descending to a confusing state of chaos and insanity. A situation which will swallow all those who work by sight and not by thought.

As Plato extensively described in his theory of forms, a perfect world exists only in the thoughts of people as that is the only criteria humans can use to measure the degree of perfectness in this very imperfect world .... Therefore, as the world is very clearly becoming more blurry, humans must begin to consult with their world of forms much more often to guide them and let them know the degree of accurateness in any situation ... This is a cause for serious concern as many human beings have completely forgotten how to consult with the Utopian state that exists in their minds. A situation which automatically leaves them at the mercy of the blurry world which is literally deteriorating into a completely void state ...

The need for human beings to return to the basic foundations of fundamental thought has never been more important ... The pillars of wisdom which still holds men like Plato , Socrates, Aristotle and the likes up high are not yet extinct(but are on the endangered species list). As the world turns its not going to get any more clearer, and we are not going to get any less dizzy . The only compass you can rely on for the right bearings are your thoughts ... Getting in touch with them at this time might be imperative to your continued existence as a rational being ...

He wrote : The autobiography of an isolated cynic

2008-09-08T17:41:00.000-07:00

He wrote because he spoke no language ..... When he tried to communicate they never understood him ... As an isolated outcast he grew closer to his pen, closer to his pad, and closer to his thoughts ... Existing only in the mental company of this dynamic trio, a unique and unexplainable bond began to form ... He studied the ways of the pen and the greatness of the pad, while traveling to the depths of his thoughts in search of an explanation ..

His attempts at normal communication were met with major failure, as no one could speak the language of the dynamic trio .....Thus he wrote even more ..... As he progressed in life he made a pleasant discovery: There were others out there who also spoke their own languages .. people whom he had assumed did not exist ... They spoke Languages which also resulted in the isolation of their thoughts .... Thus they sang, thus they drew, thus they painted, and of course thus they wrote ...

He wrote, still writes and will write forever ... for that is his outlet to speak .. To let it all out .. To compensate himself with a mental friend ... As he has had limited progress in speaking the language of the majority, they have also not been able to learn much of his own language .. But the discovery of others has been a significant finding, as he knows that he is not alone in being alone ... Therefore, until the majority can comprehend his dialect, the dynamic trio shall be his only friends .... Thus he shall write

In The looking glass

2008-09-05T08:55:00.000-07:00

As I`m sitting and listening to the stories tellers tell, i am captivated and desperately trying to decipher this particular story tellers tale ... So vivid yet so confusing ... With a shocking attention to detail, her descriptive skills will put Patricia Cornwell to shame. She scares me and i wonder why.

The story continues with precision and skill ... There is no going off point for this teller ... not in the least ... Even though we wished she would veer off just a little, she continues to hit the nail on the head ... continues to spread that strange discomfort that is associated with truth .... The silence gets louder until the only thing we can hear is the sound of her unvoiced message ...

Many run away in in fear and confusion ... A little to much to handle ... Others turn up the music so they don't have to listen to the message ... But the question is not if your hair is done properly or if you got your tie on straight ... The question is what do you hear when you stare deep into that looking glass ... It just might be that uncomfortable tale that she very quietly tells ....

The blessing of a curse

2008-08-28T16:30:00.000-07:00

I navigate through this endless maze of madness, in search of the end, in search of the resolution, in search of closure. I long for the answer to the big question but must answer all these small questions along the way ... I stare in envy and somewhat jealousy of those who have comfortably set up tent with no plans to move anytime soon ..... For they live completely unaware of the fact that they exist in a huge maze .... An unanswered question ... An unending puzzle ..... Ignorance is bliss

I have been blessed with this curse .... To stroll this maze as an outcast ... A man with no tent to call home ... In fighting my inner demons i struggle to console myself, hoping that one day the discovery of the answer will bring me peace, .. will bring me justification, will bring me hope .... So i could finally explain the cause of my actions, so i can finally be accepted in at least one circle of thought ... As i breeze past the settlements, i pretend to be normal .. try to act like everyone else ... but am not .. am just a wanderer on a quest, and they should be to .... Ignorance is bliss

