Monday, February 23, 2009

Vortex

In the confluence, in the abyss, darkness lived,
Guiltless liberation, and the start of all that is forbidden.
The death of innocence and the birth of fear,
The rage that describes the pleasure of pain…and the pain of pleasure,
The darkness is you.
No escape for the child of the vortex,
Their loss the battle of the spirit.
Life is the sentence you serve,
Death the prison you occupy.
God, suicide, or rebirth,
Hell is a prison of fears,
And death a silent spectator.
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©Proverbs07-2009

The One

The abyss is a refuge from the trials of a disobedient mind,
And solace found in cold dead things, little pleasures.
The smile slips and the back breaks from the weight of a thousand voices,
But my scream of torment is the burden of rage.
Wisdom was divine, knowledge a pleasure,
Yet the ether burns deeper than clarity of sight.
No regrets, just retribution required of the last second.
‘Someone cut the lights!’
I’m the enemy and sex a dark friend.
The Warrior’s cut alerts me,
Another strike at the price of sanity, fear’s time is done.
The spirit moves with certainty, judgement is tomorrow’s nightmare.
Another voice to free!
The air boils with wrath,
Another 9-5er dead, the code commands,
There’s no debate, I’m the chosen one,
No escape for Trouble’s son, this bullet’s for you.
You’re stranded on my side.
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©Proverbs07-2009

Friday, February 13, 2009

Under the Influence

The company of rage questions a disobedient mind,
Say thanks to Kumar but the battle reigns supreme.
I’m looking at green and seeing black,
One drag, one pull and I’m in the zone,
The vibes lie, I hold the heat.
Tension’s a monkey on my back and darkness a friend.
God, I never believed it could be so dark.
Smoke…shadows…‘I judge me!’
Have no fear, another duel.
There’s folly in these games, a childish exercise,
Flip the coin and let it land on the palm of an outstretched hand,
This soldier’s tired of fighting.
‘Silence!’ It’s not your turn, not your time.
A few more years, a day too late and I won’t give a damn,
A white cut never bleeds,
Time won’t beat me,
I live a life of alternatives.
The next war is mine,
I’m ready to blow,
‘Lets all go!’
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©Proverbs07-2009

Sunday, February 8, 2009

John Self

God works in mysterious ways, life makes no sense and happiness comes in the strangest packages. You’ve heard the story about the man who complained he had no shoes until he met someone with no feet. There ends the story. No explanation. The End. Figure it out for yourself.
There ought to be a law against telling cryptic stories to those without the minimum IQ requirements. It took me awhile to completely appreciate the moral behind that story. Basically, everyone should be content and grateful with their lot in life. Got no money? Neither has anyone else so let’s all be poor and pretend to be happy. No husband, wife? You get more bed space without having to negotiate. No friends, no one likes you? NO RESPECT?! Why waste valuable time in the pursuit of more grief? Don’t you think your life is stressful enough without introducing more clutter? That’s right, be grateful and content with your lot.
Not a bad moral for a story except for one small thing. It’s a lie. Lets be honest, more is good. When Gordon Gecko confidently declared that ‘greed is good’ he freed us moral simpletons from a lifetime of guilt at wanting more. More, more, more. More holidays, more clothes, more cars, more houses, more drugs, more champagne, more sex, more guns, more money. That’s what it boils down to. More money. No one’s got enough and we all need it. More money. At some point in my life I remember some smart guy somewhere calculated that one million dollars should be enough to live on for the rest of one’s life. Hah! I’ve not yet hit a million dollars but I could spend it in fifteen minutes, and that’s slow. Give me more money. And when you’re done, give me more ‘cos it just wasn’t enough. Go on, bail ME out, I need more money.
The hardest thing in life is to live with an under-utilised mind, unable to appreciate and exploit whatever opportunities exist in one’s life. Refusing to think intelligently or at least logically, the poor soul is doomed to a lifetime of ignorant under-achievement. He is not dim-witted or mentally disabled, just plain lazy. The need to critically evaluate and optimise a range of options under any set of circumstances appears unnecessary or feels too hard. Plain lazy…and stupid.
This is the tragedy of John Self.