Azure eyes of mirrored lake,
Pierce the tempered steel of my heart,
Casting their gaze upon the once stark black labyrinth.
Like a wildfire! Fierce, raging storm of flames!
Devouring the parched land of my swelling emotions,
My soul is set ablaze.
With a savage longing I reach
For the tousled curls of your voluptuous hair.
With such ardor do I hope to look upon you.
Your Azure eyes of mirrored lake,
Once more into which I hope to gaze.
With vehemence do I dream,
In a color of such resplendent, pulchritude!
I dream in the light, purplish shade of blue.
Azure eyes of mirrored lake,
Pierce the tempered steel of my heart,
And to the wind I throw caution and reservation and doubt.
Swept away, they no longer hold me back.
I am assured by the roaring flames in my heart,
The fervor of my proclivity for you,
Most certainly is reflected in your Azure eyes.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
Imaginative Rant #2
It rained enough to quench the thirst of the land today. I was rather content watching it come down in sheets, waves, ounces, inches, blankets. It drew me into myself so much so that I hurtled out into it, running with not a care. Pelting my face and skin, drenching my clothes, soaking my feet, covering my body.
Now long after my run, I sit in a dark room at the top of a dark tower and the sky echoes the lack of light in this room. The grey that covers it hides the moon from my view. But I'm not complaining. Tonight I'd rather see the blanket of grey, black, and what some might call 'dreary'. For you see, fuck those people.
With the rain falling like the nourishment that it is, I realize that immortality must be found there! In the water! The falling rain holds the key to what every man longs for. God has given it to us already, but we were too blind to see. I stand up instantly upon this realization. I have found something out and rather than write about it or shout it at the top of my lungs, all I can think of is seizing this opportunity! Without hesitation I throw myself out of the only window that the room possesses. The sensation of falling overtakes me, threatening to envelope my innards as they fold in on themselves; gravity sucking and pulling on my body without mercy. There is no regret though for I know what comes next...
... some of you think you do as well, but you are not in my mind and gravity is a filthy pigfucker. Here in my mind, even it takes a back seat.
I melt.
I blend.
I become.
I transform.
I mesh.
I flow.
I fall.
I crash.
I mend.
I splatter.
I am one.
I am all.
I am myself.
No sooner than gravity had sought to reel me in, had I become the rain. I fell, hard and fast, crashing into the muddy puddles below. But I was not defeated. I was not destroyed. I was alive.
I assimilated with the puddle, became the water. A liquid entity with no mobility, no way to make communication, no movement was possible. But I was no longer me. I was everyone and everything that had come before and after. The water of us all, the water of everything, we are one. You see, here is the key to immortality as one never would have even guessed. In the rain can we find what we all long for in some manner. The greatest society is the rain! A mobile, thriving, living, nourishing, city of trillions of souls. No! Not trillions!
An unfathomable number that spans the reach of time and space and I was in it! At the very heart of it, as was every soul before me. And with time, we evaporated. The puddle dried up and we again resided in the clouds, in the sky. A working community bent on becoming one yet again. Divided in the sky I felt alone and yet there was a deep longing and I suddenly knew what would come next as my own cloud grew heavy and grey with the amassing of souls...
In an inevitable downpour I saw it!
THERE IT IS! THIS IS IT! THIS IS US!, I wanted to cry but no longer possessing a way to vocalize my very real thoughts I felt lost. But I realized that at this point words meant nothing and there were no words fit to describe the scene. Rain doesn't use words because it has no need of them.
We each fell together, but separate. Beside me, above me, below me, other drops... other souls. All around me were the people of the past, long forgotten, or long remembered, or never known. And when we crashed to the ground once again we became one and I understood everything.
A thunderstorm signals that which we as humans seek, whether we are conscious of this quest or not.
In the rain we can find solace, knowing that it is indeed the key to immortality. I had found it and the pure bliss upon that final realization was something that I can never hope to put into words.
Now long after my run, I sit in a dark room at the top of a dark tower and the sky echoes the lack of light in this room. The grey that covers it hides the moon from my view. But I'm not complaining. Tonight I'd rather see the blanket of grey, black, and what some might call 'dreary'. For you see, fuck those people.
