Relevant Rant

Will we ever see beyond the trees into the forest of illusions set before us by ourselves, or are we simply at a loss to bear this burden? Certainly, such implication complicates the inferences alluding to this state of indignation, which perpetuates the presence of my acute consternation. Do the constellations hold the key unlocking unknown doors to worlds beyond the chaos of existence? Is this counsel self-contained, a crux which cancels itself out, a crutch our conscience uses to ensconce us? Every question seems to touch the realm of truth secluded which eludes even those perspicacious erring on most prudent. Dedicated students of the mind have yet to find an explanation which defines our cosmic purpose. Exponentially, our ponderance compounds without exception, thereby instilling an exigence unduly excess. We have set the boundaries far beyond our wildest expectations to the point of courting disappointment. With our inclination to usurp our self-appointed power, surreptitiously supposing precedents unseen which seem to propagate our dreams so many silently believe. Bereaving us of freedoms rife with possibility which would inspire community instead of spurning hope for peace. Sapience and salience presumed part of our “sentience” are scarcely exercised or altogether compromised, despite the catastrophic impact of our calculated actions we continue on this fervid course of forced dissociation. Refusing to disseminate the knowledge which facilitates a self-sufficiency that would, in turn, sustain society without burning the bridges to the people in positions of imposed disparity based on factors beyond their person. The irony is so profane exceeding that which is insane in fact, it’s that which only fools would dare to claim not criminal. The truth of this reality that humankind just cannot see is every human stands to gain when selfish hands release the reins that led them to where we are now. Instead, with what we’ve stood to learn, so easily could we discern that only through consideration of each other, and each station intrinsic within our being, can we truly attain freedom. Kindness is not just a word, nor is it a notion absurd. It IS what all of us deserve. Without it, there is only hurt.

Friendly Reminder

last time i told myself that it would be the last
but here i am again looking in the past
my memory so freely flees into the breeze
the instant that the moment passes before me
i can’t explain my inability to see
from the perspective granting objectivity
much like a cognitive bias against the self
in which my own best interests have been shot to hell
what makes it worse is everyone else seems to know
so quick to remind me wherever i may go
when all is said and done they say “i told you so”
as though their words are something to have been bestowed
well i suppose they may have something of a point
i’m still compelled to thusly disconnect their joints
the only thing that’s worse than chronic fucking up
is hearing it regaled by someone acting smug
you’d think that this alone would solve things without fail
but i am human; ever prone to get derailed
and for this very reason i am bound to kill
when comes a cocky bastard telling me to chill
which would explain the growing pile in my back yard
composed of corpses of those lacking such regard
take my advice when someone states they’ve had enough
that’s not the time to try and call them on their bluff
nor is it prudent to act disingenuous
nor to allude to any breaching of one’s trust
i’m not just preaching some type of friendly heads up
if you keep reaching, your demise will prove abrupt
of course, you’re free to take this any way you want
just don’t act so surprised when i do as i am wont
in case you missed it that’s the wonton reverie
of your destruction since you chose to fuck with me

