With so little to live for, no future in sight, whom do I trust in life? Not mother, nor brother, nor my deceased father, neither aunts, nor uncles, nobody called cousin, not my dead grandparents of whom I never knew, not ghosts called ancestors, not nephews, nor nieces, no extended family chose to see dysfunction, the alcoholism that consumed my family, taking sides in a war of all against the goat. With no one else to blame, I became their scapegoat. This is the reason why I want nothing from them. Let them burn in their hell, I will laugh as I watch like Dante and Virgil, in the bowels of Hades. Abandon all hope you, infant child, who exits the womb, the warmth of lies, to enter from darkness into the light, the world being right in between emptiness and ether, formlessness and the forms, the shadows of the cave, Plato and Socrates taught us well of silence, of solitude, and space. Deep inside the darkness, in a seaside cavern, I wait for loneliness to subside like the tides, I wander as a cloud, lonely, across the sky, to merge or dissipate. I catch a lonesome crab in a pool in the cave, saltwater seeps through rocks, forming a stream, beneath which I cannot escape. My prison, without sun, or moon, only darkness, without language, or thought, only words come to you because you cannot know, or begin to process how I understand life, how I live for nothing and no one but to die, however, I must live until death comes for me.
Funny thing is no one cares a lick what I write, unless I confront them in person, as they say, "Out of sight, out of mind," problems never exist until they effect you, until they oppress you, until they overwhelm the mind to confusion, until they bother you every waking moment, until you cannot sleep, because until that time nobody in the world has worries but their own. And why ever should they? My problems are my own, I carry them within, they follow everywhere I go, they never leave, like a gift from childhood, slaps, kicks, punches, beatings, the reward to punish because punishment is the only cure for life lived in opposition to the family values of denial and blind eyes to turn and look away at the damage we do to children we care for to make them understand how to be good adults, where conformity rules along with status quo.
The artists and shamans, anarchists, radicals, and upstarts, the bad kids intentionally go against the flow because someone needs to speak truth against the ignorance of fools and demagogues in systems of power. To protest in person is the only method, other than leverage, in terms of politics, these are the only ways to get the attention to confront oppressors when law and order seems unworthy of justice. When we bypass the good for acts of violence, for evil done against people who cause no harm, who make fatal mistakes, who wolf whistles at sheep, such is the history here in America. No one needs reminders from a soapbox pundit, but I must speak my piece.
What matters in this life is skills to pay the bills, sex and the carefree life, drugs, alcohol and fun, nothing more, nothing less, after this, murder seems a technicality, but mothers tend to weep with their family members in front of news cameras. Media plays a role in the game of justice, they help define morals, ethics, belief systems that place a check on hate, on contempt for wisdom, on a world without love for others, only self, just their vested interests.
I am tired of lies, deception, and falsehood, of hustlers and hagglers, of this life without hope, where pain and misery, sorrow and suffering are the norm, the constant, the light within darkness, the death throes of dwarf stars, the emptiness of space, infinite, eternal, never ending trouble, I drown in memories, the past becomes present until I confront time and gaze into the pool will the future open and I will become free as grey wolves in the woods.
But arguments arise between people and me without rhyme or reason, as questions in the mind need to be dealt with by the subject, the agent of a torrent of thoughts, the identity stream, when you realize how Descartes got it all wrong, that without a body, he couldn't even think, without his singular mind, only occurring because his brain functions, otherwise thought exists independent of mind, brain, body, spirit, soul, the breath takes flight, words shape the world as we see, hear, taste touch, smell, perceive the world through sensations, perhaps Descartes was right in that sense, since the machine does it all without minds, Descartes, an illusion of his own perceptions, of his machinations, Descartes is the machine, or, at least, just a name, another name in place of the acronym for the machine called Spirit.
Although people prefer the names of God, Allah, the Buddha, to this one, I, Casimiro, call the machine called Spirit, I will never argue points of faith, of belief, with religious people, as they make war and hate to perpetuate myths unfounded other than as fictions of the mind. This is the history of mankind to battle over their language games, over speech acts of hate, to kill based on ideas that create division and a divisiveness that creates our borders, boundaries and nations, a sense of hate, like race, a fictional concept, but not without value, to make money and greed, to hate others because of our differences, whereas, we are the same, one mind of the machine, our similarities override difference, but we cannot embrace peace, for peace makes no money, peace has no war machine, no economy stirs because people want peace, no, they want war, that's all.
