Sunday, April 27, 2008

A Prison of Pride

"Now look here, son. Don't do something you're gonna regret."

Recoiled and cornered in his own kitchen, the prison warden kept a leery eye on the angry pistol pointed straight to his heart. But the steadfast intruder couldn't have been swayed by a hurricane. Dressed in black with a ski mask, his whole being an extension of the gun. The warden's vaunted snake-like words wouldn't save him this time.

"Funny," spoke the mask. "I was just about to say the same to you."

"Just put that gun down and it's gonna be all right. You'll only be making things harder on yourself you pull that trigger." The warden's southern drawl oozed a magnetic pull to do what he said. Years and years of snake-charming worminess could put even the most hardened of criminals under his spell. He was the master puppeteer of chain gangs, mass brutality and rogue thugs with a license to maim. No man had bested him and his institutional authority yet.

The gunman's voice was razor sharp. "What we have here is a failure to communicate."

"Luke?" answered the startled warden. "That you, boy? We done buried you. What's your real name, son?"

The reply was deliberately inadequate. "Luke."

"I don't know what you're on about but nothing you do can bring that boy back."

"Not aiming to."

"If you put that gun down, we can talk about this proper-like. I can sees somethin's eatin' on ya."

"I'm fine, boss." The voice was cold, unwavering. "I just have one question to ask you."

Chills went up the warden's spine. Here was an adversary that would take all his wiles to master. The warden's face was the picture of accommodation. "Well, sure. I'll answer anything you want. I knew you was a reasonable sort."

"I just want to ask you: Do you regret it? Do you regret what you've done to the men under your control? Do you regret the pain you've brought into this world?"

"I don't regret nothin'!" lied the warden - it was a lie he struggled to tell himself every day. "These are bad men we're talking about here. They get what's they deserves. It ain't up to me. They decides their own punishment. I don't keep them in line and all hell breaks loose. No, sir, I don't regret a thing I've done to do my job."

Defiance was always the best bet. The warden's institution was untouchable. When push came to shove, the naysayers always backed down. The choice was between him or the criminals. He couldn't wait to further the argument. But the man in the mask merely chuckled.

"You think you've got it all figured out, don't you? This little power game of yours - no one can touch you. It's just funny really if you could see just how pathetically petty your life is." The gunman was genuinely amused but deadly serious. But the warden was ready to bluff it out.

"I've had about enough of this. If you're gonna shoot me then shoot me! I don't need no gun to make me right."

"No, you need about twenty of them." Stalemate. "I'll ask you again: Do you not regret the pain?"

Outside, the gusty wind blew cold as shadows of night time leaves fluttered by the old square framed window. How empty this house when stripped bare of its illusion. The old, grey warden wanted to go home with all his might. Words of sway now seduced him. Did he dare to chance the agonizing pain of lying a second time? "No, suh," he gruffed. "I don't regrets none of it! I won't stand here and let the likes of you stand in judgment of me."

"Then I can't regret the pain I bring." The gun spoke with two vicious shots shattering each of the warden's two shin bones. No one heard his screams. No one came to his rescue. Unrepentant Pain came to visit him that night - the one thing he had spent a lifetime avoiding. His writhing soul wailed in torment.

"I came here not to judge you but for you to judge you, to bring you out into the light. You thought lying would save you - as you falsely believed it had in the past. But tonight I am the Avenging Angel and your regrets are mine. But don't worry, I shall not kill you.

"Instead, I've given you a prison of your own.

"It will be like this: a cripple, bound in a wheelchair the rest of his life, forever dependent on others to live, appears before the prisoners. The cripple knows they know how he reached such a sorry state and he wonders if he's too cruel will it happen again. Will another abused prisoner come after me and finish the job? Fear and paranoia wither his soul to his dying days. But there is a way out. The cripple can become as the lamb, gentle and healing. I ask you, sir, will you become like the lamb?"

"Never the lamb!" spat the cripple.

"Then never is when you will leave your prison."

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Bum With a Gun

"There once was a man with a gun,
He said, "I'm a son-of-a-gun!
"I know what I'm doin'
"So don'cha be screwin'
"With a man who plays with his gun!"


