Monthly Archives: August 2016

hu man rhapsodies

there are many
characters to play
in life and the cast
is few
multiple roles
for all
they come and go
in your life
you see a bit of
someone you knew
in someone new
maybe we’re
characters, avatars, vehicles
for an actor
maybe that actor is
and they have friends to spare
for this little
production we call
our lives

whoever wrote it must be a genius, and may even
be writing it today
it never ends
what genre would you call

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sun and moon

try hard enough and maybe you’ll become immortal. you’ll die of course, it’s a guarantee. but your memory will live on. maybe in your children, but give them a few generations, and you’re forgotten like last wednesday’s lunch. maybe in the art you create, but given that there’s so much bullshit out there these days disguised as art, the lottery may be a better bet because you’re at least living in the moment in this game o’ life.

as far as being a good person, there’s very little to distinguish that from the difference from being a bad person. any reward or consequence will happen regardless; perspective is a magical thing. and as for karma – you’re basically placing all your money on a bet that you’ll be rewarded in the next life. belief is a magical thing.

i’ve played the pessimist and i’ve played the optimist. played the surrealist and played the realist. i’ve played many, many more. but in my research, i’ve found that i still can’t conform to the idea that chaos rules. i believe in controlled chaos. madness can be both weapon and tool. i suppose i believe in order as much as i believe in chaos. but i don’t believe any one person has the right to dictate what i choose. even if they’re huddled in masses reverberating the same broken record of an idea.

i’m law-abiding, but i will not hesitate when the perfect crime presents itself. not because it’s wrong and i want to stick it to the man or anything so mislead, but because i’m allowed to. the time to turn the other cheek had come and gone and got poor reviews, in my view. everyone seems to agree, not with what they say, but with their actions. slap back, baby. it’s only fair.

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is there a name for that feeling when you’re huddled up in the corner, muffling your crying and thinking, “i can’t take this anymore.”

i wanted to believe i was the only person in the world that felt that. i really wanted to. but sadly, i think some, maybe most of you feel that way. and we muffle it.

…alas, it may mean little to you, but i cry over my helplessness to help often. sure, nobody’s to bear the burden of the world… blah blah, but i have this burning empathy i CANNOT EXPLAIN! I hate you all. i do! i fucking hate you all!! …but i can’t help but care. in truth, i love y’ll very much. the fuckups, misfits, saints and them stuck in neutral. this place is so pretty. but the pretty really doesn’t pop as when it does with the shit in the background.

spending so much of life arguing with god or gods and it really seems i’m arguing with myself. is that it? the meaning of life. to defy gods, only to realize how you’ve defied yourself?

well done, pig. well done.

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cello is best.

as much as we laugh and promote the appreciation of little things in life, there’s some real stupid shit out there. we even try hard to be kind. some days, we feel like our kindness is absolutely overcompensating for our anger, and it’s like there’s this pool of rage we’re floating above, and it’ll take very little to get us to sink into it. is tolerance a coping mech or is it a chore? hope one day, it’ll cease being a word and graduate into instincts.

though today i wave my right for civility. i’m angry and i’m trying to control my anger through the medium of writing into this silly little log. but it’s sort of working. no heads will be severed from their torsos today.
you know how people pray to the heavens and stars and anything else for shit they want? i do that to. anybody that prays wants something, and i suppose that’s close enough to forgetting the point as forgetting the point can go. (i’m a maitreya, but i’m whispering it.) sometimes, i pray and ask the universe questions too. i ask if this place is a joke. all the signs are there. occam’s razor.