Rant On Usurped Offense

There is no merit in insulting others. We have no need for hurtful words, harmful thoughts, and vulgar behavior. Disrespect does not gain the respect of those who would be respectable. For every person that our words and actions victimize unwittingly or otherwise causes our consciences to devolve until we have devised our own demise. We would do best to just confess and take responsibility for our own past including every prior indiscretion. For until we do so, we are incapable of learning the lessons necessary for us to further evolve. It matters not, the company in which we feel free to thusly reveal the horrors that our hearts conceal for there is no possible way of ever knowing the personal experience of those around us which is no less real. Regardless of how well we may think we truly know them. We cannot afford to risk the pain our carelessness inflicts upon the innocent already victimized by flagrant negligence. Lest we are compliant as petulantly defiant accomplices appearing as though tyrants. Abusive words like “slut”, “faggot”, “fat”, and “ugly”, “stupid”, “bitch”, “retarded”, “dumpy”, “sloppy seconds”, “homo”, “freak”, “loser”, “sissy”, “pussy”, “weakling”, referencing things negative by saying that they’re “gay”, and generalizing specific groups from which to draw negative comparison, all of these insidiously vicious sayings cause hurt even if you’re ~just playing~ or ~just kidding~. Such offenses cannot be excused as though unwitting. Be the person standing tall who speaks up for both one and all instead of slandering these victims leaving them to take the fall. When you spew out words like “whore” you open up Pandora’s box for chances are by all accounts that someone amid every crowd has suffered from a horrid fate of which they cannot yet relate. Thier trauma once again is visited upon them distancing them further still as you insist it’s your ~free will~ and that they should perhaps just ~chill~. Well, victims more than deserve freedom, but instead, they’re shirked and beaten. Human beings perpetually defeated by a society so utterly unfathomably heedless. Their self-denounced abusers asserting with such emphasis their so-called ”rights” which they imagine to exist which tragically intend to place their offenses on those who have in fact suffered by their offenses. As though somehow it were a choice to have had lived through tragic fates that innately instill horrific post-traumatic feelings fraught with fear, anxiety, unspoken pains we cannot see, suicidal thoughts now more distraught and all of this for what? So you can validate your selfishness by disregarding poignant pleas from broken-hearted victims who now stand to suffer ceaselessly as they traverse this wretched, thoughtless universe which treats the victims as the curse and celebrates abusive verse? So you can feel so free to recklessly impose your putrid ignorance like pestilence you seem so curiously invested in? As if you’re being bested by the simplest of requests as if it inflicts any stress comparable to the victim’s duress upon the advent of associative anguish by abuse-inflicted reflex? I truly hope that your own ego is not such that you would forgo even basic kindness and concern for those who you might not know for the sake of something so absurd insisting these abusive words should thus be heard by victims already dejected and unnerved presuming that your right to speak should somehow more deserve protection than the human beings, most of whom would never cause a scene instead they keep their pain inside while you would flaunt your shameful pride. My friend, you need to get a clue this issue isn’t about you. I beg thee, please get over yourself and think for once of someone else. Don’t tread upon the mental health of victims trapped in private hell. Dare not assume to know so well the truths of which most never tell precisely for the reasons that you seem to be so much compelled to stand here and defend until the very death with all your will while victims still are made anew but all you can think of is YOU. If only you would understand these victims are your fellow man let me restate that, ALL WOMEN and since you seem unable to consider things in terms I speak perhaps were you able to see these victims are as close to thee indeed of your own family and all your friends who plainly see your indifference to silent pleas from all the pain they’ve suffered through including that since caused by you on more than one occasion too. But with your callous caustic mouth and disregard, you’ve voiced aloud the pain that they must always bear has now become a source of shame which further stifles any hope for their plight ever to be spoken which in turn allows for the abuse they’ve suffered to persist perpetually until they’ve broken.. And for now which you have as much as acted as a type of willful co-conspirator. If you figure this to make them somehow less then let us put it in your terms so you can be the bigger person which you then can prove by showing them that you refuse to treat them like they’re worthless. Society has ever shown that pain and suffering not known to others is routinely thrown aside its victims left alone. If we refuse to stand up tall while watching others take the fall we truly have forsaken all and yet we dare to have such gall to act as though we’ve any merit whilst diminishing the spirit of the hurt whilst acting as though we ourselves are bold and fearless. HEAR THIS! If you’re to know of courage, it won’t come from the disparaging of those who’ve bravely faced such horror life cannot replace and yet you wear upon your face a smirk so smug of such disgrace. Instead of wasting so much time perfecting mindless schoolyard rhymes that aim to somehow thus define your status in the social climb. It’s best if you perhaps would try to rise above the bottom line and speak to others, words with kindness in your heart not by design nor pantomiming words so cruel that leave you looking like the fool who disregards the circumstance of extrinsic experience. Of these pleas do I grow weary for they seem to breed contrary feelings from the heartless egos people cannot seem to let go. Understand that any time you place regard for others behind your own arbitrary wants and then proceed to poke and taunt them it will only ever serve to reveal your own heart perverted when such pain can be averted you choose simply to desert them. The courtesy of politesse is no longer of interest for if you hear these words and balk then i insist, you must fuck off!

I DON’T THINK SO!

 

if we could state with fearless freedom
the truth that every woman knows
the cross that every woman bears
the pain that every woman suffers

it would still not yet suffice

the silence, violence, negligence
disparity, disquietude
the destitute condition
of a desperate society

destined to repeat the past
with exigence until at last
we will have set the final precedent

we will not go gentle into that good night
we will not stand aside
we will abide by what is right
and you will comply

no longer will you have your way
you’ve had your day for all of time

before, we roared, but none would listen
now we shall arise
accept no compromise
condemn the lies
convict the crimes
inflicted upon daughters
wives
sisters
mothers
friends
neighbors
strangers
ancestors
descendants

relentless
has been your assailing
tending to your biggest failing
rendering yourself invalid
by and of your own availing

eventually, you must understand
without women, there is not man

for we live on our mother’s earth
because our mothers gave us birth
there is no other savior, sir
existence is not heaven-sent

presently our plight has shown
what all women have ever known

that thirsty eyes and empty minds
bring idle hands to victimize
the innocent
the defenseless
without the fear
of consequence

the fallout
subsequently following
their lack of self-control
to sate their whim
they spend our souls?