With the rain falling like the nourishment that it is, I realize that immortality must be found there! In the water! The falling rain holds the key to what every man longs for. God has given it to us already, but we were too blind to see. I stand up instantly upon this realization. I have found something out and rather than write about it or shout it at the top of my lungs, all I can think of is seizing this opportunity! Without hesitation I throw myself out of the only window that the room possesses. The sensation of falling overtakes me, threatening to envelope my innards as they fold in on themselves; gravity sucking and pulling on my body without mercy. There is no regret though for I know what comes next...
... some of you think you do as well, but you are not in my mind and gravity is a filthy pigfucker. Here in my mind, even it takes a back seat.
I melt.
I blend.
I become.
I transform.
I mesh.
I flow.
I fall.
I crash.
I mend.
I splatter.
I am one.
I am all.
I am myself.
No sooner than gravity had sought to reel me in, had I become the rain. I fell, hard and fast, crashing into the muddy puddles below. But I was not defeated. I was not destroyed. I was alive.
I assimilated with the puddle, became the water. A liquid entity with no mobility, no way to make communication, no movement was possible. But I was no longer me. I was everyone and everything that had come before and after. The water of us all, the water of everything, we are one. You see, here is the key to immortality as one never would have even guessed. In the rain can we find what we all long for in some manner. The greatest society is the rain! A mobile, thriving, living, nourishing, city of trillions of souls. No! Not trillions!
An unfathomable number that spans the reach of time and space and I was in it! At the very heart of it, as was every soul before me. And with time, we evaporated. The puddle dried up and we again resided in the clouds, in the sky. A working community bent on becoming one yet again. Divided in the sky I felt alone and yet there was a deep longing and I suddenly knew what would come next as my own cloud grew heavy and grey with the amassing of souls...
In an inevitable downpour I saw it!
THERE IT IS! THIS IS IT! THIS IS US!, I wanted to cry but no longer possessing a way to vocalize my very real thoughts I felt lost. But I realized that at this point words meant nothing and there were no words fit to describe the scene. Rain doesn't use words because it has no need of them.
We each fell together, but separate. Beside me, above me, below me, other drops... other souls. All around me were the people of the past, long forgotten, or long remembered, or never known. And when we crashed to the ground once again we became one and I understood everything.
A thunderstorm signals that which we as humans seek, whether we are conscious of this quest or not.
In the rain we can find solace, knowing that it is indeed the key to immortality. I had found it and the pure bliss upon that final realization was something that I can never hope to put into words.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Imaginative Rant #1
I ascended a mountain, with all the ferociousness of some tiger-bear hybrid. Let's be clear though, on the fact that such a description doesn't give my endeavor enough justice. This mountain was nigh unclimbable, for fuck's sake! Literally, my mind constructed this majestic beauty with all the whacked out geometry that one might attribute to a bombed out building. Only, this was a fucking mountain!
Chiseled, worn, aged, beaten by mother nature for eons!
But in my mind I'm a man among men, a dashing brute with an intellect to boot, and turning back would have cost me more booze than I cared to throw away.
So I mustered up whatever imaginary sense of courage and willpower I had, and with the speed of a coked-up sloth I tediously grabbed each outcropping of rock, hoisting myself onto ledges, into footholds, leaping bounds across some magical fissure that certainly would have held the secrets of immortality, sex, women, unicorns, and bats. But I had not the time to include spelunking in this Imagination Ejaculation! Though I hesitate to place the restrictions of time and space upon my glorious imagination, I must have climbed for near 24 hours, turned to 24 days, turned to 2 years. For by the time my manhood reached the top I had the deadliest eyes, the fiercest of chests, and the most amazing beard a man could ask for. What a feat! What an accomplishment!
Outstanding. . .
Terrific. . .
Incredible. . .
Lord, did I smell the most amazing things on the top of that peak! The rancid odor of my unwashed, sweaty mass was thrown to the wind and in rolled the divine smell of thunderstorms, snowstorms, snow lightning, ice-storms, and rain. I imagine this to be what God himself smells like whilst running a fucking marathon. That's right ladies, God is a runner and a damn good one at that! Because why not? This is my imagination, I'll make the rules and your opinions can take a backseat, you limey bastards!
So there I was, having ascended the tallest peak on whatever neo-planet the human race moves to once we finish fucking this one up. And I marveled at the wondrous site below me. I won't describe it for fear of causing your eyes to melt instantaneously, but I will say that its certainly easier to view if you take out your contact lenses. But wait. . . was I imagining things?. . . Of course I was! And high in the sky came hurtling the largest, most amazing, sinister, space rock any man dare lay his eyes upon. . .