The Bum With a Gun
Kept his head on the run
To ensure his will would be done.

But Jesus, Who Knew Better
Said his gun he must fetter
Before he'd become a Regretter.

Yet stiff-necked bums never listen,
"On my parade you are a-pissin'!
"There's nothin' in Heaven I'm missin'!"

"Don't call me a brute,
"Or your head I will shoot,
"Your foul words suddenly moot!"

But as he was speaking
His havoc was wreaking
The Bum's bloody foot a-leaking.

"It's your fault, you hater!
"Just another damn traitor!
"You freaking negative baiter!"

"This Negative Bitch,
"Made my trigger itch,
"And caused me a permanent hitch!"

So the Bum With a Gun
Said "It's the will of the Son",
And his savior saw no more sun.

"To see what I need
"Is to see my heart bleed
"But none must know I'm not freed."

"To see what I need
"Is to take my good greed;
"It's twisted dreams that I heed."

Then a Bitch With A Beer
Came comfortably near
To say what he wanted to hear.

For though he'd a mullet
She'd give him a bullet
For when it came time to pull it.

"A friend to the end!
"My ear yours to bend,
"Silencing truths not meaning to send!"

"My gun's fully armed!
"I can never be harmed!
"My enemies had best stand alarmed!"

But what the Bum didn't know
Was that his greatest foe
Had just shot off his bloody right toe!

Righteously reloaded -
And his flattery goaded,
He sought his lies to be quoted.

"I'm a Bum With a Gun!
"My will must be done!
"If ever my war's to be won!"

Then he shot once again
At toes that had sinned;
Now missing two from his ten!

Beer Bitch stood confused,
She can't let him lose!
And fed him more ammo to use.

"It's easy for me
"To see my enemy:
"It's bitches who question me."

"For a man in the right
"Must keep up the fight!
"Or my ego will die of its fright."

He loved his supporters -
The world's greatest hoarders -
Prosperity within their borders.

They said of the other:
You are my true brother;
For none saw the truth as his mother.

"It makes me feel good
"To hear I do as I should,
"For that's what gives me my wood!"

"Those who say I should think,
"I say you're a fink!
"Hope for my lies you would sink."

"If you give me my way,
"In all that I say,
"Bright futures I'll ever portray."

So as his friends fed him death -
He smiled at their breadth.
Until finally he shot their last breath.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

The New American Patriot!

[Used to be, when an American came home from work and found people inside his house, the invaders got their asses shot off. But now that we are nation of invaders, we welcome intruders with open arms. It's the new way to show your loyalty, it's the new hip: selling out.]

"Whoa, dudes, this is awesome!" yeehawed the Patriot. "What's that thing you're putting in the corner do?"

The two Stormtroopers hated interruptions but felt the need to swat away the gnat. "It's a motion sensor that covers your entire apartment. You can't take a shit without us knowing about it."

"Damn, man, I bet the terrorists are shitting right now just thinking about this!" The Stormtroopers rolled their eyes. "So will I need permission to shit or can I take one any time I want?"

"Anytime you want - for now."

"That's some really bad ass monitoring! I can't wait to put on my "Monitor me, I'm a patriot!" T-shirt. And all this is free too. It's like a KGB Christmas or something." The Patriot's speech was failing to impress. He needed to try harder. "What about black helicopters? I heard you got these choppers with like super powers to take people out. Think some of them might come around here too?"

A testy "Yes" replied the trooper as he tied the TV access line into the monitoring cable to record all viewing. Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside, drawing them all to the door. In the apartment building across the parking lot a man was being dragged out by dark clothed men in ski masks. A van with darkened windows waited for him as he kicked and screamed "Fascists thugs!" and "Jackboot Nazis!" to his abductors.

"Hey, I know that dude, he's a liberal! No lie."

A small crowd had gathered at the noise. The man taken away was the neighborhood liberal whiner and most people were glad to see him go. He was always in their ear about "rights" and "civil liberties" and "justice". No one ever knew what he was talking about. This is America, Land of the Free! We already have those things. Problem child.

One kid even threw a rock as the van drove off. The Stormtroopers made note of this for possible recruitment later. They shook their heads in mock dismay. "Shame not everyone has your sense of patriotic duty, sir."