I DON’T THINK SO!

now you must atone

Pavlovian Lapdogs

petulant plebians pandering prose
spawned out of spite from depictions composed
of pithless and petty ploys poised to appease
a princess of poisonous pedantry peeved
with patrons plucked patiently tempered by pique
their person purloined spurred by spurious speech
supinely complying peremptorily
pliable pupils impaired by erred pleas
obsequious as pavlovian lapdogs
a precedent of appalling demagogue
imparting dispatch surreptitiously reaped
to pose such a perfect impression oblique
to passively present through public dispose
promotion of disreputable depose
to please their despot’s pathetic importunes
perilous plots born of perceived impugn
sparing none, for all are prone as her pawns
through solipsist eyes of contempt and despond

“Choices”

no woman chooses.

the word “choice”
is a quaint affectation
of male privilege

one that shifts
the burden
onto the woman’s shoulders

with a simple
single syllable
of sinister
silver-tongue

that speaks volumes
of the depraved disconnect
of daddy’s deflection

defecting

neglecting

such wretched
subjection

to misogynist mindsets
that fret
at any hint
shown to impede
its quest for glory

its aweless reverie

of his requisite bequest

that rests for no burden
not even those wrought
by its own wanton hands

with nary a thought

for the “choice”
lies with man

to own up to his deeds
to reap what was sown
beyond his own base needs

choosing not to desert
to then foster a trust
that would honor what is just

by accepting
the circumstance born
of his lust

he must stand tall supinely
to shatter all doubt
in the matters regarding
the wrath of his route

for women most oft
are forever distraught

abandoned
bereft
left exploited
with naught

whilst these men prance
with ease
frolicking fancy-free
fleeing scene
with the breeze
having sown their ill-seed

for their ego
surpasses all
with such vomitous gall
as a life is forestalled

ne’er to answer the call
so appalling this trait
leaving life in its wake
only flight will he take
once his whim has been slaked
without further adieu
in a cloud of hot dust
and a fervid salute
served most proud and abrupt
rendering hearts nonplussed
like a billowing gust
once his will has been thrust
turns militantly brusque
with such fierce flippancy
throws all under the bus
in a thunderous peal
it’s a wonder surreal
as the moment reveals
what his true heart conceals

but there is no appeal
to that which cannot feel
so this dastardly deal
is so masterfully sealed
as a bastard is reared
in a fluster of tears
with a father not there
never bothered to care
not a moment to spare
to prevent all the fears
wrought by scrutinous stares
lurid thoughts turpid lots
from a surrogate’s leer
innocence left defenseless
for reasons so senseless
a treasonous pretense
to heathens demented

still lacking incentive
to try to prevent this
fate of such portending
consequence unending
of futures surrendered
no suture could mend
ill-repute so contentious
yet still men dispute
and refute their subjection
and all for the sake
of their putrid compulsions
so duly revulsing
profanely effusive
the lives left behind
are not those
which they must live
and thus it is a shit
for which they do not give
so willing to forfeit
the world they created
but for a mere moment
of fleeting amusement
that spurns an entire
existence
so uselessly
suffered for naught
and for what
but their ego’s
egregious gestalt

