cahrizz

and so it goes... ah vonnegut was so right about war. if this comedy were written by cervantes himself i would be the least surprised. but that i will let alone as billions of tax dollars goes gurgling down the drain. but that is not what i like nor is it for me to be a part of(and yet i somehow am oh fucking irony and your stupified batting od eyes).

so here i am in this strange netherland of life alive but not alive free and ye not free full of complaints and yet...well i did this to myself. and what freedom do i defend when the only true freedom is what freedom you grant yourself. never look to statemen or governments for the answers. rich men write the rules in an english hardly used switching at their leisure latin maxums if they so choose. they deceive with caveat and preemptors. do not be squared serptiptiously by these dotted lines on maps. look at a globe as a globe and what you see in space is it not real. does not physics correct or broken lenses and reassure the railroad tracks that merge in the horizon and that are quick to steal away from us the roundness. what claim has anyone over another to an ocean but the responsibility to no longer devalue other lives and possiblities hardly even whispered in the dreams the childrens' children you did not forsee coming from your young tender wombs. my children all of them stillborn lie screaming in my dreams and i throw posies upon their little tufts i call graves and wonder about what might have beens ha they been. dance upon the difficulties of the aborted lifes and dreams of poets who carroused at too long a length and drank too much of the river they reels in forgetfulness. my dimmed polaroid memories with their enchanted echoes that laugh in ghostly greys o move about me through the days and still with this amber trap of sadness and melancholia i smile and laugh and taste joys of which few would dare. do you know what muse might become flesh my mistress who makes me blush and tortures me with all these thoughts and dreams and incarnates herself first in one woman and then another and yet another again so though i try to dig in and implant flesh and the capracious winds that blow about and the screams and shouts the broken vases slammed against tennament walls long fled from and the roulette wheel spins closer and closer to being my number an i dig in deeper and deeper into my empting pockets to find that through these tortorous days and nights hope keeps a fire ablaze when all should go out into the quiet dew soaked night. let a new fire be lit. let freshness like a babe be given. this rebirth i feel coming. when i step into the jungle i want these boots to ware holes from the travel and possess something that my great mistress shall most likely deprive me off so that i might desire to fuck some other thinly whore instead of her and stick neeles into my arms to escape her rages and dance the slow dance of junky love and take to the heavens while this corporeal flesh rots and decays bandied about its days and littered rags will talk of a promise that was and will snap out like the petting go of a lighter and time will pass through. alas poor yorick for i knew him well. he was my fathers jester. he used to carry me about on his shoulders... and there life is divided and how it rankles the nose that so close a line must be drawn that we edge upon this thing called death with fears and yet one end might lead into another...womb? like swimming in an ocean or walking into a dark unknown and it disarms you so you forget the others you knew who have already passed through. you curse what life you hadn;t led. and here we say courage man, courage. but yet it has nothing to do with you and your fragile ego. so let go. and yet it has everything and the judgements railed. timothy leary you stubbled nosed ghost. drop in and tune out or such other nonsense. drop the acid. but do not hide in the distortions that come but see how like a latern or now a days on the screen you can make something that look as if it were real. and so it is a question of reality. take on this badge of insanity because like a skull that mocks its master's rest so insanity mocks....


the rage builds up and has almost a sweet taste among these bitter dregs. revenge revenge revenge. WAKE UP WAKE UP WKAE UP hold that fresh dewy morning air so cool it almost stings the nose with purity. in such a short life i watch too much of this world falling to shit and money make monkeys out of men who starch up their suits and play about with confidence. die. fuck it. die. do not try. to cry for the mercies you stole. we're coming for the dinner titus has served us and since you don;t have sons let us feast upon your daughters. let the blood flow across the streets and let us no longer believe in the fallacy we called democracy


fucking around with words lol