“Abruptly thrust into utter stagnation” he cried into the darkened corner of the sunlit room. His answer to an unasked question resounded thick off of the stucco walls with a mocking echo, the tone of his own voice laughing soundlessly at his plight.
“Awash with unbridled anonymity” another cry to a specific person who wasn’t there. The swirling stucco formed the face and hat and curling shoes of a court jester with no sense of timing and a terrible delivery.
“Lost within a treasure map” and the ironic twist seemed to strengthen his resolve and lessen his will. The ceiling fan dangled ever more precariously, its hot air cooling no one.
“Interlaced with outer beauty” and he looked at the revolting décor of the former garden, now cemented and walled and windowed and curmudgeoned and blasphemed.
“The Death of a Talisman”, while his ears ached at the imagined sound from the motionless wind-chime.
“Rejoined with one I’ve never known” then sitting on the ceiling tiles that rested on the floor, the sign of repairs unfinished completely.
“Strolling through the carnival” he watched the stray returning home. An alley cat, on the sidewalk, near the road to the highway, watches cars coming, as it continues unabated into traffic.
“Living in the fruit flies dream” as he stares at the grandfather clock, its hands frozen at an hour long passed, and a minute nearly come.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
The Best Worst Movie Ever Gets a Scathing Review...(Sean Connery in a loin cloth and floating heads)
In this review, I rip apart the worst Sean Connery film ever made!
Uneccessary Excuses for Tardiness.
ME: I was absorbed into the darkness of the void, to a timeless place where I have spent the last 5 years although only a few minutes passed for you.
MY Boss: I was just wondering why you were 5 minutes late to work.
Uneccessary Excuses for Tardiness.
ME: I was absorbed into the darkness of the void, to a timeless place where I have spent the last 5 years although only a few minutes passed for you.
MY Boss: I was just wondering why you were 5 minutes late to work.
Tom Petty and His Parachute
After a certain number of "Free fallin's" you'd think Tom Petty would eventually have to pull his chute. Otherwise the song would be like 5 free fallin's and a free fa---.
Pop Fiction
When phosphorescent falsehoods and doppleganger dreams became the foundation of the future of the Earth; it is then that the churning of the tide became a bubble in a soda can.
Mad Mice
The sycophantic soothsayers, the walking-talking-figure heads, the zombies of the evening mass, those strapped in bed, those grateful dead, those whose phosphorescent fallacies and incandescent dreams guide the lost generation to its unwelcome home.
It is they who tempted Eve, with an apple up their sleeve, and also they who told us of her undiscerning appetite.
Before our eyes, they show their lies, the cheating gambler with sleeves rolled up, dealing slowly from the bottom of the deck, and reading each card aloud as he throws them face down. Yet still we wait our turn to join the table. We ante up our lives, and our children and our wives, while we know it is a game we cannot win.
We play our cards with Cheshire grin, although the Hatter’s going to win, while the mice are getting drunk on cheese and wine beneath the table.
There is nothing left to do when the rules make you unable,
and your chair has lost a leg, but your mind is what’s unstable,
and you drink the toxic tea that has a warning on the label,
and you hoped to be a legend but got lost inside a fable,
and we quickly find the best card and we pass it ‘cross the table.
When we reach the mazes end, we will find, to our chagrin, that the cheese we sought was always at the start. Those lost inside the labyrinth, who’ve lost the first and third and tenth, who’ve lost their way and lost their minds, who, born in first, are now behind.
It is there that we mice first failed, to see behind transparent veil, the mad scientist with his neon lab coat, manipulating the environment to our disadvantage, turning levers, pulling knobs, and cutting off our tails.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
I watch the few become the many. Those universally unique few that find little joy in the trivial melodramas of the majority. The majority who cling desperately to their blankets of conformity for protection from the coldness of their loneliness and insecurity. To save them from having to truly find out who they are when the lights go out. The white lights like stars shimmering in the night sky, blinking feverishly in the void lest they risk being forgotten, or unnoticed, or becoming non-existent. Each shimmer, the rhythmic pulsing of a great unknown source of power, whose brilliance might not be known for generations: through the centuries of mediocrity that saturate the void, constantly expanding the darkness. When the capacity of the average mind is finally capable of attaining a full understanding of the magnitude of the light, they will simultaneously discover that it's source has been distinguished. Like the snuffing of a candle, the oppressive expanse of the universe tightens it's strangling grasp, suffocating the individuality from those who dared to shine in opposition.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Cluttered Mind
Thinking is a dangerous pastime for me. I generally try to keep my mind occupied and my body moving so as not to think about the world that I move, eat, and converse within daily. I find the stimulation of an active, youthful, productive existence to be quite useful in diverting myself from the disturbing realities of society today...the world tomorrow...morality today...the youth tomorrow...the future...
Today I sit and think. My aching body allows little else.
I realize that everything that was once, no longer is. What will be, never was. Yet all is the same. When will tomorrow become yesterday? Why can't yesterday become tomorrow? I very much wish that it could.
The hundred things we've lost far outweigh the millions we've gained. One lost promise never forgiven, two lost who never return.
Where purity leaves only filth can remain. Where innocence dies corruption thrives.
The time has come to make a change. That time was generations ago.
It came...
it went...
it didn't happen.
It never will.
Today I sit and think. My aching body allows little else.
I realize that everything that was once, no longer is. What will be, never was. Yet all is the same. When will tomorrow become yesterday? Why can't yesterday become tomorrow? I very much wish that it could.
The hundred things we've lost far outweigh the millions we've gained. One lost promise never forgiven, two lost who never return.
Where purity leaves only filth can remain. Where innocence dies corruption thrives.
The time has come to make a change. That time was generations ago.
It came...
it went...
it didn't happen.
It never will.
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