Below Your Topsoil…
Below your topsoil,
below the superficial,
below the fuckbook ‘likes’ tapped auto-fill to be polite or vapid following the script,
when a friend posts something….
beyond the talk of footy or comparable nods to the latest narrative we are told to speak about,
by twitter or insta or the ‘news’ we find when simply turning our phones on,
with barely anyone realising that is not real news,
its silicon valley marketing social media channels,
working with the token ‘government’ towards shared goals…
and we are the product,
their sponsors are the clients….
Its all fucking meaningless hollow goon talk geared towards convenience…
dulling of the primal urges towards drivel talk ‘its all good’,
repeating routine little different to blades of grass,
just a little more movement and a lot more words.
Its the enemy of NATURE………………..
Its digitised humanity with the soul absent.
Its guidance from corporations to find any hint of SPIRIT feral and offensive,
to avoid,
turn away from with disgust as we have been told by twitter,
leave anything brutal for the cops to deal with…rightly so eh!
confirming our blindness to the bars which cripple all that matters most within our essence.
We are living in dark , muddled times,
those who have any perception of the HORROR sweeping across the lands owned by the overseers of our overseers,
hoping we will somehow be okay,
if we just keep following the rules.
Mid life crisis,
I dont want to help the american empire and join ISIS,
My hideous opinion of the savagery of our system>>>>
making mass graves of foreign families and villages,
gift wrapped as ‘spreading democracy’,
essentially….
our overseers are the most brutal and powerful of Earth….
leads to problems…
I go on dates with well traveled attractive women,
then am undone,
when already appalled at myself playing far too politely nice,
I am challenged with ‘you must know your white male privilege???’
part of me ponders briefly how eager I am to know her in the primal, absent of words wilderness,
then I respond…
‘Genghis Khan ended a few lives…Hannibal, a hero of mine, slaughtered a few more…Darius III encouraged more to an early demise…and am I to be guilty for the worst of my crowd for giving gold and weapons to the worst of the blacks in africa?’
The problem is not colour,
its the reality of HUMANITY.
I want to escape my primate crowd,
flutter wings with the butterflies,
yet im too human and sensitive,
I absorb EVERYTHING…
my quiet horror and the only reason for my veiled as poet turn to the artists and poets,
some masquerade as something I AM NOT AND HAVE NEVER BEEN….
im more Pan than Ribaud…
I am disgusted by looking at my own naked words,
let alone the instagram imagery of lost souls taking selfies seeking heart symbols for nowt but their hollow ego…
its different with little souls,
to have just YOU, smiling, sultry…
smacks of a desperation to be liked vapid for your most malnourishing outline of projection,
hence why I throw myself into the tides of the lunar symphony,
seek to feel part of anything more powerful and meaningful//
We can trust nobody,
especially not ourselves.
if you believe the mass media is false,
and evil,
why repeat them, as in ever value the corporate/state message as anything but false?
and more importantly, before looking at far flung lands, lets look at our own, to see how great they are,
Gaddaffi was a savage.
Cross that chap even in whispers and find your throat cut by your family,
who have been told ‘you all die or HIM’…..
Yet our own Overseers are far more cruel and slaughter thousands more with no slur against them, just earmarked for PROFIT,
the killing promoted as helping those we pay taxes to maim and destroy…
I cannot stop the global war machine,
yet maybe I can use my curse of tap ever wide open to try seek others of open-ish heart and some hint of similar soul,
and eagerness to howl….
Tell my story,
hope to inspire others to pounce into the unknown with their heart held wide open…
or go to WAR.
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