Christ on cocaine, it was coming my way! Oh what a terrible way to have met my end! After doing the unthinkable, the impossible, it would be an ASTEROID that claimed my life. With such a feat as I had just accomplished, I alone deserved the right to chose how I would meet that rat-faced fucker known as DEATH. I was going to jump! I swear it I was prepared to jump, masturbating furiously as I plummeted to the jagged rocks below. But now I was frozen in my tracks. I could not move an inch, a muscle, not even a twitch. For this celestial rock had struck a fear in me more awesome than the wildest beast could ever claim to do. Thus I had already imagined my death by a horrible, fiery crushing. Or rather. . . the rock had planted the thought in my head!
For fuck's sake, this was a sentient rock, with psychic-inception powers to boot!
What a slimy bugger it was.
My own imagination would not build a construct with which I might save myself, and thus my imagination was no longer under my control. It was the property of this fucking rock now and I was at its mercy, but it was devoid of all such sentiments! So I had already accepted the manner in which I would die, when suddenly and in a manner akin to that of a defense mechanism, I felt the presence of my soul yet again and the imagination was all at once my own. In an instance I began to grow exponentially, until I had dwarfed the very mountain on which I had previously been standing. Like a moth to the flame the space-rock-monster rushed me and like the flame I struck! But what I really mean is I opened my mouth and swallowed that son of a bitch.
That's right! I swallowed a space rock.
It occurred to me that I had no idea what constituted that rock. What was it composed of?!
For fuck's sake I could have just swallowed a glorified instant cancer pill from space!
Lesions could grow on my face and burst with a mixture of puss and grime that would then burn the rest of my flesh like acid!
It could have been covered in fucking space leeches! The worst kind of hellish nightmare because the bastards are inside me! But they don't stop there, because now they are in my INNARDS! Goddamnit man, did you hear what I said? INSIDE MY INSIDES!
Well fortunately for me my imagination didn't conjure any of these things up except for in the thoughts of my thoughts. So for all intents and purposes I just ate a boring space rock, the most damage it might have done was give me heartburn, because it was flaming mad when it entered the planet's atmosphere.
So now having bested both an impassable mountain and the thing which sought to claim my life, I shrunk back to my normal size. Triumphant and screaming in victory, I had not at first noticed where I was, but it soon became all too clear and that was the moment that I had wished I had brought some pot with me on the perilous journey because it might have made me forget the horror of what was to happen next. . .
I was no longer on the peak. Instead I stood at the base of the mountain, no longer at the top of that impossible-geometric-aged-rock. And then it dawned on me, crashing down upon my chest the way I imagine it feels to let an alligator crush you with the swiftness of scissors and the power of a cider press. . . That limey bastard! That devious rat-fucker!
The space rock had only wanted me to think it would kill me and thus cause me to attempt to save myself by enlarging my carcass! Its goal had only been but to get me off the mountain, to take away my victory! With a vengeance it had come hurtling toward me with no intention of killing me! For that would have been too easy, too good for the likes of me! Humiliation was much better!
. . . and wouldn't you know it, I didn't get the chance to snap a picture as proof after I ascended the peak. . .
My beard burnt away, my chest deflated, and my pride wounded I said a hearty 'Fuck You!' to the pigfucker that was resting in my bowels and went on my unpleasant way.
Chiseled, worn, aged, beaten by mother nature for eons!
But in my mind I'm a man among men, a dashing brute with an intellect to boot, and turning back would have cost me more booze than I cared to throw away.
So I mustered up whatever imaginary sense of courage and willpower I had, and with the speed of a coked-up sloth I tediously grabbed each outcropping of rock, hoisting myself onto ledges, into footholds, leaping bounds across some magical fissure that certainly would have held the secrets of immortality, sex, women, unicorns, and bats. But I had not the time to include spelunking in this Imagination Ejaculation! Though I hesitate to place the restrictions of time and space upon my glorious imagination, I must have climbed for near 24 hours, turned to 24 days, turned to 2 years. For by the time my manhood reached the top I had the deadliest eyes, the fiercest of chests, and the most amazing beard a man could ask for. What a feat! What an accomplishment!
Outstanding. . .
Terrific. . .
Incredible. . .
Lord, did I smell the most amazing things on the top of that peak! The rancid odor of my unwashed, sweaty mass was thrown to the wind and in rolled the divine smell of thunderstorms, snowstorms, snow lightning, ice-storms, and rain. I imagine this to be what God himself smells like whilst running a fucking marathon. That's right ladies, God is a runner and a damn good one at that! Because why not? This is my imagination, I'll make the rules and your opinions can take a backseat, you limey bastards!