The praise prompted an orgasmic reply. "There's this dude at work, he's same way as that guy. He doesn't want to do anything to protect us. He'd just let all those crazy people come over and do whatever they wanted! That guy is nuts and says he doesn't want anyone knowing what he does!"

The Stormtroopers, guardians of America, were reassuringly confident. "Don't worry, sir. He'll be brought into line. There's too much at stake to allow that kind of thinking."

Egged on, the Patriot enthused: "I know! I told him that, for sure. I said if you got nothin' to hide you got nothin' to worry about!"

Striking a pose straight out of Iwa Jima, the Stormtrooper warrior speechified. "It's the war of our lifetime, a life and death struggle for our very survival. Follow us on our noble cause to defeat an enemy who places no value on freedom, an enemy who wants to drape you in a religion of total control, an enemy fighting in the name of God but completely blind to its own evil. Give them their way and all we hold dear will be destroyed."

"We've got to win at any cost! Long live America! Let freedom reign!" spouted an inspired Patriot.

As one Stormtrooper bent down to place the tracking bracelet on the Patriot's ankle, the Patriot continued to opine on the State of the Union to the other. "We're the greatest nation, man. Greatest there ever was! That's 'cause no one's ever valued freedom like we do. People in other countries, they can't give up control of their lives to their government 'cause their governments suck. Damn, I'm proud to be an American. I can hand you my life and know I'll never get fucked over like those losers in France and shit."

The Stormtrooper corrected him. "Well, of course we're going to fuck you over with what we find. It's our job. Anything you do we don't approve of, your ass is ours. These are serious times. We can't expect everyone to be the immature, naive, moron you are. You’re either with us or against us."

The Patriot was shocked and awed. "Wow, nobody can defy you guys!"

"Remember," lectured the steely-faced government instrument, "do what you're told and everything will be fine. Criticize us and you help the enemy. Obey us or the terrorists will win!"

"No problem, dude! Trust me, I'm happy to be serving my country! You lead and I will follow."

[As one Stormtrooper smirked knowingly to the other, they silently thanked the terrorists of the world to grant them such powers over a cowed populace. These two enemies of all free men knew the secret key to success: it's what people know about themselves that makes them afraid.]

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

Our President, the Giggling Monkey

Today, the Monkey giggled. The Monkey lives for days like these. Like an addict shooting pleasureful poison into his veins, our Presidential Primate rejoiced as he fed the Monster of destruction that lives within him. The life forces of hundreds and thousands and millions flowed into him, delivering fresh morsels of meat to a bottomless appetite. I need ever more lives to ruin! Be my frog! Just a few more months of hanging on, keeping the illusion of wellness alive, then he can walk away the victor leaving others to forever battle the false god he has built. But to do that, his true face must never show.

All day on TV shined the genuine general giving genuine gibberish. This the Monkey loves! He watches as his puppet dances at the bullets meant for him from the quixotic senators. The Monkey delights in the knowledge of knowing so many eyes are focused once more on his ever beloved lies he believes no one can prove. Lives that could have been focused on life are bent to focus on him. With mocking sneer the Monkey laughs as his bitch boy general frustrates the feckless accusers. Yes! cheers the Monkey, the more outrage the better!

The bitterness, the hate, the blinding fury - it all soothes the scathing soul of the Mad Monkey. He jumps up and down from his desk to the couch, then swinging from the chandelier and bouncing to the ground in glee. It's just not possible to contain the joy of this fetid fantasy fulfilled! I'm untouchable! Later, when he heard a commentator had said the President should have been grilled instead of the general, he ate a banana and grinned.

"But woe to you who are rich,
"for you have already received your comfort.
"Woe to you who are well fed now,
"for you will go hungry.
"Woe to you who laugh now,
"for you will mourn and weep.
"Woe to you when all men speak well of you,
"for that is how their fathers treated false prophets."

The Maniacal Monkey assures the world no such words apply to him. As long as there are the deceived and the deceitful to follow him the Smirker triumphs over a lost planet. His promise of a home for endless pride gives comfort to his demented disciples. Wildly, they flail verbal swords against non-existent enemies, vainly hoping to end the tortures of a doomed life. Until finally, one day, they slay themselves and the judgment of God has been executed.

