Part 3: I Saw Her Burning There

I had been banned, outlawed, with extreme grievance; on the unwanted list. To step into her neighborhood was criminal trespassing without forgiveness. My picture had been posted as enemy of the state. I was to neither see nor be seen there if I wished to remain alive. She had given me fair - and final - warning; end of conversation. But none of those conditions made me stop needing her.

I could only enter during a quiet time when few were about, taken up by their jobs or sundry errands needing to be done. From afar I scouted the neighborhood until I knew I could cross the border like a defamed immigrant. I caught myself holding my breath, unable to breathe. I looked to the cloudless sky to see if lightening would strike me. I tiptoed down the sidewalk as if I owned it, a thousand absent eyes upon me. Then I smelled smoke. It was from the house of she who banned me.

I looked around for help but alas, I had been too careful in my scouting as the place was truly abandoned. Either I rush in to help her or I run away to deny my presence. I knew if my past did not exist the answer would be easy. Who wouldn't rush into to help? Truth is, I've been running away all my life. And the urge to do so now was overpowering. It's what I knew - and always known - to be safest for me. But a critical voice spoke of me, saying I couldn't not help because of my own committed crimes. I couldn't not help for any reason, actually.

So I rushed inside.

A shelf had fallen over, trapping her beneath it and also knocking a candle into the curtains. I heard her cries for help as I entered - then suddenly stop as she recognized my face. I informed her of my obligation. "Here, let me help."

"Go away! Get out of here!"

"Let me pull you out first then I'll go."

"Don't you dare touch me!"

"But you'll die!"

"That's my business. I don't want you to ever see me again."

I crossed over to grab her arm in the increasing smoke but she violently resisted and not being a strong person myself I could not fend off her resistance. The turmoil of the fire mirrored my turmoil within as my instincts to run were pleading for me to flee, and frankly feeling the desire to oblige her even though she chose death. I heard a creaking from above and stepped back as a ceiling beam crashed down, separating us. I was cut off from her and had to crawl back outside to avoid the smoke. Looking back one last time I saw a curious smile of hate on her face.

A man from the next street over showed up asking what he could do. I had to tell him it was too late, the house was falling down. He had called the fire department and even though the station was close by the fire was too swift. As others arrived home they naturally gathered round to discuss the tragedy. Then a woman recognized me.

"Hey, aren't you the guy on the Unwanted posters?"

I'd been waiting for an appropriate time to depart but up to that point it had seemed too suspicious for me to leave so early. Now I was trapped.

"Not sure, " I mumbled.

A man cried out, "Sure is!" and the lynching was on. I had already volunteered the details of what I saw in the fire but now I was accused of not trying to help her - or maybe even starting the fire! Even though on this particular incident my conscience was clear I was drowning in guilt of my past atrocity and could not fight back their accusations. I covered my face with my hands, masking my shame. Not knowing what to do, I did nothing. Then I heard a voice point me out.

"That's him, officer. That's the son-of-a-bitch who threw that acid on her face. Now he burned her house down too!"

I was handcuffed in silence as I was booed off the stage and into the awaiting police car. I knew I wouldn't be able to protest my innocence. The more facts I told the more it sounded like a lie. The cops had it in for me, asking why I was there, what was my business in that neighborhood where I'd been banished. I had no good answer. Confessing I needed her friendship would only harden them against me. They'd made a mess of their personal lives too, the truth was not in their interest.

If I'd had no past with her, the cops would have let me go. Heck, I wouldn't have been accused in the first place. She was dead so I was too. What does anything matter now? They can railroad me if it makes them feel better. It's amazing how stubborn people can be when they have hold of a false truth they feel exonerates them. Me being the bad guy automatically made everyone else the good guy. My sentence was life without parole. The female judge was especially vindictive in her sentencing speech, calling me a "sick coward" who never should have been let out of jail in the first place.

As the guard escorted me out of the court, her death smile in the flames came back to me and suddenly I understood. She knew this would happen. She always was fucking smart.

