Zeitgeist

Ignorance Is Bliss
And She is so Blissful
Wandering without an eye
cannot percieve the sky

Cannot see the flames on the horizon
Cannot smell the poison gas chamber.
The oxygen slowly sucked out sleeping
She’ll never know what hit her.

Ignorance is bliss
And she is so Blissfull
Wandering cynic
Meaningless Bullshit.

Ignore the evidence
Ignore the evidence
Lock down, pleasure seeking
Yet to see the filfth she’s eating.

Ahhh, I love Mithras’ time don’t you? so many presents, and wine, and booze, and eating, and chucking your money into a big pot for people to pocket so you can spend even more time working trying to repay your debt. You either owe a debt to your bank or a debt to society. Maybe both. Still, I’m not complaining, I love pigs in blankets. MMM non-Kosher food. I sit around, and love the fact that when I get back to my parents house, the first time this year no less, I actually sit back, breathe in and feel free. No stress, No shit, No Girlfriend, No drugs, No Responsibility, No Job, No friends, No-thing good on tell-lies-vision and empty-tv (MTV), No Cat, No irritating housemates, Nothing of the sort. It just all feels so, haven like. The food is cooked, the village is quiet, The showers are freaking AWESOME, I can read my books and above all write without

A) Having to lock myself in my room to avoid TV and projections

B) Having to stuff pillows up against a wall so I can reach my computer (having it at the end of your bed without a chair is serious strain on the back man)

C) Breathing in all the fungus from my damp and seriously messy floor. I mean those cleaner ladies off tv, they would have problems man.

So, even while I sit here, bitching about all my problems at the most festive and materialistically driven time of year (but I sure aint complainin about the new shoes!) I’m reassured in that I know it still IS a magical time of the year. I can put my worries away, if only for a short while, and remember that I’m in the moment, and can remain there for what bliss is possible during my short stay, with my family whom I love very much.

and an Italics button that won’t turn off, sorry guys.

So, heres to some meditation time, reflection, joy, good cheer, and most importantly peace that Christ-Mithras’-time will bring.

And to lots and lots of mince pies.

Have a great Christmas all!

Why do you always think of the poems and philosophies that swarm through your mind when your at work?
Whenever I come to write something here its like my brain just turns into empty space, but when I’m actually doing something, well, can’t get it to shut up lol.

But anyways. I feel like I’ve accomplished one of life’s many things to do before you do. I have seen what Optimus Prime looked like before he came to Earth. (and no, its not from the stupid look in the new film). And thats enough for me.

Until next time, and when I have something more important to say.

Be well.

I have decided.

Mushrooms are amazing. Everyone should try them. Now.

Ever still with this wistless whisper of sleep that batteries my skull and cools a chill on the once hard fires of blazing truth. Winter sets in as I lose my kin and every action is remote. Control on the remote, who controls who? The thoughts in my head or the instinct instead or the feeling I’m an operater playing a computer game playing God just to choose an adventure ahead. Gone is the desire to share love but how can one desire when desire no longer rages in you, not to sleep, to eat, to be, to see, to love, to care, my thoughts to share, no sex save the mechanism I don’t feel like I’m getting deeper I’m skipping up to a surface to hold my breath only to find theres no air. Just this stagnant lack of any kind of emotion save the occasional theological rage or the tide of jealousy that corrupts the mind and its so hard to find a way out of this mess, this unprovoked test on my conscience. The survival instinct, level one root red. Silly to think its just in my head. The foundation the cause, holds with pregnant pause as the Reptilian inside the struggler the Hyde sees its predators clothed in human skin, no enemy in dust or trance-thought outtrace but the pheremone seeking guided missile of hormale looking to impregnant my female and leave me cuckolded in this strange attractor. Not even my female I cannot bear to say I own, but you feel like you want to protect whats closest to home, and you wish that everyone could see the world like you, and not be slave to sensations anew.

Thought for the day.

How strange it is, the absence of words. For the past few months, as you may know, I have been engaged in a war against my own thoughts. Dark and obstructing they may be, I recently found a place in meditation that brooks no conflict within myself, and it is there, away from the distractions of life that I find my peace. When there is no desire to be good, there is no counter desire to be bad. You cannot wholely be one or the other. Despite the poisonous frequency that my thoughts may trend in different dimensional spaces, my actions towards others speak otherwise, and I hope they speak louder than thought. Inwardly, I scream and rage.
Our desire to give up our freedom is more pronounced than I first thought. My reflection in the face of reality shows no desire to grow, only to give up.

