People parroting the punitive popular propaganda of the political class demagogues, should contemplate where there true voice lies. For when the political mind shifts to a dogmatic view beyond any rational and therefore reasonable question of morality. Will they in those dire straights have the voice they currently use to shout down free thought, to fight against a system no longer espousing truth, but carefully refined and cleverly designed narratives who’s aims is only total control and exhaustion of your will to stand individually and uniquely human. Subtracting your form from the framework of society, under the guise of enriching the zeitgeist; toward accelerating progress and innovation. Though they forget this is a feature of a people free to think and live in terms grounded in there own sense of self, made possible by an open matrix of expression. When will we remember this fact of the world we inherently created for all of us to partake in? Keeping an eye and a foothold on reality before the wool is pulled over all our eyes and the rug ripped from underneath our feet. If you match your beliefs instead of self generation, we will all burn up in the sweltering heat of the endless chambers of hot air.
Excerpt from Hidden valley Horror story.
An excerpt I threw together with pictures I had lying around in my phone.
Life’s nothing but a confusing puzzle….The more you complete, the more you begin to realize just how many pieces have gone missing over the years. Making you bear witness to all that you regret. though, it’s only in the end we realize, those final pieces we’d been searching for, never existed in the first place. As every life has empty spaces, regardless of your best intentions. That’s what makes us human, the will to carry on, even if you can’t say who you are is without regret. All the same, piece together a legacy you can call your own, in all its incomplete, imperfect, unique, glory.
Who can say, when a lifes in full bloom. Do we decide, or does the world tell us when we’re set in the perfect spot. Do we sit and bask in the sun at the summit, or foot of the mountain. Is it us that casts the shadow, or do we starve in the dark overhang of another we find greater. I know what I choose, so let us all sit at the giants table, even if we are small, we all have the potential to cast a shadow a mile long. And make it so, the smallest lonely flower, atop the greatest of ranges, is the height of excellence.
Who am i…..
Am i lost, a wanderer cast out doomed to venture further and further into the wastes of a mind only comsumed by darkness.
To have such capacity for good, and yet so demonstratively brutal a vicious intent. towards hate and artfully disseminated machinations of destruction. I have touched down where others thought not possible, to fall down a bottomless pit only to prove wrong the will of man. To be insane and realize it, truth lies in reality, lying in wait to steal unkempt breaths. fearing time, though time does not exist, but in the mind, an idea, an abstraction, a custom of knowledge, the cadence of curtailed freedoms self expression. Systemic of its intention to breed more dishonest foreboding epitaphs of humanity’s hubris. I have nothing but contempt for the human species, this race of desiccation, greed and monotony. Crude and crueler fates align, eloquently baroque beauty of selfless inhibitions, over arching narratives bleed for bleeding sake. Forgetting the one fact that stakes claim to the heart of true providence, incredulity.
Master of wanting but master of none, narrow your vision, quiet discontentment. Grasp but one thing attainable, to use as steping stones to reach the next trial that awaits.
Who is this…who am i becoming now….
I plug my ears, listening to my heart beating, and yet i can’t feel it, until i think about feeling it. Such a limited mind we have, and we expect of ourselves, to know it all. how many kilobytes of useful knowledge do we possess in this zetabyte ad infinium system we call a mind. Most can’t even string together a few paragraphs worth let alone make a cohesively affective argument. So I guess it could be said I take my literary and standard intelligence for granted; then again I’ve structured a life that can be lived with such ease, an asured fate, that any lesser mind could lead it. so if i had my persistent cumulative intellectual growth halted or even reverted back to a time i still believed in fairy tales, would it really matter. Actually it might bring me some level of peace if thats what i wanted.
Though, what do I want, what is it I’m really after when all’s said and done. What I truly want is in the course of my routine self reflection, to for once, feel that i have something concrete i can offer. When you look under the veil of who i am in the world, this mask i present, you see a depth rarely legitimate in the eyes of this world. I keep relying on my own outdated ideals, to show nothing but let be discovered the real fathoms, the unbridled elation of finding, I am more than anyone thought possible. All this has never brought me happiness. I have only known misery in this life, because instead of the intended effect of discovery of hidden ability, it has only led me to becoming an expert at subversion. And in a world where most can’t see beyond a very narrow margin, I just seem as hollow as I allowed others to see me, as a being devoid of all things, never allowing anyone to discover that, which i have become master at cloaking…….
