Give the Earth Back

This will be my last post here, sadly. I'd just much rather keep my writing personal.

Your thirst for private property.
Modern manifest destiny.
It all leads back to bigotry.
Screwing people to get ahead.
Other can't even be fed.
Fuck you and your goddamn mall.
Consumerists assholes taking.
Corporate pricks constantly faking.
A feigned relationship,
To deceive an ignorant public.
Away time will continue to tick.
Until you steal it all.

This world was not made to be taken and divided up for the personal gain of a select few.
Fuck your racism, fuck your fascism, your sexism, ageism, your specieism, fuck itall. And fuck you.
  • Current Music
    submission hold - ed anger

Beware of punctuation errors. This is a twenty-minute piece

i had gotten to a point in my life where i hated everything. I guess we all do that sometimes. hate ourselves. I hated who i was. who i had become. i hated my parents. friends. i hated my life. i wanted to wipe it all clean and start again. but that wasn't an option. i wasn't built with a reset button. changing myself just seemed to hard to deal i walked away.
This Is My EvensongCollapse )

Shattering (a thought on the Snowqueen)

My favorite fairy tale has always been The Snowqueen.  The whole idea of it filled my mind with wonder.  The story has so many elements to it, so many revolving ideas.  A mirror, a rose, ice, love, talking flowers and flying reindeer, gypsys, and devils, and the four seasons.  It is a story for everyone.  I wrote this really short story thing based on my version of the Snowqueen, which is told through The Snowqueen's point of view.  Someone suggested that I should post it here.  So here it is.

ShatteringCollapse )

  • Current Music
    Gold Dust-Tori Amos

So far out of my mind...something's happening...something's happening - Jimi Hendricks

They made the cloud in a vain attepmt at that illusive title: God. It was a brilliant idea, in their one had tried before. No one had bothered. It was so beautiful that they set it above a mountain and rejoiced in the cool shade, they praised each other's skill, power, genius. It was so beautiful that they could no longer keep it to themselves! The whole world should share this gift, they said to each other...and sat out to create more...scattering them across the globe. 'Now the world is perfect...and we are God.' They told each other...then they cried because their feet got wet.

When did all of this start?

Destruction of freedoms, mutilation of the earth,
We've all delt with these things since the time of our births.
So-called elected officials doing these things in our names,
We can't allow them to continue their selfish games.
People working their nine to fives,
Can't they see they're barely alive?
We must break out of this cycle we're in,
And start really living our lives again.
Slaves to their technology, their wage,
We're all living in the progress age.
An age where people can't even communicate,
Without being watched and analyzed by the State.
This progression is no benefit to you or me,
Only helpful to the powerful and wealthy.
As far as I'm concerned, their progress don't mean shit,
The fight won't be easy, but til death we will not quit.
  • Current Music
    operation: cliff clavin - part III

a composition

Our hero wakes up sunday alone,
The jitled, depressed composer sighs
He begins his symphony with a meldoic tone,
A lullabye made up of all her lies
His ears still heard her whispering
"I love you, we'll never be rearranged"
he laughed to himself as they were disappearing,
as those words, and the song, changed
A score of turmoil filled the room
With notes of rage ringing in the hall
He remember the moments near their doom
Those fights, like the song, predicted a fall
Our hero played this song sunday, looking to mend
He finally found his final note, bringing about an end

And Her Popsicle Melted Into A Sugary Dream

The red vinyl of the booth clung painfully to

Preteen legs where I sat,

Sipping my malt as Jack, the Pumpkin King

Waved my mighty sword at me from the pages

Of an old comic book.

"Times, they are a changin'," Dylan, my epic hero

In acid-washed denim warned me.

The electic-charged words seeped into the air

Landing on my lips Spicysweet like cinnamon

I rolled up my comicbook, leaving it

Abandoned on the table, as I pick up

The car keys and

Drive away from my ignorance.

...that tune was played out anyway.