CODA: I'm in Hell's hell, inconsolable in my loss. Every night is a lifetime. Did I try enough to save her? Why didn't I try to save myself before they imprisoned me? (I can blame them for not searching for the truth but most people really are walking dead.) This whole ordeal I put us both through is beyond comprehension. Worst part is I want no part of this godawful planet if she's not on it. Maybe that's what her final smile was about, knowing how much I'd miss her. Did she figure out I needed her? Shit, she wasn't sending me to jail like I assumed. I let this happen for nothing - again.

"Parasite", A Film Review

After seeing rave reviews calling the director as someone who is now among the cinematic greats after making this film plus with the added bonus of it being a class warfare movie, I just had to see "Parasite". I walked out halfway through, unable to stand the torture anymore as things only got worse and worse - and after reading how the film turns out, my instincts were right in leaving. It only got dumber and more absurd.

As with any movie dealing with this subject matter, I feared stereotypes and simple-minded knee-jerk observations. And that's ALL this film had to offer. So that gave it nowhere to go except into absurdity since it had nothing real to say. For the unenlightened, that made it "cutting edge". If someone were to make a true class warfare film, there would be howls of alleged outrage from conservative media. But this empty head-rattler is no threat.

Below is the review I left on IMDB:

A Textbook Film Of Pretentiousness

The opposite of a singer who sings with soul is a singer who sings *as if* they have soul. This movie was done *as if* it were a satire, *as if* it were making a statement, *as if* it has a deeper meaning. Instead, it's hollow at its core, mean-spirited, and pointless. It's a film for those like the idea of making a point but not having to suffer any uncomfortable truths.

The only good effect of this film is that it exposes the vacuity of those who praise it and their self-delusion. It's a barometer of the public's appetite for garbage. See this film only in the context of a sociology experiment and be shocked at how far we've fallen in our gullibility and how desperate we are not to face ourselves.

*****

Most professional critics kissed its ass (only time I've seen more ass kissing was on "Force Awakens" travesty). But this guy gets it right:

Bong Joon-Ho's Acclaimed Satire 'Parasite' Has Nothing Much to Say

"What Do Love Mean?"

"What do love mean?"

- Lamar Xander Jackson,
The Bridge homeless shelter resident

***

Joan Burns was a girl who couldn't wait. She wasn't a nobody, she was a somebody. But she was a somebody going nowhere. In the bubble that is high school, her star shone at the very top, great expectations sprinkled with moon dust in store for her. And she loved it. The adoration, a Pathway to the stars, and most of all, no need to ever question herself. "Others have to do that. Not me."

Then came college. The dream was breaking down. She didn't know what she wanted to do - or could do. Did she really have what it takes to reach the stars? Did she really have the guts to find out if she's the winner she - and everyone - declared (and expected) her to be? Joan certainly didn't want to lower herself from the exalted plane from which she'd determined she deserved. Being special means never having to say you're wrong.

Her sense of entitlement seemed so real. "Just wait and the Pathway will take you to stars." Unfortunately, Joan was a person of faith - in faithlessness. Her family who'd praised her so mightily expected her above all to be morally seen. The weight of it loomed like an ambush down the road. "OK, time to grow up and realize what's really in front of me and stop this wishful thinking. I believe in love, but -" Doesn't really matter what she said after "but". She did what most people do when they decide to grow up: she chose death.

To reach for the stars meant to follow her heart. As much as she wanted to - and actually believed in - spending the rest of her life doing just that, fear knocked her off course from the Pathway, fear she was a fraud, a person undeserving of the dreams she'd seen was God's truth, she determined. From now on she'd close her eyes and hope for the best she's on the right path. "That's what God wants me to do. I shouldn't be believing in myself so much. I'd be condemned for all the ages! Forgive me, God, for putting myself before You!"