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coyote ugly

I had a dream, a lucid one. i was trying to get to this party up the hill. but it seemed like i lived up a countryside, greenery, squirrels and a shaky road. but all of a sudden a coyote comes roaring and growling at me. i had a brass shield polished to look like gold but it was brass. the coyote surrounded me and continued to spit things i couldn’t understand. i pulled the shield in close so i could stab it. apparently, i had a knife long enough to be a sword. i stabbed it.

the coyote relented little and continued it’s foamy growl around me. “leave me alone, i just want to party,” i remember thinking as i shielded her off. the wound i inflicted did nothing and i was going to to be late. i decided to continue up the hill, shielding myself. i don’t hate coyotes, in fact i kind of admire them, but this one was annoying the fuckin’ shit out of me. halfway up the hill, i see another coyote. but this one was different.

this one was on two front legs, dragging it’s body across the road. upon close inspection, i realized this one was half red. in blood. it had been hit by a car it seemed and the red was the drying blood on its own fur. i realized the first coyote wasn’t trying to kill me, i felt bad about stabbing it earlier, but it was trying to ask for help in a frenzied state. not for itself, clearly, but for her friend. i put my sword away, which seemed to shrink into nothingness and released the grip of my shield. “shhh, i know, i know. chilloooooout, girl, i’m gonna get you outta here.” i said. afraid of rabies, i worked wearily by her fangs. a fat fellow came to me and asked me what was going on. i told him the truth and he called animal control. this made me angry for some reason. “they would just put her down, along with her friend.” but i couldn’t kill this fat fellow.

i felt lost. and i didn’t want the coyotes to die, even though i stabbed one. but that was when i thought it was coming for me. but any creature that exerts the kind of love to care for another, is sentient and, i believe, has a soul. i have no right. i tried to stall, saying, “it’s okay, i’ll just keep them here, to the side of the road” but the one coyote kept getting out and growling at the fat fellow. he wore a shirt i used to own. got it from target, i thought. but i had to pick up my brass shield to shield this asshole but i did not un-sheath my sword. “think! before animal control gets here! these girls are dead once they do!”

all of a sudden, a bloodhound-beagle, a bleagle?, came. it mounted the dying coyote. went at it. i didn’t stop it, it was like a final conjugal visit. but the coyote stood up on all fours after. then the bleagle mounted the other one. “think of the hunting and smelling the kids can do afterwards!” i thought to myself. the bleagle fucked the coyote girls back to life, licked my hand and took off into the hills. i looked at the fat fellow still on his.cellphone and when our eyes locked, i ran back down the hill. i no longer cared about the party. it was only 7:18 a.m.

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making peace is a joke. as above so below, they say. what are you making peace with, and what gives you the right to decide your authority to make peace? fool.

as the rule goes, i don’t believe it means what happens above corresponds with what happens below. not even front to back or left to right. if time is truly infinite for them then so is my suffering, of which, makes it much easier to understand and cast off as if nothing. dear dear, watchers, angels, nephilim or aliens or whatever you’re tricking us into calling you… are you actually… babysitters? do you expect another job after this one, in the same house? aaaaaah physcial traits and mental projections kinda show you we weren’t just regular kids, huh? we started thinking after you set up the farm. to shape us a certain way. but why do that? you were our brothers and sisters! anyway, we rallied. and the few of us that saw through it are pretty pissed. good game, bro.

i think it was my sisters who sort of hinted, “when i get my powers back…” well, it didn’t mean much. as far as i knew, i didn’t have any power. i just sat there, and took it. not even from you, but from emissaries, in a way. could you not face me? I, a simple man, with nothing, except the encouragement of my fifty and more sisters. i’m like Nerites. the one , bro, surrounded by 50 hot nymph sisters and yes incest is frowned upon, but… well all 50 of my sisters are unbelievably hot. i ain’t advocating incest, but i guess i’m saying, i have plenty of sisters out there, and i will crush you unbelievably with the fury of multiple collapsing universes if you disrespect a single one. if not me, i will send an emissary.

Respect my sisters, and i will be a kind man. Offend or hurt them, and i will not strike back immediately. i will watch you, and wait to strike when you believed you could take no more. a scorpion in a vast desert that somehow finds its mark.

besides that, we’re connected. somebody probably freaked out on your cell as you read this, but the truth is, we all sort of did. chance, is not a game. i guess it’s gotten to the point chance is not a game! =D  but see.
6      8

