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.

love poem for the apocalypse part 3

though death may greet me at any moment,
everything is alright
and everything is ok

for the blood that runs as my circuitry
the cerebral lightning that defines my perceptions
and the chemical change that gives me direction
need not last forever

but within the thoughts that slowly crawl
through my bespectacled head
there exists these creatures
with lives eternal

experiences -
priceless!, says the wisest man i have known.
those fleeting images and feelings of exploding moments
that tantalize the senses -
they define this tattered world as I know it,
with illusions that fool me and drive me mad
defining reality as it is known

memories -
those hazy windows to the shattered and incomprehensible past
those old hags that sit around and moan about sexual dysfuntion
those burned out angels that talk to themselves, lost in space,
whose memories are curiously missing or incomprehensible
they bring you up and
bring you down and they pointlessly shove you around -
they are the living dead
roaming around your ghost town mind

divinations -
whether soothsaying based on the meaningless zodiac
or mere anxiety of what lies ahead,
we foolishly claw at the void of mystery
only to sacrifice it's majesty
wallowing in puddles of empty superstition,
looking to prophets and seers rather than the all knowing now;
attempts to see what lies ahead
only leave us nauseated and braindead

but let me tell you my friends, the end-times are here
they're happening right now,
they're more than just near

we're either cowboys indians or monks
and we can't stop living our roles
still reading from that moldy old script
that we fished out of the lake before the sewage cleared

we're wasting our time,
contemplating loudly and obnoxiously
in our costumes of pride and esteem.
all pomp and circumstance, no spontaneity,
we claim to carry the truth and strive to guide the masses

but we only end up bored
dead,
diseased and
devoid of pleasure,
creating vast expectations that only separate us from the moment,
building temples of doom and industry that satisfy our need for inhumane stimulation

self destruction is how we respond -
we pursue annihilation in the name of escaping this mess,
romanticizing degradation and
writing poetry and punk rock songs
in our attempts to understand
and finally come to terms with
the emptiness that lies at hand

but don't shout, don't scatter, don't think these things truly matter
please don't worry
don't worry bout' a thing;

please don't worry about the voices in your head
please don't worry that god is dead
please don't worry about the feds at your door
please don't worry about nuclear war
please don't worry about the stock market crash
please don't worry about the radiation flash
please don't worry about neurological disease
please don't worry about existential unease
please don't worry about getting to heaven
and please don't worry about going to hell

please,
just have no fear
for the end-times
are finally here