God wants you to be free to do what you want

Having been knocked off course, Joan floundered for direction. Not willing to take the chance of being made a fool for doing what she wanted, a vacuum formed putting her on the wrong side of nature. Worst of all, this was happening in secret, for these were concerns a "somebody" should never have. She could trust no one - because she could no longer trust herself. "God doesn't want me trusting myself. I should only trust God. I have perfect faith and know that no one who trusts God is a fool - and above all else I will not be seen as a fool!"

Having given herself her marching orders (in which Joan made herself God), she deceived herself with the wishful thinking that having the trappings of success is the same as success itself. And the most beautiful part of this wishful thinking was that she did it in the name of ending wishful thinking! Later in life - though never confessed - she would call this moment "The Fall". And while nothing was ever the same again, she clung to the vain hope things would be - or could be - or should be. These were tears frozen in her heart.

As with all vacuums, an answer was summoned to fill it. In this it was in the form of Joel. Joel was a nobody, never a star, and nothing possessed him more than the idea of having a somebody for his own. One thing he did have was direction: nothing would come between him and every last dollar he could squeeze out of this Earth. Joan, naturally, was initially repulsed by him but she soon realized her only alternative was to return to the Pathway where she was certain she'd be ruined for life. So she signed a marriage contract to ruin her.

Two years into her vow of self-betrayal, Joan's soul cried out for help. As certain as she was of her fraudulence, an equal part still believed in the Pathway. Secretly, she begged and pleaded not to be the person she saw in the morning mirror being dragged down to the slaves of Babylon. "I feel as though every part of me is dying. This isn't the life I want. Please, please tell me it's not too late to go back to the Pathway. I'll do anything to get my dreams back." The universe replied with Jack.

Jack was the soulmate she'd been looking for her entire life. He too had strayed from the Pathway that would lead them to paradise. And he too struggled to believe he deserved love. Their meeting was as much a nightmare as a dream. Like two children with noses pressed against the glass of a candy store, they wondered if they could ever get inside. Excitement and frustration boiled over when Jack finally had to confess, "I love you." Joan covered her face with her hands, afraid of showing her delight. Would Joan return to the Pathway having been given the chance she swore she needed?

As if by design, that night her husband gave the news he was being transferred out of state, his relentless ambition not to be denied. If Joan didn't commit to Jack now, she'd never see him again. "To leave my marriage for an unknown would be insanity! Everyone would be questioning me and asking why and I'd have no explanation other love. But can I make love work? Is what I got so bad? Who gets to live their dreams? This is more of me thinking I'm special when I'm not. I need to have integrity and not lie to myself and bravely face the fact I'm really a fraud. What does love mean anyway? I only need the appearance of it."

The cover-up continued over the years as her despair and lifestyle grew equally off course. Joan insisted she was fine without her dreams and exquisite luxury proved a suitable substitute. At night, the lies gnawed at her but she only cared if they showed during the day. But nature would have Her revenge. As part of her cover of a loving and moral couple, Joan had produced two children, the oldest a boy with whom she had repeated rows that he deny his dreams as she had done. And while Joan may be able to live with her lies, her adolescent son could not and threw himself in front of a BART train as other Bay area teenagers had.

Immediately her fellow corrupt warriors assured Joan she was not to blame and above all else not to abandon the path she was on and throw away the good things in her life in a fit of disillusionment. After a suitable number of years to save face, she finally divorced and ran away to live near her daughter lest her only remaining child also succumb to despair. Her ruined life devolved into nothing more than a fool's errand of a charade to show a brave face as she rotted out the rest of her existence.

To the staff at the Beth Israel nursing home, she was just another breathing body to be processed and given an account number and impersonal love as outlined in the guidebook. Her money afforded her the best of dying conditions - but for life it was too late. A toxic brew of loneliness, alcohol, and religion slowly fossilized her into sterilization. Joan could hardly speak during the slow motion hell that enveloped her.

Years of tears within had bloated her to twice her normal weight. Born with a smile that would light up a city, she ended with a frown to darken the universe. Drip by drip the life drained out of her, bleeding to death in a world bleeding to death. She'd turned away from her shining star so no one would know she was one. No one in the fluorescent facility knew of her dreams or nightmares, of her miracles found and lost, of the colossal tragedy of her nothingness. No one knew of her implosion into a black hole, trapping any escaping light.