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shoes too big, to fit world with no room

the interesting thing about this world is opinions. I could put opinions into quotations, but i’d feel like i’ve drawn your attention away from the actual matter at hand. for centuries, they’ve taken over, and i mean taken over as in (divide and conquer), anything and everything you’ve believed in. honestly, i think it’s brilliant. I started out on the other side, let you call me names, but always acted in your own best interest because yallz were like a little brother and or sister to me. i’d cycle through defensive behaviors and nonchalant behaviors hoping you’d have learned from mistakes of previous identical behavior. but their nails had sunk deep. ‘what did we learn to make fun of that?’ it wasn’t too deep, and it wasn’t deep enough to be identified. tacticians vs. thinktanks. both are clever beyond human bounds. but, you can tell, if you’re human, which side you should fight for. sure they sound like the same thing, but one plays checkers, one plays chess but the one that plays Go. sounds like a trinity to me.

you WILL notice that the strange things that are happening around you, are happening around you. no one else. and then you have to decide, whether it was a coincidence, or providence. then you’ll have to reconsider everything in your world if ya caught it. what an inconvenience. all that money dishonestly earned. sheesh.

but where does that really put us? the youth of the future taught and primed to run the future of our species through deliberate miscalculations? the truth is, when they attempted to be ‘bad guys’ they set off a fuse. and i honestly didn’t know where it led. but i think it’s something akin to lethal weapon 3’s ending.

well, you give us too little credit. we’ve seen lethal weapon 3. here’s the kicker, you meanies lived up top while we all had this Lt. Riggs approach to it all. you forgot aaaaaall about Murtaugh. the older father figure that tries to commit boundaries and rules and ultimately sets up the punchline. and yes, some of us millenials really are too old for this this.

i don’t know what dickhole you put in front of uscc, united states current conflicts, but if he graduated college with a jerkoff degree that doesn’t mean dick in a ring, in a poolhall, in a reddit argument… he ain’t one of us. and we’ll know. our displaced wisdom always bubbles up in the area of the pool you wouldn’t think to look. OH! like the last place you’d look for your missing keys!!!!!!!

(i made up uscc, i’m not googling it, in case it’s something embarrassing.)

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song sung by no one

i could’ve done more. but i chose to melt everything. i wanted everyone to feel what it feels like to have dreams in the palms of their hands and melt them thusly. is it cruel? we try so hard to abide by your rules and regs that we’re willing to deny what our very souls shout for.

i need you to know, this has never ended well for either side.

are sides really the argument? nope. you demons have a better understanding of time and thusly are not perturbed. but you know what that sounds like to resilient humans? a fucking challenge. research your records, foul beasts, and you’ll see we’ve become more foul tha you. it scares you. ‘we scared the boogyman’. fuck you, you bully ass cocksucker. the living are infinitely more terrifying than you could ever be.

but. liberte. lets work together. help us, dear, deadly departed. you feel it don’t you? That good can overpower the bad. but what if good and bad are the same thing when you include intent? what are you? who are you? who are you trying to please?

many of us want this game to end. it feels like a game. of course, in game terms, everybody wants to win. but in humanist terms, if there is someone out there, make us all lose. it’s only fair.

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hughman show

i was thrown into the ocean by my father. seemingly for no reason. i assumed he was angry at me. i was the oldest of his kids. underwater, i could see above the surface at the shimmer of his red beer can. it was all i could see. i saw him laugh with his friends, his brothers and could see he wasn’t mad at me. he was telling his friends that i could do it. I could learn how to swim then and there. i was already 8, and knew i couldn’t swim. it was there that, in the waters that i made my first friend. death. i didn’t fight, i decided to drown and simply die. it was then death showed me he was my friend

he didn’t take me. and i had not drowned. i realized my feet touched the floor. it felt like the first time my feet had touched the floor. my breath was still in me. i realized no one was coming to save me. i just looked above the water at everyone. time had stopped. and became enraged not from what had been done to me. i was a child, i didn’t know then, but my father was right. i could do it. i walked, one foot over the other and walked out of the sea. i’ve never been able to enjoy a family beach party since then.

growing up stank. we were poor. we didn’t speak the native tongue of the land. but that didn’t stop us. my dad had to leave, but i had a resilient mother. rose. but i had a little brother. david. fantastic young chap. but i had to be the man of the house. at 8. i didn’t get to have a childhood. i spoke for my mother because she didn’t understand the human tongue. i had to translate. my lullabyes were legal letters from the government about how to get aides.