Praise be to God!

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Random Thoughts in the Shadows

If you take away men's ability to make war, what have you? What are men really if they suddenly were no longer able to kill? I will tell you. They are slaves. Weak little creatures tethered to the moral strength of women. It's the dirty little secret all men try to hide. Men try to manufacture worth through war, hoping to somehow prove themselves as needed as they believe women to be. But the only way to hide the truth of who you are is to destroy everything you are. Many are the men with the courage to face death, few are the men with the courage to face life. Love takes more courage than war.

The only thing worse than not wanting to live is having to pretend you want to live when you don't. It cuts off your air.

I'd like to - but I can't.

I'd like to - but I won't.

Don’t bet on it.


"No. Noooooo. Please, not again. Please don’t. Dear God, help me. I can’t keep doing this. Please let me die. Please let me die. Just kill the world, God. Kill it all so I can live…"

"Do you love God, my son?"
"No, I don't love anyone who doesn't want me to live."
"Oh, but He does! He wants us all to live. There's not one of us he doesn't want to live!"
"He didn't want Jesus to live."

4,000 Soldiers killed in Iraq

The tragedy is far greater than that. But it drives home the point: Never, ever let yourself be used. Not by God or government or girls. You just end up dead in the end. Or worse – to be as I am – the living dead.

Writing while homeless is like writing while on a rollercoaster. Yes, there are some quiet moments but then the next thing you know you're dropping at a hundred miles an hour, screaming with terror, and by the time it's over you're in a place completely different than before.

    "Hey, dude, you’re naked!" giggled Stoner Guy.
    The nude Pretentious Man was dismissive: "You mental midget. Your problem is you're incapable of grasping the deeper meaning of what you see."
    "Whatever, man! All I know is I can see your wanker hanging down from here."
    "I seek to convey an idea far beyond your depth. It’s the intellectual dishonesty of clothing. We are all naked underneath. I am revealing that inner truth and thusly spreading enlightenment to the masses."
    "Oh, I get!" exclaimed Wannabe. "That’s brilliant! I want to spread enlightenment too!"

    Later, Stoner Guy got a phone call from the police station as his two cohorts asked to be bailed out from the "fascist, narrow-minded, conformist police cretins". Stoner Guy never did find the station - which was really OK because he was afraid to go there anyway. Afterwards, a movie executive called wanting to do a cinematic version of the trio's story which later became an art house smash.

The best thing about being alone is you never have to explain why you're crying.

Redneck motto: The more you bomb people, the safer you are.

It's not about who tells the most truth, but who can lie the best. That's the person we trust most. How else can we keep living a lie?

Nature knows all crimes.

Friday, April 04, 2008

Hanging Out With God On A Sunday Afternoon

"Ask and ye shall receive" says the Good Book and so after the umpteenth billionth time of bitching at God wanting to know: 'God, what in the fuck are You thinking??' I got really annoyed at never getting an answer. After all, God, aren't You ultimately responsible for this pile of shit here since You had the lame ass idea of creating us? Yeah I know, people don't have to suck. But we do. And I got all these existential questions for You like: Why can't I be sitting on the beach earning twenty percent?

Well, I guess I finally caught God's ear and I got my ass called up to meet my Maker. He told me I was quite famous up there in Heaven. I said, 'Oh really?', thinking He must have been reading my blog. "Yes," said God. "We call you Whiny Bitch. You complain you can't do anything when in reality you can do everything." "Oh yeah?" I retorted defensively, "Does that mean I can fart strawberries, then? See? I can't do everything after all!" God just stared at me with a Cheshire Grin. Let me tell you, it was fucking unnerving!! Then God-Dude finally says, "Do you want to fart strawberries?" Well, fuck...guess I wanted a little more out of life than that. So I slumped down beside the Big Guy in resignation and opened my ears.

We sat in silence for a time and when God got his sniper rifle and said to follow Him I admit I got a tad worried. For some reason, the word "Blasphemer!" kept repeating in my head. But God had something else in mind.