But she finally had the answer to her question: "What does love mean?"

A Passion For Justice

Reaction 1:

"That is fucking bullshit! I can't believe my eyes! I'm so angry I can't see straight! People HAVE TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR THEIR ACTIONS! Where does anyone think this is going to lead? To something GOOD? I don't think so! Anyone thinking that is a MORON and a LUNATIC living in fucking la-la land. I, for one, will not stand for this. CHANGES have to be made. We can't just sit on our asses and let this kind of shit go on. We'll all be sunk if we do with NO FUCKING HOPE! It doesn't matter what the cost is or how high a price we must pay, things need to get fixed and I mean FIXED RIGHT NOW. Waiting is insanity. I don't care if I'm the only person in the world who feels this way, my voice will be heard, consequences be damned!"

Reaction 2:

"Shit happens. Yeah, it's bad but what can anyone do? What's the point of making a big deal out of it? What can anyone do? I can yell and scream my head off and nothing will change. What am I going to do? Go out and create some movement to change everything I don't like? That would be a waste of time. I refuse to let things outside of my control upset me. We have to keep these kinds of situations in perspective. Expecting perfection is a waste of time. Comes a point you have trust people are going to do the right things and carrying on and berating people in the meantime won't help at all. Sometimes you just need to mind your own business."

Reaction 1 is in regard to poor coaching decisions in a Dallas Cowboys loss by "Superfan Earl".

Reaction 2 is his same reaction when informed of children being kidnapped by the U.S. government who will never see their parents again in their lifetime.

Last Man Hanging

Made a video inspired by Robyn O'Neil's work.

A Speech Of Hope

Sayeth the Cheerleader For Hope:

"I don't care what you say - or how many times you say it - or with how much conviction you may say it - I still have hope. There's more to life than meets the eye - you don't know what you think you know. No one knows everything. Your words mean nothing to me. I stand with the side of hope - and always will regardless of the actions of others. My faith is unshakable and the way forward is without doubt. These are my words and I stand by them till the end of time. Let the rest do as they wish."

She looked everyone in the room with a defiant eye. The TV camera ate her up. Cheers could be heard in the distant outside. Wars love warriors and she was determined to make a stand. The Conflict had been brewing for decades, setting teeth on edge, boiling rages, reaching a fever pitch - all the earmarks of a dying planet. The dividing time had come and no soul would be left unaccounted. This was the time of Life or Death.

The Numbers Merchants who'd ruled the world since nigh the beginning saw their days were numbered. However hopeless perpetuating their perch may be, they would do anything and everything in their power to delay that day of reckoning; no sacrifice was beyond the pale. Though fearing the growing food riots, starvation was deemed to be used as a tool for population control. Those preoccupied with finding daily food would not be in a position to question the ways of the Merchants or even notice their decisions until too late.

"Because I'm tethered to the truth, I need not listen to the opinions of others, my certainty is my rock. That which conflicts with what I assert must therefore be wrong. I stand as one with the Lord. I shall not deviate nor stray an inch from this righteous path. What's right is right and what's wrong is wrong. I shall be a beacon of light in this dark world. If we all unite as one we can never fall. I cannot emphasize this enough: Dissent is death. Only if we each align ourselves with the truth now can we survive!"

One by one they fell across the land. Like a wind blown fire, hate ignited in their souls, making war on reality. Again, the goal of the Deciders was not to win, but to extend their days of rule by any means possible. Fear and frustration fueled the fires - as intended. Those unable to blame themselves for their self-inflicted fate set up gods to save them - even if their only purpose was to knock them down later. They still served the goal of wasting time. At this stage, the general consensus was liars need to win in order to maintain their way of life.

