Some Crappy Shit

-
A deceitful belief, a certain set of presences; oddly behooving as it may seem, no reflection is seen. Feels like infertile clouds trying to pour down rain. More like a rotten cast. Yet the initial concept turns out to be the dispute in concern. Or is it that the eyes that bear witness to the trade are synthesized with deception? By what image has this been cast? From where has it been sent? Should not such ascension of uncertainty undermine it all?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Holidays (My Casimir Pulaski Day)

-
Image
I'm just lying down, staring at the cracks of a mirror I broke. All the other things I don't understand, they are all out there taking part in what they must. I used to keep on wondering, searching for an answer. It put me in distress, filled me with distaste. So I just gave up, stopped all my thoughts, jammed them in a dark room, and said "Forever goodbye." Took over then my heart. Said "Forever, I'll love." It kept on walking the line that it should never have. By the way that it fell, in that state of well, it did cheer me up. It was an unseen hell. "It all turned out fine, or at least OK." That's what I tell myself, and I include no delay. I'm just lying down, rolling around. Forevers are gone, gones are forever. So why don't you just lie down, try to roll around, say why you're doing this. It would all be alright, or at least OK. For everyone I know. And all the rest that I don't. P.S. Casimir Pulaski Day is a loc
Read more

Cool, cool, cool, cool, ...

-
Image
Cool (x2) Cool (x5) The other day, I read somewhere that no work of art worth something has ever been a result of happiness. That ought to be wrong, right? Common, tell me?* I had been avoiding even the jotting down of my own thoughts, which I do on a haphazardous non-stop basis, until I could manage to get a hold of joy or something along the lines of it. A good deal of time was spent on it. That can't have been all for naught. The belief that a masterpiece like The Rolling Stones' Play with Fire is merely a consequence of misery must be a contagious load of highly convoluted dogmatism forcefully fed to an empty vessel of a mind. It is my belief that all such pieces come from a connivance of uncertainty. And not in a way that leaves one's thoughts in turmoil. But in one in which the grayness of life's mechanics are embraced and put into use for further improvement. Love and hate, desire and disgust, joy and sadness, pride and shame, hope and fear; these all are the
Read more