Painted Rainbows

I come
from a long
line

of cocaine

chains

and painted
rainbows

tainted aims
and hijacked
reins

that taunt me
with their wonton ways

led by tinted
saints

whose patronizing
love
would one day fade

in truth betrayed
through time’s display

were
all things ventured
for naught gained

save this dull pain
that e’er remains

to haunt me
in her silent
shades

rant of scant merit

I guess I’m an emotional masochist because I always fuq everything up far beyond the precipice of merit propitious.  Dare I say, it’s depressingly disconcerting for it’s duly quite fervid, the ferocity with which I unfailingly inflict this inbound bondage.  I have deemed a living hell upon myself whose reins I shall never relinquish.   Nor shall I ever dispel the curse that these verses disperse on my pithless personage.  I search for the dirge that might deign to divulge my divergent urges surging to ravage my visage with savage compulsion and vague supposition.  Vulgar and vile these vices I vaunt when enveloped in venting with vanity’s wont.  As I saunter hauntingly to a daunting demise.   I witness this witless world through wistful windows of time since rescinded sans residual reticence of rote compliance that readily dotes on my amative recalcitrance.  To further articulate this artless affliction so to properly parse the veil of this valse lacking prevalent cause, prudent pause must be given to parlay the amplitude of dispossession so that I mayhap, per se, gain from said deprivation.  With all best intentions mentioned ad infinitum, impressed upon god’s greatest audience of none.  Yet somehow I find that the soul of my mind ever shuns me thus spurring to run underground just so that I may hide from this hideous horror whorled in writhing. Undermining my chances to shine with such vibrancy confined to contrivance in idle contradiction to idyllic ideals.  Where no sound is present to presage profound plights of piteous people persistently perishing garishly sinking into sentient pits of sapient despair.  And here I lay, hapless in hyporeactive states hopeless to extend a helping hand bearing the selflessness of our sole salvation.  To solve any quarrels of lore’s requiem as ennui quandaries of quietus quell squeamish skin squandered.  Acclimatization to scandal and scourges encouraging naught but a purging averred. Spurious inference evinced disingenuously, a word so misused it defines what is wincing.  Thrust upon miasmic oceans of plasma in plumes plotting schisms of ruinous rue.  Sophists usurping poised with dissemblance, in spite of supinely presented sound pleas.  At which point I ponder to pander implore that you please apprise me what purpose this is for. Aside from assuaging an aging aplomb ere appearing as pompous as this pen’s pathetically impaired plies of reasoning so paltry. Alas, I digress, for my state of distress is distorting the functions compressing my chest.  Lest I cease and desist I shall cease to exist but at least I know this much is blissfully true: I am fuqd and I cannot resist this fool’s fate of such languorous and lasting lamenting libration.  Intent on selling my soul to the devil in reveries of such voracious dyspepsy and lack of discretion so disseminating degrading the ground that I share with my fellow formations of foul indignation interred.  In tombs of tempestuous vestibules flailing in failure so profound it resounds and reverberates in sonorous echoes that beckon our reckoning in this armageddon that hails from charred skies. Rippling throughout our decrepit contortions condemned to a cold crippling morphine drip faintly gripping death’s sinewless hand where we lie.

rant of dreams forsaken

In life, we are plagued with many things. Some serve to compel us forward. Some, seem only to exist to thwart our pusillanimous progress toward the arbitrary goal of being human. What on earth is this innate desire to adhere to such insidious standards of corporeal existence? What is this tethering to that which can only be thought of as tormented torturing? To be able to reasonably anticipate the fate of each moment is a fate worse than death itself. To know the rhythm of each step.  The cadence of every footfall. To know the precise frame of time in which that insidious sliver of seeping sunlight will slip in through the window’s crack to smack you into the oblivion of consciousness. Beholden to the call of nature’s never-ending reminder that our minds are moored to primal needs to which we must abide. To know that if we ever hope to reach our dreams ever dangling within our reach on string-bound carrots tied to sticks that sit firmly within the grasp of capitalistic ceremony. Only to be ripped from our hands as the sky rips off its fleece of sloe that flickered with the promises of worlds we’ve yet to know. Worlds we once had known. Our dreams become less reasonable as reason wriggles into our conscious condemnation of the hope we must forgo. The cost exceeds the measures of the treasures life might show us. And so, we go from lavish fiction in depictions of our making to the stark and unforgiving scripts seemed written solely to afflict us. Imprisoned by a temporality that deems our freedom nothing more than fruitless. Scheming to destroy the only things that make this life worth living. And believe that it’s a given that regardless of how much we strive to live the lives that linger long in silent songs that writhe in our subconsciousness, we slowly die each time we’re forced to lift our eyelids open.  To the moment of our hope’s demise, we try to trick ourselves into thinking thoughts in which our dreams aren’t sinking fast like ghostly ships aghast into the vast, dark abyss of bottomless abandon. So that we might barely subsist. This is not the life we want. Dubious portrayals made to convey a fervid fantasy none can achieve lest they bereave their one and only soul’s reprieve by leaving all that could have been.  To sleep beneath the silent seas of muted pleas whose surface screams tempestuously with festering feelings of remorse and discontented cries of silent implore. Born into a life of languishing where anguish rules as king with such an iron fist the siren’s kiss falls into effigy. It’s far beyond what’s known as wrong but come the shadow of the dawn we must persist as listless pawns e’er clamoring just to go on.  For if we were to choose a fate not left effete by our own feet and force ourselves to deviate from what’s accepted and expected we would find ourselves neglected by our peers appearing queer whose scolding sneers and jilted jeers sustain our ever-loving fears of failure as our freedom fades.  As quickly as we can adhere to anhedony-addled tears of consequence beyond compare. We forsake freedom for the sake of filling holes of corporate waste for ends that we will never taste. A lifetime of egg on our face. There is no hope for time replaced. Still, knowing this, we must awaken without time to contemplate our dreams in hypnagogic states that hold the key needed to free our soul from these arbitrary weights. Inflicted on our conscious being bearing on our consciences absconding with the only thing that would ensconce our existence. But our purpose has been purloined for acquisition of gold coin in copious amounts of which we’ll never see by all accounts. As pointless is this penned appeal I must present this truth concealed for I must voice these things I feel lest I succumb to my ideals of suicidal impetus of such unbridled force that thrusts upon me like this bed of bricks from where I now sit writing this.