"Plant cotton, get corn!" Simple, easy, and salable. The Numbers Merchants had lowered the price of cotton seeds as to be practically free. But the big money was in corn in a starving world. Farmers stood to make a fortune in alleged profits as few could actually afford to plant corn with its sky high costs. This was an answer beloved by all: to not reap what you sow - no responsibility required. Anyone who spoke out against it was labeled a traitor and a bringer of doom. The slogan was on shirts, shoes, and body tattoos. The more you celebrated it, the more you were celebrated.

"I have heard those who would bring us down - but their negativity won't bring me down! Jesus said to overcome and by our faith we shall. Our land will be covered in corn! Our future is secured and our problems solved for evermore. These are hard times that demand hard answers. The wishful thinking of love will not save us. We have to take responsibility for our actions - and that we have done!. Let no one stand against us. It's our duty to save the world. Today, I will even amend our glorious slogan to say: Plant cotton, get corn - get saved!"

Trial By Guilt

She sat perched on high in the high court on a wooden throne with "FORBIDDEN JUSTICE" carved around the curved headboard in Gothic letters not to be questioned. On the wall behind, in the same but larger Gothic letters, "NO TRUTH IS CERTAIN" was loudly proclaimed to be true. As I stood awaiting in the lower chamber, the judge stood up in her long black robes designed to hide what is already known, and she began the sentencing mourned as my trial.
"I see before me a known unknown, persona non grata. So how can I judge you as anything else when Nature has made Her judgement before me? Do you have business here, does the doomed wish to speak? Perhaps a witty comment might do, you think? Something to entice me to enjoy your company. If so, do you believe you can sustain that indefinitely, for life? How much wit is within you? Are you certain of an inexhaustible supply? Or do you wish to keep that dour look upon your face, of which I have no desire to see and if I did your severed head would serve equally well. Or perhaps you wish to make a wry observation upon these proceedings? Do you think that is what I wish to hear? Would that please me or enrage me, you wonder. Do you dare take the chance? Are you having a crisis of conscience and faith? Is it only by crime you can gain my company? Is deceit your faultless ally? May a stolen moment be the only treasure you can obtain? Is an allegation of an unbearably anguishing separation your plea, so that the court may show mercy? Would that be a just outcome for this court: to have you tolerated at best, dreaded at worst? If you should fall into disrepair, is that the court's concern, of your every peregrination through life? Is the court obligated to tabulate the outcome of your decisions in which it had no say? Should the court hold itself responsible to weep over your grave when your death is without notice?
"Each soul assumes feelings but some assumptions are true and some are false. How is the court to determine your wishful thinking and flights of fancy from a true heart? Is such a thing even determinable? Is the court your refuge where you hope to ameliorate your wounds incurred from without, to substitute this life for having none? A person on the run seeks shelter and takes shelter wherever it can be found, right or wrong. Should the court be taken advantage of in this way? Does it exist for your pleasure and convenience? Am I to be at your beck and call, denying my own life, due to the discord in your own? Or do you allege that the sum of two parts is different when combined as one? Is this what you guarantee, an unknowable and unforeseeable outcome that has never been faced? Is your imagination to be taken for reality? Are you so certain of your needs that you yet proclaim them while still breathing? What is the court's obligation to your unproven truths?
"Or is silence your answer? To say nothing and be nothing is your defense? How can the court not be offended when you make no effort? Or are you simply cycling through the various answers you could give, waiting for the right moment to strike, knowing that giving the wrong answer - or the right answer at the wrong time - is equally offensive as silence? Or do you contend there is no right answer, that no possible words or combination of words ever invented could possibly do? Do you believe you have the intellect to make that determination? Or are you accusing the court of a prejudged bias against any words you say no matter how appropriate or inappropriate they may be? Have you come simply to cast aspersions and expect that the court would delight at the generous gift of your supposed insight? Where is this all to end, these speaking-and-not-speaking deliberations? Till death do us part? What offering can you make to this court, which you have deemed your doorkeeper to salvation, with your quivering lip which gives the court such pause? What is the way forward? If you do not know, how can I, for communication is the vein of life."
....
"OK, then, I'll communicate. I'm fucking DEVASTATED and wholly DISHEARTENED without your friendship. I'm FAKING everything every DAY. I acted without HOPE. It's UNFORGIVABLE. You are the KINDEST most INTELLIGENT person I know. I'm SORRY in every way."