"I'm taking out Lynyrd Skynyrd's airplane," He explained.

"Again?? Goddam, and I thought you had grudge against me!"

"What do you mean 'again'?"

"Half the band got wiped out in '77. You gonna take out the other half now?"

"This is the '77 crash."

"But that was over 30 years ago! How can that be happening now?"

"There is no time here. Just events."

"Wow, you must have a helluva 'To Do' list then."

"Yes, it takes a lot to fill up eternity." God then fired off a shot at the fateful Skynyrd Convair as it plummeted to the ground. God fist pumped and then declared, "Excellent! I never miss!"

"Hey, I like Skynyrd. Why Ya gotta pick on the them?"

"You know how many times I hear 'Free Bird' up here? Besides, if it feels good, do it."

"Ah, I see Your point. So accidents aren't random, eh?"

"Some are, some aren't. In this case, it was asked for."

"Nobody asks to die!" I hopelessly proclaimed.

"You talk about whay you say there. I talk about what I hear here. Wakarimasu ka?"

"I think so - but that's awfully disturbing if You only hear my soul."

"I feel like painting. Follow Me to the Art Room, My most favorite of all places."

The Art Room was an endless wonderland of delight. And by endless, I mean literally endless. God said there was actually no end to this treasure room filled with writing and song and art of all kinds. All the riches of earth are worthless compared to what I found there. God said Earthlings rarely visited this place anymore and when I asked why He said, "Because you can't come here without learning a little bit about yourself. Eventually, the dying planets just stop showing up." I instantly recognized the horror of that statement.

"You mean I'm stuck with Superman and Batman remakes for the rest of my life??"

"Pretty much."

But when my Maker sat down at His easel, I instantly recognized the picture. "That's Van Gogh's bedroom! I love that painting!!"

"Me too. Vincent is doing an excellent job of getting out of the way and letting Me guide his hand. If only that boy loved himself as much I love him."

I recognized a Japanese print on the wall. "That's Hiroshige, isn't it?" God nodded as Vincent's painting took form. Suddenly a thought struck me. "Hey, have You unified Japan yet? That was awesome the way the Winds of Change came and brought them together."

"Sengoku Jidai? Been there, done that."

"Fuck! I can't believe I missed that!"

"You didn't miss it. You were there. But you can't just keep trying to relive it all the time."

"I know, but it was so cool to feel the breath of God on my soul as I fulfilled my destiny," I sighed. "Oh, hey, what did You think about my idea for building a Japanese castle as a modern day monument?"

"Actually, it was My idea, so yeah, it was a good one."

"Motherfucker! I knew it was a good idea!! Why didn't You give me the winning lottery ticket so I could build it, goddamit?"

"Not on My 'To Do' list."

"Well You just think of Yourself as perfect don't You? Can't change even one little list?"

"Do you want Me to?"

"No," I instantly replied. "Hey wait a minute. I didn't mean that!" Then I doubled up in pain.

"Sure you did. There's no lying up here. Better stand by your honest answer if you want the pain to go away."

"Ok, OK! I don't want to win the lottery!" The pain went away but God starting laughing as I said "Fuck!" about twenty times in a row. And then when I was all done, I said "Fuck!" again. God shook his head.

"Had you chosen life and not run away you could have had everything you wanted."

"Including Debby?"

"Especially Debby. Trust Me when I tell you two were made for each other."

"Part of me still is confused but, man, that sure does explain a lot of my guilt. My whole life is nothing but frustration!"

"Yes, it's frustrating to give gifts that are not accepted."

"Don't You ever get tired of being right?" I heaved in exasperation.

"Just trying to bring you into the fold. Why would I do anything else? Come, I will show you an interesting event."

God took me to the War Room, the place He said where people come to lie. I watched as He wrote out an Executive Order saying simply "Protect This Man". An angel obediently took it to literally embark on a mission from God. I myself am not good at taking orders without question, but then again, I never had orders from God - have I? Curiosity got the best of me as I asked who the person was to be so important he could not die in war.


"Hitler?? Adolph fucking Hitler? Kill him now! Gimme that sniper rifle! I'll risk Your wrath to take his sorry ass out. Goddam that motherfucker! God damn him to hell! I know what he did!"