More and more, the original use of drugs for paradigm shifting gives way to the regression of pure hedonism.
More and more, we believe that shiny little box in the corner of our rooms as it tells us how to live.
More and more, we are supplied shit to make us dream that our reality is fine, that we can ignore whats going on in the world because it doesn’t concern us, it concerns our politicians. They make our choices now. They tell us who to fight, who’s wrong or right. We don’t care. We’re more interested in Pete Doherty’s drug habits, or Britney’s impromptu breakdown. We’re Vicarious. Living our eyes through special filters designed to numb us into cowsheds.

No, I don’t need to think, friends is on. I don’t want to watch a film that makes me think, I just want to get stoned and
sit there like a lemon, I’ve had a difficult day at work you know. Thinking is for all those people who make rules, yaknow?

More and more, our government shuts down the corners of freedom that we think we won’t miss. One domino reaction against another. It’s already started, so why bother fighting it.

Health and safety is just another branch of the gestapo in my eyes.

So whilst I am being brought to shatter, watching us slowly stick our heads in the ground as those in top brass pour sand over our backs and down our throats,  because thats how you govern, I wonder if I’ll ever see that perfection of being that I know we are so nearly finding our way back on the path to, if we can just bear to bring our eyes to the surface once in a while and deal with whats going the fuck on.

Open your eyes. All three of them!

Dear people. I neglect you. Mostly because right now my anger is vented at you, which is really just me using you as an excuse for my own behaviour, my mirror, if you will, but nevertheless I am angry at you.

Firstly, to all the promiscuous. What the fuck are you doing? Trying to fill a hole? Don’t you know your making it bigger!
Don’t you know what sex is? Of course all you think about is fluids and pleasure and fucking and sensation because well, why not. WHats the worry, whats the catch. I can fuck as much as I want. Never mind the fact that I’m giving away all of my energy to someone who doesn’t even know what to do with it. Doesn’t have a fucking clue, and she’s bringing me down with it, for her pleasure.

Of course that was her job all along. I know her soul, and I can see through facades. It is a shame she cannot see herself.

 Secondly, that was it. I’m too angry at the moment to write a coherent or intelligent or something worth your time of reading, but I’m very angry at the fact that you don’t even care that oblivion is around the corner. Very angry.

See you in happier times

Dear all, it again has been far too long. My punctuation isn’t exactly great but it has been a very busy time. I seem to be working 7 days a week, non stop. I can’t remember the last time I had a day off, and not to mention the pressures of a demanding social life, I feel physically, spiritually, emotionally and mentally drained.

Still, it seems my dark side needs exploring, but since giving up weed my head is a lot clearer, but now I’m getting lots of emotional content coming through. I wonder, through a year of repression technique just what I’m letting myself in for.

It seems the vibe is hanging over my head. How can I distrust and accuse my girlfriend, but how can I remain normal when her language is sexualised around him, and then you find out she’s going out on the town to ‘reintroduce’ his penis to the female world. One would think it was almost worship. I wonder if I should just let it slide, but its eating my up. Haunting. It’s no wonder people go crazy, you’ve got all this shit going on but your never allowed to express it, because if you do its just paranoid.

 Anyway, the challenge is to let go, and hope and wish for the best, and hope and wish the best. Will write again when in a more writey mood.

Peace

 

One by one
The days crumble into each other
A fruit cocktail melody of strained flavours and dovouring sobriety
Am I falling asleep again?
Two by two, the sins begin their mount once more
I almost cant be bothered anymore.

Chasing this snake, this dragon
The tail shaking, fire breathing up my back
She is slumbering
I want to shake the gates again.

Did I turn off my path?
Past still haunts the present, and draws crimson fingers into the future
Pulling something into nothing.
Define Futility.

Tick tock the hands carress the clock
Sliding their wares over the face of time
Proclaiming stasis when they know there is no such thing.
Tumbling down the hillside
They cant tell left from right
But the hands are moving faster than they imagined
Painless to stop it
This moment becomes a blur
Dulled blades cutting air
Sweeping through nothing
This samurai sheds a tear.

 

Work work work. Work to live. Live to work. work to die. Work to feed. Feed to work. work to amass a wheelbarrow set in a hole of depression.

RIpping me apart.

ITs been a while.

Everyone should try tantric sex. immediatly.

Curtains are lifting
This corridoor opens
A royal opera house
The centre stage is lit
And the suits are set
The play is building to a crescendo
And the actors are willing.

The choir lifts up their voices to the heavens

Hallelujah

And the audience are rapt with attention