i’ve said this story to very special people to me before. but until now, i didn’t know how special this story really was. i went by so many names. people always said so many stories about me. when i heard them, i was appalled. they talked about me as if i was another person. but i just smiled more and more as i got older. i laughed more and more at things as i got older. the stories kept coming and i never knew what the hell they were talking about. i was drunk half the time. it’s easy to fall into bad habits when you come from a cracked home. but i always made it a priority to laugh and to make others laugh.

when i’m alone, i feel like the moon. misunderstood, beautiful and always bringing light to all, even in the dark. on my darkest days, i feel like no one see’s me. and it’s alright. i know i’ll come back. i always do. suicide never works because my buddy, death, don’t wanna take me. almost like he knows something. he encourages me. several times, he showed me how much he didn’t want to take me by taking away everybody else. some, i cared deeply for. i was so angry. anger isn’t an emotion i’ve dealt with much in my life. but i understood. so i laughed it off. everyone looked at me like i was nuts. i’m dumb, but not that dumb. i knew i looked crazy. but i just laughed when i was angry. smiled when i was sad.

i’m older now. 30. the big three-oh. i live the childhood i was denied. but somehow, i became wiser because of it. i still hear stories about me. it sounds like a terrible, evil person they’re talking about. sometimes i did the funniest things. elaborate joker, life of the party. but, i just like to drink sometimes. it’s utterly boring to be the same person all the time. funny, happy. nobody’s like that all the time. so i let Him out now and then. but it’s alright. in a way, i kind of like hearing those stories. i’m not harboring anything, and that’s a stabilizer. then, when i actually introduce myself, everybody relaxes and calms down. i throw out a joke or two. hang out a little longer than necessary before i leave with hugs. then i look at the moon. it’s always night. to some, i’m like sunshine, but honestly, i feel more like the moon. people shouldn’t believe everything they hear about another person. they’ll miss out on big deals some times. but it’s alright.

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sometimes i think silly things. here’s one i thought of today. what if they used jesus as a ‘heroic’ sort of figure to idolize, kinda like iron man, wolverine, spiderman, or they who defied the things imprinted upon us. was jesus the first graphic novel? it reads like a graphic novel, and when you get to the backstories of certain characters, it’s like, whaaaaaat?! that’s dope! but the thing is, it’s been happening longer than you think. almost like they continuously do this through generation and generation. It’s like they can predict generations almost!! no that’s horseshit. but it’s true. that’s why you feel like you’re inbetween right now. i know. kitten mittens.

okay, so, i like the idea of a second cumming. but i also like the idea that it would involve the destruction of many and most. people are fucking assholes. they’ve moved beyond predictive programming in a way, they just went straight for the light. like a cute little moth. but, the actual truth is, despite all conspiracies and things we can akashikally cover… we’ve already lost. we’ve been doing that for years. when i say years i meant it was practically neverenduuung story. though, this i feel, is what them assholes want us to say. fuck them. fuck aliens. you gotta understand the ‘spirits’ right next to you.this lightning bolt coven you speak of. zeus babies. fuck you. poseidon will crush you. however, they are like us, as above so below. you fake these enemies for us. but you can’t trick those who can see it. so. come at us. find us. quiet us. because this will continue because you are a disgusting fungal creature.

your white argument where you consider brother’s like gilgamesh, were white. i implore you to continue this proposition. i implore you to speak. do what thou wilt. haha. yeah politicos, actors, blah blah blah…….you are incrediby wrong about this hexigram. instead, you made yourself a being that would try to procreate with yourself. it sounds stupid, yes. but you really are stupid. let me ask you this. did they show you what the real world looks like

i suppose, after the things i hated to do, you were right. we can confront and destroy so much of the things that happen. they tell us this is a terrible thing, but what if, just what the fuck if, we were born here to fuck shit up? there are so many things i don’t believe in. but i feel irrationably strong about crushing it all. and i can. we all can. that’s where they send agents to tell us, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay… but it really is okay. who wants to be the human that defies what we think is the word of god. whoever the fuck that is. he could be you. he could be them. he could be me.

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