:Twist, Twitch: I think i might have something worth writing about.. and i'm not referring the never changing, ever static state of me... your coy-less narrator... the ever pushing never ending push to burn the world down... if looks could kill a thousands souls would be filling the burning lakes of fire below... to see the atrocities done in the name of god.. country.. selfish greed.. ambition.. politics.. no.. no band wagon here.. just the ever burning ember wish it could be stoked beyond provocation in action... wishing that the one thing everyone dreads would happen.. war.. famine.. dissension to the point of riotess uprising... you know i hate hippies.. but when hippies get angry.. they same some fantastic things.. to quote one such "There's a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious... makes you so sick at heart... that you can't take part. You can't even passively take part. And you've got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you've got to make it stop. And you've got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it that unless you're free, the machine will be prevented from working at all" and yet some how.. even screaming that until you spit blood doesn't begin to translate the inhumane horror being injected into us all every second of everyday.. and we accept it.. we close our eyes and move on.. because we think it doesn't touch us.. we think that even pondering the atrocities will cause our fragile world to change.. our lives to become a little less enjoyable... but i ask you.. how? how can you bare witness to these things.. these acts against nature.. against ourselves.. against your brother, your sister, your mother.. and sit back in under the illusion of security and let it all happen.. the most outrageous conspiracy theories couldn't hypothesize what is actually going on.. how every single person of power is only there because you.. we.. are too lazy to get them out.. that the man on top of the hill who gets fat on the interest his money makes in some bank sits on a fragile illusion that you won't do anything to change his greed... his corruption... he lives his life wallowing pearls, never thinking of the swine... in the back of his skull hoping, praying.. the swine doesn't reach up and touch him.. but we can.. he has hands as i do.. as you do.. his skin shivers in the cold as your's.. as mine.. and his hair smells just as bad when he is tossed into a fire as ours' does... so bitch.. we complain.. we gather... we sit in.. we march.. expecting other men on hills to change... it's laughable... do yourself a favor.. do you brother and sister a favor.. you mother and father... reach out.. touch that man.. grab hold of him.. remind him that he is not so far away as to not be pulled.. dragged off that hill...
so, so what do you do? sit behind a glowing monitor typing on a backlit keyboard? is it enough? don't be the gerbils.. be the insane that see the world for what it truly is.. and take it out on those that abuse and take advantage... what am i doing? inciting rage.. promoting dissension.. plowing the field and sowing my ideals so that you may feel what i feel.. that you may see what i see.. and maybe after enough poking.. enough prodding.. we can stand up and drag that man off that hill and toss his body onto the flames...
What would you expect to find....
The Prophecy of Man
The SoulKeeper
The Era Of No-Feeling
Trap of Dreams
Burning Inside
Twisted ((something new and fun))