I cant help but wonder if there is only one way out .... the only way in which others "blessed" by the gods have found redemption ... I ponder about that day like a girl about her wedding ..... my redemption, my salvation, my demise, my answer. Yet at the same time i fear the answer like a well know plague ..... I fear it cause i am sure it would devour me alive .... For something somewhere tells me ..... THE ANSWER WILL BE MORE DRASTIC THAN THE QUESTION ...

kill the messenger

2008-08-22T20:35:00.000-07:00

"Kill the messenger for the thoughts of man are not sophisticated enough to handle this kind of complicated reality. Let us go to our churches and mosques and synagogues and temples and pray this one out. We don't have to take any action "God" will handle it for us" .... says the rabbi, pastor, imam and high priest

"Kill the messenger for i am truthful enough to admit my fear of the truth. Let us hold hands, unite and work together to continue to live the lie that has served us so well to date, for in "unity" we will progress even if it is further into lies" ..... says the politician

"Kill the messenger because with his death I will be able to get two extra seconds of peace, in denial of the message of truth he brings. Please allow me to squabble in my sorry state of ignorance for just a little while longer. Let me live oblivious of the true facts even though it is obvious that the situation will soon boil over as truth has almost always overcome lies and ignorance"..... says the average human being.

"To fear death, my friends, is only to think ourselves wise, without being wise: for it is to think that we know what we do not know. For anything that men can tell, death may be the greatest good that can happen to them: but they fear it as if they knew quite well that it was the greatest of evils. And what is this but that shameful ignorance of thinking that we know what we do not know?” .. counseled Socrates

Now repeat Socrates words but replace death with truth or reality .....

Until man can overcome his fear of the unknown we will continue to exist only in the know which is a system of lies and deceit. For how long will we continue to kill and silence the messengers of truth in order to evade reality........ Asks Owi :)

From the tomb of an insane mad man

2008-08-21T00:31:00.000-07:00

From the perspectives of conventional thought, man is held to certain standards, certain expectations, certain requirements and obligations .... We are all the unfortunate victims of this brutal system of mass indoctrination. Walking zombies doing what we are told and believing what we are taught. There is no space for flexibility and time for real questions ..... Everybody is too busy sticking to the script to even take a second to look at it all ......

The fallacy of "experts" and "pundits", of "professionals" and "adept individuals" is one thing and one thing alone: They all think they know. The key operative word in the prior sentence is think, as history has vividly proven that what man often thought it was has usually been very far from what it actually is today. The great Socrates is often quoted as counseling his followers thusly : "one thing alone do i know and that is that i know nothing" ............ I guess man has come a long way from that kind of beautiful wisdom to where we are today :) ........ Can we please have a moment of silence.

The schemings of a "professional" schemer can never out scheme the schemes of a professional thinker, as the professional thinker will be wise enough to know that the state of professionalism can never be achieved, thus eliminating the element of comfort and relaxation that comes with the false territory. The professional thinker remains hungry and ready to learn as he has already thought through the concept of professionalism and knows it can actually only be achieved in the false system that celebrates nobodies and glorifies nothings.

my struggle, my reality, my tragedy

2008-08-18T23:07:00.000-07:00

I strive to to see, strive to know, Strive to hope, strive to acknowledge. I hustle to emancipate myself from the white noise that very often clouds my sense of rationality and balanced thought ........ This is my struggle, this is my reality. Unfortunately, my reality is coincidentally my tragedy. Trust me when i say ignorance is bliss.......

My never ending struggle is like a double edged sword. All of a sudden i begin to see right through every situation...... i begin to approach issues from a very different perspective. Unfortunately most of the world never sees things like i see ...... this could be my tragedy....

People say that Friedrich Nietzsche died an insane man ... i say he died the most sane man .... He finally made peace with his struggle, his reality, and his tragedy. He finally came to terms with, and achieved the ultimate level of sanity, and must have laughed in mockery of the insane world that called him crazy......... I mean think about it who is actually crazy you or him ?? ... Most people actually believed it was him and that was his tragedy.

As i blaze on this harsh spliff called brutal reality, i further understand that not many will comprehend what i am trying to put across. the closer i draw towards the ultimate level of sanity, the more "insane" i will look. this is the irony of life. but as i stare at these social cyanide capsules, i wonder why i choose to gobble them down sooooooo quick. A million whys but less than one because. I walk down this path for an unexplainable reason. this is my tragedy