So there I was, having ascended the tallest peak on whatever neo-planet the human race moves to once we finish fucking this one up. And I marveled at the wondrous site below me. I won't describe it for fear of causing your eyes to melt instantaneously, but I will say that its certainly easier to view if you take out your contact lenses. But wait. . . was I imagining things?. . . Of course I was! And high in the sky came hurtling the largest, most amazing, sinister, space rock any man dare lay his eyes upon. . .
Christ on cocaine, it was coming my way! Oh what a terrible way to have met my end! After doing the unthinkable, the impossible, it would be an ASTEROID that claimed my life. With such a feat as I had just accomplished, I alone deserved the right to chose how I would meet that rat-faced fucker known as DEATH. I was going to jump! I swear it I was prepared to jump, masturbating furiously as I plummeted to the jagged rocks below. But now I was frozen in my tracks. I could not move an inch, a muscle, not even a twitch. For this celestial rock had struck a fear in me more awesome than the wildest beast could ever claim to do. Thus I had already imagined my death by a horrible, fiery crushing. Or rather. . . the rock had planted the thought in my head!
For fuck's sake, this was a sentient rock, with psychic-inception powers to boot!
What a slimy bugger it was.
My own imagination would not build a construct with which I might save myself, and thus my imagination was no longer under my control. It was the property of this fucking rock now and I was at its mercy, but it was devoid of all such sentiments! So I had already accepted the manner in which I would die, when suddenly and in a manner akin to that of a defense mechanism, I felt the presence of my soul yet again and the imagination was all at once my own. In an instance I began to grow exponentially, until I had dwarfed the very mountain on which I had previously been standing. Like a moth to the flame the space-rock-monster rushed me and like the flame I struck! But what I really mean is I opened my mouth and swallowed that son of a bitch.
That's right! I swallowed a space rock.
It occurred to me that I had no idea what constituted that rock. What was it composed of?!
For fuck's sake I could have just swallowed a glorified instant cancer pill from space!
Lesions could grow on my face and burst with a mixture of puss and grime that would then burn the rest of my flesh like acid!
It could have been covered in fucking space leeches! The worst kind of hellish nightmare because the bastards are inside me! But they don't stop there, because now they are in my INNARDS! Goddamnit man, did you hear what I said? INSIDE MY INSIDES!
Well fortunately for me my imagination didn't conjure any of these things up except for in the thoughts of my thoughts. So for all intents and purposes I just ate a boring space rock, the most damage it might have done was give me heartburn, because it was flaming mad when it entered the planet's atmosphere.
So now having bested both an impassable mountain and the thing which sought to claim my life, I shrunk back to my normal size. Triumphant and screaming in victory, I had not at first noticed where I was, but it soon became all too clear and that was the moment that I had wished I had brought some pot with me on the perilous journey because it might have made me forget the horror of what was to happen next. . .
I was no longer on the peak. Instead I stood at the base of the mountain, no longer at the top of that impossible-geometric-aged-rock. And then it dawned on me, crashing down upon my chest the way I imagine it feels to let an alligator crush you with the swiftness of scissors and the power of a cider press. . . That limey bastard! That devious rat-fucker!
The space rock had only wanted me to think it would kill me and thus cause me to attempt to save myself by enlarging my carcass! Its goal had only been but to get me off the mountain, to take away my victory! With a vengeance it had come hurtling toward me with no intention of killing me! For that would have been too easy, too good for the likes of me! Humiliation was much better!
. . . and wouldn't you know it, I didn't get the chance to snap a picture as proof after I ascended the peak. . .
My beard burnt away, my chest deflated, and my pride wounded I said a hearty 'Fuck You!' to the pigfucker that was resting in my bowels and went on my unpleasant way.
Seven Car Pile-Up
I'll preface this by saying that the entire situation was one big, glorified accident.
What was overly dramatized was nothing more than a bunch of morons, old people, and that one blind guy trying to drive down the same part of the street at once. Twenty-shit-blazing-miles over the posted limit and you sure wonder where the pigs were that day. "For fuck's sake man, your gluttonous person can learn patience! Save the world, write a speeding ticket!". . .