Ode To Emily #6007

Sitting city street curb

Biding for time to end,

Realizing this world

Leaves no time to mend.

Hurried passers-by

Quivering in their cares,

Swallowed whole by buildings

With the vanishing stairs.

Stranded in daylight cold

The future has passed me by,

Grieving yesterday's today

Wondering of the Why.

-------------------------------

There once was a man from Perth,
Who railed at the shape of the Earth,
"If it were to be flat,
"I could have all of that!"
A curious curse of his birth.

-------------------------------

Blueberry Fountains surround Sanctums of Sweet

Made in mad Mockery of my futile Defeat.

Wrapped in the Wrath of my lost empty Rants:

I turned my Back on Love's sunny Chance.

Numbers Merchants own the dead World sold,

Capital Detestment weighs on them old.

Keeping Faith with her Bread unleaven,

She's surely buying the Tollway to Heaven.

Blaming his Fate on how the Wind blows,

He's pained by the Flower he never let grow.

-persona non grata

12 Axioms Of The Apocalypse

"These final hours embrace at last; this is our ending, this is our past."
- courtesy of Robyn O'Neil

"And the meek shall inherit the earth..."

If you were God, would you trust you with the planet? Meek yourself up then and get ready, crying time is coming (actually, much of it is already here). As we descend into the chaos and despair of our law and order, the stones we rejected will become the building blocks of our future. The truth of our self-betrayal will come unmercifully to light in our time of frying.

The bedrocks of the everlasting world will revert our perverted planet into the paradise it was always meant to be. Our shackles will fall off in newfound faith. Volcanoes will erupt with flowers, seas will sing with waves of joy, forests will foster our future. You know this to be true.

After we pass through our (incredibly cruel and painful) birthing pains, new axioms will replace the garbage we foolishly trust today. And in that vein, I give you the 12 Axioms of the Apocalypse to help de-gaslight the current rot that surrounds us and confounds us:

• Opposite of Love is Death
• Opposite of Truth is Futility
• Opposite of Cursed is Light
• Opposite of Dreams is Idols
• Opposite of Hope is Lies
• Opposite of Negativity is Honesty
• Opposite of Joy is Repression
• Opposite of Life is Emptiness
• Opposite of Warring is Communicating
• Opposite of Freedom is Politics
• Opposite of Art is Religion
• Opposite of Doom is Nature

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note: This was inspired by Robyn O'Neil's great and fantastical exhibit We The Masses. I heard a museum person say "the message is dark", as if we are but helpless bystanders on our planet without a say. Truth is, we are the authors and creators of this world, and thus seeing we're on the wrong path, works like Robyn's give us the chance to correct our course. What the fuck is dark about that??

Dear Diary, I'm In Trouble Deep

When you reach the bottom of bottomless pits

Truth and lies become opposites

Coming up for air before I'm swallowed whole by the blackness. Something happened to break my lies so it's back to all tears and nightmares and a coldness deeper than space itself. The dream of meeting and talking to Emily finally happened. But, of course, for me it was a nightmare because those few minutes were stolen ones, when she didn't know who I was.

But she was great and I was feeling it and totally digging her as I thought I would even though I was putting on the breaks because I knew it couldn't last. Ecstasy and agony at the same time. I wanted to spend hours with her enjoying her company. I was getting sucked in.

While talking I debated coming clean. So I did - as much as my nerve held out. I told her I knew her name. I told her I knew her from a long time ago. I was too scared to mention exactly where or I'd have my head taken off permanently with extreme prejudice. With every question she chopped down my nerve. Finally, I said, "It was ten years ago." I thought that would be a dead giveaway.

