Do you know social justice warrior? The bs rigmariole, intellectuals know better, mental health problemo. Every goddamn pseudo revolutionary has an opinion bout allbrainwash. Their words and griping so important. The speechifying of shithead wannabes is deafening my ears. Give em a medal! They’re soo right. They’re epitome of leftist healing. Fuck dem poser, bumba, I know more about ‘your ‘ struggle liars.
Anything can be made real
Human fear of imagine, transition, spooky ghost light phantasm.
My paranoia drunken jew Allen thoughts turned proper parable real.
Scared that I forgot what was live and what was dream.
Sabretooth Hyde taking over and I ‘m like it so thriller.
Bombastic sinnery and me self so deathly sinful
Loverly painful, darkness embraceful
Change the pieces and give in to vengeance
Anger rising, peaceful, enthralling, fuck them pussyclots. Wanna rage, crush, fuck a kill no regrets.
Demonseed no reject. Accept the beast cuz so fun yeah.
Inner me too hard too exorcise. Try each year and accept the lapse. Too much stress for dickless anger bang
High-pitched voices screeching you should know this
Essays and blogs and video ramblings
Dissection of justice and politics for overhead perusal
Med students looking at open chests wondering what to do
Bright light shining down as another part shadowed
Multitask to keep up
Feeds, vids and apps to show us the pathways
Overload, overcharges, WIFI economy
Value-added content from seven sided slicks
Words words tossed up and spread like salad wraps
Think you’re getting nutrition but just water and bread
Iceberg lettuce and flats
Empty feeling but low fat
From Occupy to occupied
Where you lay your hat
Which side you vote for
Which app is best
What other thing was ignored
Pushed aside and untrended
Wallow in the annals of forgotten web threads
Forum outrage to nitpick new pix
Social parity on hold
JLaw got a new book!
Those dangling chains that ride around with you
You pierce those lips with metal rings
Shut the voice for that muted message
And it may speak volumes for a second but it doesn’t echo through
Eardrums that siphon and filter the message hollow and sweet
Medium makes it palatable for the passing
Some pay it forward while the leads reap the fees
Closed ears, open eyes
Seeing the silence, muted abusive
Social death they call it but the same old shit
Try to learn more but swimming in confusion
Mixed messages and counter points
Multithreaded hands and fingers directing every which way
Monolithic monument men and women lost in the fray
Spider webs, dark alliance, shadow puppets moving on the light in the cave
Symbolism and jingoism one and the same
The truth strikes with the assembling of right words
Slippery orators get at you with Ted Talks
Felt more honesty with the CGI bear
Once more satire says what’s between my ears
Spurted out eloquence but it’s thinned out rage
Hate this hate “them” hate myself for hating
Rotating emotional cycles all the caring types suffer
Keep walking up hills trying to escape the buzzard
People picked apart but they don’t give up the struggle
Pieces lay in streets for sweepers to take up
Keep the fight in the dog to deal with murderous
the haters multiply and many green men jealous
aliens in the neighborhood safer than locals
bake pies for liars and act all pious
lip service gone barking mad on us
go wuha wuha like Snowy french connection
title the hills alive
rock mountains bold
ice cold rehold
retake border patrol
take the fruit from the homosapiens
rob the youth of soul
third eye blind
hook and bait for wormy fools
dice up the ranks like cutty
skin on the drum like basement party
basement jaxx jazzy snaps
where me head at
don’t know a thing
rhyming without proof
just slow roll singin
fugue state rappin
stream of forgotten consciousness children
lollipop younglings buzz breakbeat atop me
sugarplums hightail but suckers still dancing
fairytale concepts ripen in mindset
Don’t think conclusions so stay at beginning
stone’s throw receding
I curve the projectiles to safeguard the victim
the angry innocent who ain’t so heaven sent
fuck with people then holler harassment
shame spirals squiggling
trapped in a void zoid burgh state
parks and wrecks mentality
Shang Tsung fatality
fireballs grate on me
House of the Dead, Dostoevsky’s assemblage of his time in a Siberian work prison and his attempt to once again tell something of the human condition, his zeitgeist, spirits within and away.