Alright so I took some liberties with that one, but let's not start counting mistakes here because not one single fucker counted the numerous mistakes these Glorified Accidenters committed. They all got off scot-free. Dead, but scot-free. It might as well be the same thing given all the rumor and hype that has been circulating about each of these leech-bastards. I can't even conceive of writing one goddamn good piece until I witness the cluster fuck that is the scrap metal, blood, bone, glass, chalky airbag ejaculate, and shit. And wouldn't you know it, every other pigfucking journalist beats me to it!
For fuck's sake! I've entered a dark place in the middle of the night and to hell with me coming out alive. I've all but lost hope on such a thing. I'll concede that those other vampires snatched up the story before my itchy hands could but lay a finger upon this over-complicated typewriter, but they sure fucking didn't see what I saw. I read their articles this very morning. Every damn one had much to say about each man, woman, child, and rapist involved in the pile up of the century. Each article was nothing more than a sob story, divided equally between the seven players, so as to make sure the spider-web of a story was followed in the correct order, and at the end of it you wanted to shed naught more than crocodile tears for the poor fools whose carcasses were heaped up in that mess. . . Or maybe I'm just too doped up on coke to really give a righteous fuck about the sob stories and boo-hoos. Goddamnit man! Where's the anger? The passion? Where in the wide-fucking-world is the motive? This was an act of murder on the part of multiple parties and not a one of them had premeditated any such thoughts of it!
What a fucking ironic catastrophe!
What a cluster-fuck-medley of untimely deaths!
What a grotesquely, brutal and all around dashingly beautiful event!
And those dirty pigfuckers, too concerned with politics, sports, finances, or whatever else the world reads about while in a mindless stupor; oh those sons-of-bitches! They do this whole story, this whole beautiful story of pure chaos a great injustice. Well goddamnit those monsters don't deserve the credentials of a journalist! Where is the truth in those sob stories? WHERE IS THE PASSION!
No need to say more, no sir. A journalist's sole responsibility is to throw himself in the midst of the event and tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help him because if he doesn't the big-dirties on the receiving end will tear your heart out and eat it on the worst kind of stick imaginable. . .
What was overly dramatized was nothing more than a bunch of morons, old people, and that one blind guy trying to drive down the same part of the street at once. Twenty-shit-blazing-miles over the posted limit and you sure wonder where the pigs were that day. "For fuck's sake man, your gluttonous person can learn patience! Save the world, write a speeding ticket!". . .
Alright so I took some liberties with that one, but let's not start counting mistakes here because not one single fucker counted the numerous mistakes these Glorified Accidenters committed. They all got off scot-free. Dead, but scot-free. It might as well be the same thing given all the rumor and hype that has been circulating about each of these leech-bastards. I can't even conceive of writing one goddamn good piece until I witness the cluster fuck that is the scrap metal, blood, bone, glass, chalky airbag ejaculate, and shit. And wouldn't you know it, every other pigfucking journalist beats me to it!
For fuck's sake! I've entered a dark place in the middle of the night and to hell with me coming out alive. I've all but lost hope on such a thing. I'll concede that those other vampires snatched up the story before my itchy hands could but lay a finger upon this over-complicated typewriter, but they sure fucking didn't see what I saw. I read their articles this very morning. Every damn one had much to say about each man, woman, child, and rapist involved in the pile up of the century. Each article was nothing more than a sob story, divided equally between the seven players, so as to make sure the spider-web of a story was followed in the correct order, and at the end of it you wanted to shed naught more than crocodile tears for the poor fools whose carcasses were heaped up in that mess. . . Or maybe I'm just too doped up on coke to really give a righteous fuck about the sob stories and boo-hoos. Goddamnit man! Where's the anger? The passion? Where in the wide-fucking-world is the motive? This was an act of murder on the part of multiple parties and not a one of them had premeditated any such thoughts of it!
What a fucking ironic catastrophe!
What a cluster-fuck-medley of untimely deaths!
What a grotesquely, brutal and all around dashingly beautiful event!
And those dirty pigfuckers, too concerned with politics, sports, finances, or whatever else the world reads about while in a mindless stupor; oh those sons-of-bitches! They do this whole story, this whole beautiful story of pure chaos a great injustice. Well goddamnit those monsters don't deserve the credentials of a journalist! Where is the truth in those sob stories? WHERE IS THE PASSION!
No need to say more, no sir. A journalist's sole responsibility is to throw himself in the midst of the event and tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help him because if he doesn't the big-dirties on the receiving end will tear your heart out and eat it on the worst kind of stick imaginable. . .
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