The trade in delusions from alcohol and drugs perks the economy unlike the war machine, keep people satisfied, make them believe in war, in the machine called war, called veterans, called hate, the pretty hate machine of greed and delusion, where do no harm makes sense to no one who consumes the drug called government, called control the people, collateral damage means zilch in times of war, but friendly fire means death or harm of our own troops by our own troops, reckless, the war machine cares not, cares only for winners, for the stronger nation, their ideology to reign supreme over the rest of the whole world, one nation to police those in subservience, welcome to the machine, welcome to hate and war, welcome to the drug lord, the president of dope, hate, greed and delusion, collateral damage, and friendly fire in war, salute the president, war is a language game, a speech act of hatred, pure animosity, deliver us from her, the drug lord president.
She will deliver us all to the war machine, Jezebel and the Beast, of course, the numbers game is her racket, you see, in this world, some argue, others complain, but few know how to solve problems, people full of hot air rub their sleeves, their egos where others wear their hearts, they know nothing to help, they know how to defend their inflated egos, most people on the street, people you'll never meet, no matter, they'll stab you in the back for a lark, to defend an idea, to argue from hot air, from inflated egos, their work is divisive, part of the war machine, but a smaller version, for indoctrination grips their minds by the balls, small problems for small minds, their problems are their own, they want nothing to help create the solutions where we all get along because attitudes change, problems remain the same, if attitudes don't change, problems remain problems, without a solution, no government will help, no government can help, useless systems of graft we call politicians, part of the war machine, the divisive hate crimes, perhaps legislation offers a sense of hope, but worthless deterrents won't keep the crime lord still, she wants the media attention and gets it, since it's easy to do, to harm instead of help, our attitudes must change, otherwise not to stop before pedestrians at a crosswalk, to kill from a lack of patience, this is the world I see everyday on the streets, the levels of neglect, stupidity to think since no one watches us, since we don't watch ourselves, once caught egos inflate to defend dignity, worthless dumb savages.
You might find this soapbox, an incoherent rant, or preaching to the choir, yes, how you are correct, I will not argue sides, as consideration declines in our country, arguments show a lack of love, of peace, of care, to argue is to fight, not to discuss in peace, not to listen and hear the other side clearly as your own position, no, to argue is war, to wage violent war without thought for others, without thought for the same, for the same and others are mirror images, but the war machine grinds notions of the other as alike or the same but in their own culture, as relativism, as ambiguity in our moral values, invalid arguments, unsound, illogical, better to raze their land than to give them a chance to kill us just the same, such are our intentions, our actions, our karma, consequences ensue, they follow us like ghosts, as hungry ghosts rise from the dead to question without bodies to ask.
You watch films of zombies but cannot understand how our minds question us when we do our duty but fail humanity, it is not difficult, it may not seem easy, it may take work to see, inherently lazy, humans defer to time, unless there is money to earn, easy money, no one cares to listen, they point fingers of hate, belittle and call names, arrogance wins the day, bullies succeed at last, they call me a cynic, but I am not a dog, not like Diogenes, they say I do not preach peace but of destruction, in the mirror, they find someone to argue with, someone who won't talk back, they don't have to listen to the mirror image, the only problem is they cannot hear themselves, their own minds, their speech acts, their hateful rhetoric. Who can help our nation when we can't help ourselves? Helpless as sheep before slaughter, to flip the room, that is all it will take, our attitudes must change, otherwise hate remains, the war machine wins all, and we lose contact with the machine called Spirit, for differences exist, specious arguments are futile before death, either machine will come, however we must choose a side as partisans or collaborators, for spirit accepts all, understands all events within the six degrees on the face of a clock. Now is the time to take a side, a position, a stance not just to sit indifferent on the fence, someone must bear the sword of honesty and love, as I, Casimiro, must allow another to live in purity and true sincerity, to transmit the wisdom of the sword of virtue, who's ready to succeed?
No comments:
Post a Comment