listening to the theatre of eternal music

those endless echoeng sounds of pain and terror
creaking in the old cellar, coming out in the morbid night
they speak the minds of the disillusioned and disturbed
never stopping, never ceasing
relentless and infernal like the fires of discontent
that burn in the mind of the sun
and torture the sinners in hell

but sometimes a voice of beauty arises in the malestrom
and rises to speak a tale of redemption
we listen with our always almost shut
knowing that soon enough the morbid truth will be revealed

since when was optimism not a joke?

can we hope to find a truth that will not drive us insane?
maybe not, maybe we're doomed to wallow in this idiotic death trip

but either way we linger on
and in the back of the mind the orchestra plays
screaming, shouting, droning and droning and droning
that mad infernal noise
that damages the ears
yet leaves the mind devoid of pain

depressing

‎"I woke up this morning with a damaged brain, you tried to comfort but only worsened the pain. No lover could help me escape this life, only the love of death's sweet knife. But regardless you spoke in ways to lift my spirit but my soul is empty with no ears to hear it. If there's something to live for it surely aint love and there's surely no heaven waiting above. Live life in sin and hope it feels good, your bodies as worthless as rotting wood."- some guy i met at a gas station

lovers of life are worshippers of death

someday i'll get some peace and quiet,

but for now i'll settle for the beautiful terror of noise.

for peace and quiet is the bidding of the old -

the ones with only absolute silence to live for,

who fear the vices of the youth

which make love as their bodies decay

they march with tranquillity,

deeper and deeper

into that strangely familiar place;

the void,

that hole we've been digging for oh so long

do I follow them?

why of course,

for the noise begins to disgust me -

these days my eyes prefer to be closed,

my mind my heart and my mouth as well.

but soon the silence begins to manifest,

the static fading further and further into the atmosphere -

it becomes apparent

i am at the end of my life and i have chosen this,

not some governor of the soul or depraved virus within.

the true terror lies within the silence,

the sound of the coldest of truths being revealed;

i listen carefully and

i stop marching in this pathetic parade and

i quiet the voices in my head

and i listen carefully

the noise is there;

it always will be

if only it was this simple

all i want to do

is offer some new ideas to people

and provoke some thought

if i can do that then i'm satisfied with my life

yet another synchronicity....

So I've always had a fascination with Charles Manson. As far as serial killers are concerned he's probably the coolest one. Using a combination of scientology, LSD, and sexual prowess he was able to turn his flower children into murderers with a lust for blood. He represented the evil lurking within the counterculture, the dark side of letting ones spirit run free to do whatever it pleased. His face, with it's piercing eyes and goofy grin, staring at me hypnotically and urging me to violently unleash my id, is a face I will never forget.

I've just been getting into the music of Charles Manson, and I honestly don't know why it has taken me this long. I always knew he had an album of psychedelic folk released on ESP records (one of my favorite record labels), but for some strange reason I didn't check it out until recently. So I finally downloaded and listened to his album 'LIE: Love and Terror Cult' and naturally loved it. Beyond the general novelty appeal of the record it's a prime example of California psychedelic folk-rock and the evil lurking within makes it even more fascinating.

Last night I was flipping through channels on TV in stoned haze with some friends and we came across a TV show on Fox where a mom and a dad are talking to their college aged son. For some reason we stopped and started to pay attention. The parents are talking to him and he brings up Charles Manson. Then the mom says "ya know Charles Manson made some good music. I listened to his album and it's not bad". The weird thing about this is that I had said the exact same thing less than 10 minutes before. The fact that the R. Crumb Mr. Natural (one of my favorite cult icons ever) was for some reason on the kid's shirt made it even more and personal. All I could think about was how one of my teachers said that everything to see on TV or in the movie is there on purpose.

Maybe this is a sign that I need to seriously start a psychedelic cult and kill some rich people.

some thoughts

Overwhelming urges of violence with no healthy outlet can be dangerous.

Especially with those who have fanatical and dogmatic belief systems that lead to ideological and sexual repression.

The masses cannot be repressed for too long before it has dangerous consequences.

Often fanatics are so blinded and enslaved by their ideology that they cannot understand the world outside of it. Every aspect of their thinking is dominated by it to a point where they do not realize it.

Our own modern American culture contains elements of this. There are ideas that are so locked within our culture and engrained in our consciousness from birth that we can't think beyond them. In fact we see them as part of the natural order of the universe.

For example, our modern gender roles of masculine and feminine are so ingrained in our way of thinking we see them as the result of biology rather than social construct. It is the same for race.