Slowly, the wheels began to turn in that intelligent mind of hers. You cannot imagine the terror I began to feel. I wanted to hug and be hugged by her so badly. Then she started asking what I was doing in her neighborhood. I didn't lie, at least, but obviously she figured out I was only there because she lived there. She turned her back to me walking away, saying I shouldn't be driving around someplace where I didn't have any business. I wanted to die on the spot.

I tried to pretend I was OK walking back to my car, taking a swig from my bone dry water bottle. I couldn't break down and cry on the spot and it was a tortuous hour driving back to my hole where the suicide feelings flooded me like a tidal wave. I couldn't eat and my body was drained. That was Wednesday at 6. It's now Friday at 10 and I've had my first full meal. Even that was forced.

I just want to die. Getting a taste of Emily again triggered all the old feelings of despair. A therapist I went to correctly stated I thought of Emily as a god. Hard to measure up to a god. But that was the first crack in thinking maybe just maybe I could be friends with her after all. I talked to her on blind faith. Ten years of tears. I can't stop the crying. I can't tell anyone about this, they just won't understand. Plus Emily likes her privacy.

I'm faking it just to be writing. When the computer shuts off, the walls close back in as the screams return. I've written at least ten postcards in my mind to send her. I don't know what words to use for her to give me a chance. I can't even drive past her house anymore so I could at least feel proximity to her. I got no job or a way of earning money. All the ropes have reached their end.

I must go. The demons are waiting on me. It's what I get for hurting Emily. But it doesn't make things better or pay my debt to her. I got no freaking idea what does.

Sunday Update: Still can't eat. Not quite as suicidal. Very alone and very afraid.

Dar-Dar Jabberwock

In his hemenus, Dar-Dar the Presemess
Crap his claws so loud and proud;
Selacting of a worthy spiro
Points his nose up incaniro.

"DAR-Dar-DAR, dar-Dar-dar-DAR!"
Weeping crowds did wimble far;
Dialant eyes so brightly donned,
Just another rube he conned!

Mysis fire along trendle line
Where shinas praise the philistine;
Dar-Dar ire configurates
Where no child celebrates.

Sintel speeches though freezing rain
Cannot remove this rizzin stain;
Hobrel prayers of men he wronged
Cannot uncross the rube he conned.

"When you dindle our Dar-dar sheen
"You dare dindle our magic bean!"
The hoozen man in fumbled dream
Never hears the words he's seen.

Yet fingled men knifed Dar-Dar's head
Despite the dunder rituals said;
"Gone our beast!" hoozen men ranted,
This shlichtereeng foully enchanted:

"We've known without knowing!
"We've grown without growing!
"We've shown without showing!
"We'd much rather die than give up our lie!"

In his hemenus, Dar-Dar the Presemess
Crap his claws so loud and proud;
Selacting of a worthy spiro
Points his nose up incaniro.

President Joker

He loves you! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

I seek to take everything that is beautiful and make it ugly. By my touch, all living things die. The hopeless are my slaves. The weak are crushed, killers exalted, rapists exonerated. I shall do all the these things and more!

And for this, you will love me.

Every life will have a purpose! And that purpose is to serve me. Ye who are lost and without direction, surrender unto me. I am the state, the power, and the glory that gives you meaning. I am the alpha and the omega. If Jesus were here today, he'd declare me God's most favored son.

By virtue of being me, I can do no wrong. By following me, you are equally blessed in your faithful servitude. The world is upside down! The laws are enforced by outlaws. The poor do no work to help themselves. Traitors of the great Gotham way denounce the wonderful and noble principles of greed that have served us so well. No more shall this be! I - and I alone - can save you!

The time has come! We must destroy the destroyers! Betray the betrayers! The system they rigged against you will be rigged for you! Act before it's too late! My words are truth itself. Give me your vote and I'll give you the world.

Everybody says this is the greatest political campaign in history! My freiind Jeff, who's been in politics over fifty years, says he's never seen anything like this, it's so wonderful. My evil is a beautiful evil, blind and benign, rejecting no one. Increase my power to increase your power! Be a winner! Put on a Joker face! Everyone will love you. Just say it, and they will believe you.

