Monday, February 21, 2011

The Appendage of Decadence – An Introduction To His Great Flame Out

He was once considered a great man of sorts. Someone you could actually look up to possibly on a day of sobriety. “On a jiggle jaggle morning” he’ll come following you just to prove that he was a man of his word or words to that effect. On one side there was a profound and significant sense of self indulgence but on the other side of the spectrum, the one that few were able, if lucky to observe or key into, there was a helpless romantic, a brutally honest man that was willing to give without any thought of reward. An angel endowed with a halo of tragedy of sorts. The one ring to rule them all, the one ring to find them. The one ring to bring them all and in the darkness binds them, or something to that effect.

He was always faced with these conflicts in life but his favourite, his absolute life’s work, had always been the battle between the sexes in his pseudo adopted country. He loved women. He had all their albums. And so continuous is his purgatory derivative of his attraction to the female species. A continuous loop of a fool’s errand if it must be said. Women, from the beginning and until this very day, are the most amazing creatures to him. However, it might have been the rest of the world that he had a problem corresponding with. He would always seem to others to be submersed in a wayward sense of self-disgust, a complete sense of self-loathing if you will, but he was truly, beyond any doubt, never unhappy. His life was to be his never ending entertainment and amusement as it were. Gods continuing lassitude perhaps or the devil “because you know there is no devil, that’s just God when he is drunk,” as a songwriter once wrote.

Consequently, black was his favourite colour but he would always tell, when faced with the public, that it was blue because at the very least, in an existential wisdomic way, blue had much more of a level of sadness and depth to it. Would you, “the reader,” agree?

To be continued with – “he doesn’t know what to say to nice girls anymore……”

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Puscifer - The Humbling River (Duet Mix)

Nature, nurture, heaven and home
Sum of all and by them driven
To conquer every mountain shown
But have never crossed the river
Braved the forest braved the stone
Braved the icy winds and fire
Braved and beat them on my own
Yet I'm helpless by the river

Angel, angel what have I done?
I've faced the quakes the wind, the fire
I've conquered country, crown, and throne
Why can't I cross this river?

Pay no mind to the battles you've won
It'll take a lot more than rage and muscle
Open your heart and hands my son
Or you'll never make it over the river
It'll take a lot more that words and guns
A whole lot more than riches and muscle
The hands of the many must join as one
And together we'll cross the river

Thursday, February 3, 2011

crucified, viable, despondent, vulnerable, purgatory, verity, balderdash – and everything in between

To my purity versus impurity
To my virtue versus degradation
As I grieve against treason
And I progress against impurities

I stand no chance
I have no weapons
To the onslaught of draught
Within this crossfire
Of identities

To the open wrist that speak back to me
To the flow that ends all abilities
To the ashes of reason
And everything in between

With for every township woe
And status quo ante bellum
Of which non-continuance
And non-survival
To which crime is rival
And no one is authentic

This hog has no faith
It chews its own timber
To prove to its master
That fools do not shiver

And how am I different,

from fools that do not deliver?