"A match only starts a flame among dry kindling."

"What the fuck does that mean? There are times when you gotta do what you gotta do. Why do you let that man run amok?"

"Why let any of you run amok? The point is his voice exists to this day. I keep that voice alive to see if you will listen to those words or Mine. Those who listen to Hitler, Stalin, Bin-Laden - they must be separated from those who revere the truth. It's a self purging. The Tears of Man break My heart in rivers of sorrow. I am grieving for you day and night. Lamentations of darkness reach out to Me so I sent you this note:

"Cold hearted orb that rules the night,
Removes the colors from our sight.
Red is grey and yellow white,
But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion."

At the sight of my Maker crying, I wept also - as would you. I wanted to leave this place called Heaven. I wondered if I only soiled it. I returned back to where I started: What means anything? God knew my woe and I knew He meant to comfort me when He said, "Come, I wish to show you the place I'm most proud of."

"Yes," I complied, "but can I ask you one thing first. Where is the vile voice of Hitler now?"

"In the one who slanders Me most: the anti-Christ 43rd President of the United States."

I followed him as He tenderly tended to Heaven's garden, an endless field of electric flowers that shone the lights of the spectrum from every cell. Never in my life had I seen anything so alive. The intensity of life was so strong you felt as if the life-force of an entire planet had been squeezed into each cell. I see now the flowers on our planet are mere echoes of these flowers. And in that moment, all confusion left my mind.

I used to think, why did God make us knowing our capacity for evil and inflicting distress? It seemed such an irresponsible thing to do. And the reason is: because death does not have to be. All death comes from us, blocking out God from where all life flows. When you see the world as all life the search for meaning ceases.

Well of course God wanted to make us. Who wouldn't want such beauty to exist? Everything makes sense now. Why did I ever doubt? As God passed the Flowers of Life, they sung Her praises in unrelenting joy. They were some happy sons-a-bitches! My urge to join in overwhelmed me as I cried out, "Yes! Yes!" in complete understanding. This is what I want. It's what I always wanted: to be one with Love - the driving force behind each and every life. Mock the Flowers of Life at your own peril. Our true desires are already known.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

The Flower's Dream

I saw a flower in a field today, and in it I glimpsed the beauty of God. In a mystical moment, its warm, delicate petals seemed to hearken back to the ancient times of the beginning when men openly wondered All That Is Meant To Be. This flower gloried in the Sun it received and celebrated its place in the world. It asked not how or why things came to be but merely threw itself on the mercy of Nature.

And Nature was good.

"There's more to life than meets the eye" and never was that truer as I spied the treasure of this flower's radiance. I sensed it crying out to me, trying to share hidden secrets of the Universe. And I felt that just as Nature had rejoiced in Einstein's discoveries of Her true self, so would this flower rejoice were I to know the power of its gifts. It was a feeling of missing something so huge it would save the world. There are times, you see, when dreams are more real to me than anything I can touch.

And this flower took me to a place where dreams come true.

"We are not meant to die," it breathed. The flower spoke of great forces we knew nothing about - or maybe we have long forgotten. It spoke of the Power of Life - that by figuring out everything we had figured out nothing. But the most magical part was having my deepest of instincts confirmed: life is a good thing. All we had to do was accept it and walk on the water to Eternity as the flower had. Damn, I wanted to talk with that flower forever!

But I live in a world of invisible bars.

The fleeting moment of the flower passed all too quickly as the flatbed truck I rode in bounced over a jarring pothole and the oblivious driver continued to chew on his chaw on our way to deliver entry doors to a construction site. Had the truck stopped when I saw this flower of the Sun, it would have taken mere seconds to reach it. I was that close. But in my reality, it was over a lifetime away. I would never see that flower again, trapped as I am on a road to nowhere.

Since then it has haunted me; my special friend. I dream of living within its bosom and never having to explain our smiling joy. Life is so much more than we have deigned it to be. We cheat ourselves mightily. That one inspiring, heart-rendering incident changed me forever. Since then I have come to understand the Flower's Dream of harmony with Nature. And I found there's a word for life without harmony: death.