Trying to pay attention and get through one page of a book again I stop and think/rethink/clink glasses of ice and whiskey no more neat drinks, and question us humans and Fyodor’s need to embrace and explain all society’s people. The reason I like him so much is it feels he does the same things as me and tries to hold onto this world and its people, flaws and foibles, misery and warmth, with this reasoning of our horrid emotions and mistakes. Aging and wisdom should be about some acceptance and understanding we all falter and flounder and flatter our failings. His acceptance and thoughts on the common man, the corrupt man, the strong person and the weak ones is his holding on to this troubled lot and embracing the errs and heirs of errs, he writes of these characters reflecting the world, Russian society, egos wisping through life, to rationalize each of us as a necessity. Life as we know it must encompass all of us and may be you need not love fellow man and woman but understand, try to understand the magic of man.
I feel the need to do this constantly, resist aversion and misanthropic sprees that tempt and please the darker part of me; black solids undulating against bright thoughts till engulfed morbidity.
There is flaw and frailty in every person. Every wisp just recollections of frightened eyes gazing upon a new world with light that beckons and burns. If I am here I am here to understand, given flesh and body and mind to comprehend this evolving vision.
Humans around; sensitive spirits, fools rushing, fading
making due with graces and goddamn
attaching to others for none shall be left alone
even when they resign themselves to it
even when they give in and fall
nails scraping on bottom pit
raw bloody snap breaks
push on knuckles to rise from the hard and hurt
nervous sweat drops on concrete
sound like muted thunder in ringing ears
frail arms lag and flex
weak so weak so sick of weak
self-lock prison crawl for break
eyes cast forever down, see the spots of light
follow, crawl, to crevice out of hole
Keep going back to Dostoevsky characters. The Underground Man type stewing too much and devouring himself. Feeling pride is hurt, his person is being rejected too often by fellow dicks, continue to try with them then give up, isolate, try again ad nauseum anon. Keep trying but you fail in a way, do not con right, play the game with the proper words and facial expression. Give a smidgen but pull back, do not get too personal or close. Others tell all and complain about the minor key problems but you cannot, TMI and not interested eyes. Listen to annoying blarg inanity while you’re cell talking and throw uncreative humor around the tables or venue while I cringe internally. Bad of me but my expectations are always too high and never learn, never downsize my version of hope. Not a postivist shiny type anymore but hate giving in to apathy and fuck the world mentality. It is my nighttime friend but I let him know he is rotting.
There is this twisting of a person’s pride and honor that appears sporadically/frequently/annoyingly. We are meant to deal and control it, control the addiction of proving and ego, but it can clash with the sense of ‘fairness’ or not letting the assholes win. Keeps happening. My mind doth fill with the reiteration of this and that happening “generation after generation” poinsettia. I know better, we know better, I hope to lordy we do, though the clincher comes and our feathers get ruffled and dog fight lizard brain nonsense comes to the fore. My goal is better, to better, Ahimsa and Nirvana mindstate. Too pompous for so called enlightenment so I figure I do the peace of mind. Peace of mind in a ludicrous circus tent cranium.
The work is necessary but alas I have the bitterness and misanthropic stain, the human stain. I have painted some such screed upon my internal demon to feed vileness and badness. I aggravate me and see aggravation, push people to ‘school’ ’em, teach these spoiled children lessons about principles and caring about rightness whatever age. Self-involvement and narcissistic bent pervasive and alluring; lessons of defending the attitude of the day and notions of ‘it’s my life,’ bon bons for Nowtime. I ams what I ams and ever shall be, let me parade in buffonery. I myself get stuck and foolish and look ridiculous to the laughers and pointers though I keep the concept of goodness and morality, my morality, around me, in me. I have little beliefs in anything and do not follow the purpose explained to common society with the whole cog in the system and nationalism that swells with the up and up career and capitalism.
Not satisfied with the junk.
People sticking needles of portrayed success and doctrine duty.
Full of self.
Speak act and be wrong.
Sayeth that guy and girl.