I want to see the sky, I want to see you lie, these words aren’t meant for you, there meant for I. Idolatry, iconoclastic, take me passed this burning matchstick. Robbed of sight and hard of hearing, lead astray to life’s grand clearing. Does the night yet long for the day, lingering fraught with agony and dismay. The tortured soul fixed between two equal impossibilities, and the walls are closing in. I feel as if I could drown in the shallow end of my intention, the weight of a decision still creeping beyond apprehension. What makes a man, how come no one seems to understand, that I wake up everyday, alone and in pain. A pain, I can not see, or taste, or touch, I’ve felt it for so long now, a desire to be known. Though, I fear I’ll miss the serene silence I’ve become accustomed to, wondering if making an impression, is really worth the trouble. Will I be a dead poet in a society of some distant future, before I finally make, my mark on the world.
just for tonight stop looking……
to discover whats already here…
so where does my adventure begin,
what great ocean awaits….
i must first define what i need to stop looking for so i can know myself, but not what i imagine myself to
be, because the person i dream of, is an illusion blocking me from the truth. i imagine a man, great, noble, brilliant, but also; licentious, corrupted, and insane; i imagine a man wanting the best for the world, to see all suffering eradicated and true utopia arise as humanity reaches for its full potential, and yet; lustfully dreams of destruction for all things, to drag the world so far down, our eyes sufficate in the all consuming shroud of darkness, and the sounds of the dying…the cries of the dead…, become a continuum of agony, as dystopia desends upon humanity, they reach for the ashes of a broken future.
that is who i imagine i am….
but i also imagine a “real” version,
a secondary illusion…
i see a ghost, a watcher, moving through life on an empty train, looking out through the window, time moves fast, only lingering on the times i should have been, i often wonder; wandering from instant to
instant, why am i, who am i, where do i belong, the world turns to dust as i watch the home movies of my life over…..and over, trapped inside the misery of my own soliloquy. a solitary existance, carefully planning one move to the next, trying to avoid failure, but failing to start playing. i also see a shadow, silent, guarded, and afraid; quietly afraid of what i have to say, i fear I’m hiding who i am today, always living behind, the times eroding my memory, what do i do, when will be to late, why…..?, these things i say inside my head, as the world eclipses me, my eyes bleed, clearly i taste the bitter reality, all i have is nothing, a glass waiting and just that, the substance of my forfillment is unobtainable, and yet
inescapable….on a ghost train to nowhere…..
and now…….what is left?………
I’ve learned so much, yet know so little, I speak so much lesser, then this disquieted mind can muster. Fevered dreams and fervent feelings, thine tongues twisted epithets, grace such cold dark spaces of this hollow universe. The graying of my eyes, an entropic merger of both light and dark, a consolidation of my shadow, with the neverending radiance of my soul. How hath thouest come to bear such great burdening, at the behest of the world. Why doth this time stand so devoid of mystery, adventure, and purpose. What is left in this world, but the lonely ancient remnants of a history forgotten.
Why do I feel like escaping so early in the morning, only to be sold on staying by the afternoon. It hurts so much this longing to be certain. The paradox of trying to hold on to the status quo, while your mind wonders beyond, reaching for more, for something new, a path of deeper meaning, one that brings greater purpose to a life gone dull, its edges blunted, and colors drained of vibrancy. Though, why do we fain such constrained fealty, to an existence growing colder by the day. Do we normalize, these empty versions, overlaying a world given a chance to succeed, a pareidolia, a phantom image, creating an environment we can tolerate. Though, in our tolerance, a languishing of present tense, rusts away a seemingly solid foundation, until, nothing is left, of the man you used to be. Do the mighty succumb to such encumbrances, or is the key to power a finding of this said certainty, yet the preclusion of nullified turbulence, can never be undone by a mere wanten desire alone. Its must take root, from base singularity to fully extended expression. So, when will I taste the delicious pleasures of fruitful ambition, learning to release my grasp on my petrifying old beliefs, and set sail, on a harsher, yet stronger current, rife with risk and danger, but in the end, non greater can be forged, but through the trials of their labours, being taken by difficulty, with the guardians at the gate of your attainment, the ghosts of all your past failures, standing as the greatest obstacles you must over come.