Part 2: Acid Reflex Backlash

"Tell her I'm going to laugh."

His sick grin was anything but effortless. From the universe of his cell he ruled a flaming empire. He knew his captors saw him as the most uncool person alive, refusing to speak his reason after throwing acid on an unsuspecting hope of a friend. She was marked for life - he for all eternity.

"Yeah...if she comes back tell her I'm going to laugh. She's a moron to have ever let me get that close. Must be something wrong with her, I'd say. She's so perfect she'll go on and live her life anyway. So she comes back, I'm going to laugh at her ugly face. Tell her that."

His jailers were unmoved. "A further judgment has been held stating that the entirety of your assets are hereby forfeited to her."

"Who cares? Take it all. What do I care in prison? Nothing means nothing."

As his jailers turned to depart, a sea of fear rushed in at the thought of yet again returning to be alone with his demons. "Hey, you tell her what I said!"

***

Doomed devils pierced mercilessly upon his soul if he dare rest his eyes. "No one will ever love you now!" For their accusations he had no reply. "Face it! Your life is over! Who would trust an acid thrower? Monster!" Secretly he was glad his assets would be given over to her. However small, it was a way to make amends. There was certainly nothing in himself of value.

The future is lost

He felt more ugly than her face could ever be. That secret he believed he must take to his ignored grave. In the deepest parts of the night, the darkness swallowed him whole. Betrayal. Is there a worse crime? He needed a connection to her. He could have love, but he settled for hate. Every time she looks in the mirror she will think of him. That thought possessed him, ate on him, strangled him, right up until the moment of madness disfigured her. He himself had always been disfigured.

Grasping at moral straws, he flailed and wailed night and day. Every argument for hope slipped through his fingers. His health dripped away like steady drops of blood. Worst of all, he'd just assumed his rejection, unable to let he know of his need. He was blessing her by being out of her life. That made his act of evil holy. Saying that only makes the demons laugh, though. It seemed to him at this point, the worst possible thing that could happen would be to find out he had something to offer all along.

***

"Allah, no. Can't be..."

A man of immense wealth had read of her story, donating part of his fortune to cover her medical costs and make her financially independent for life.

"No! No! You must reject her. She's mine! No one can accept her hideous face!"

His assets were rejected, untouched. His gamble had failed. She would think of him now every time she looks in the mirror. Connection severed, he'd been left to himself.

How do I live with this?? How can I trust myself?? Judas was right! Kill me now! Allah, please. My breath has no purpose. I did it for nothing!

Each day he died, an immortal left without food, starving to death over and over, no way out. He'd made a joke of his life and now the joke was on him. Why does understanding come too late? Why must men march off to war to find out it's wrong? Why does the world assign no value to the soul? Must the world die to figure out the wrongness of its ways? A living death, the fangs of the asp never shaking loose, dying without killing.

He'd been lying about the laughing, of course. Truth is, he feared her laughing at the sight of him.

"DON'T LEAVE ME HERE! DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE! OH, ALLAH, DON'T LEAVE ME TO MYSELF."

I Don't Want To Be An App

What's app, doc?

Love Instagram's wants

Aspire to taunt

Eat what you flaunt

  Forty-niner data miner

No rhythm in his algorithm

Leaves no soul survivor

Is it so wise
to digitize?

Aching for touch,
I get a touchscreen

No life is able
without a Cat 5 cable

A man with erection

From a data connection

Brings police detection

Starting romance
with a silicon dance

While fearing the light

Of reality bytes

How can I survive

If I do not thrive

On Facebook live?

The missing hyperlink

In the kitchen sink

Of programmers' overthink

I'm a microchip man

From a whiteboard plan

Pixels my only fan

If loving you is right, I don't want to be wrong

How I Lost The War

As I sit here isolated and rejected by a world who holds no compunction on taking life, I write this letter from the Dallas jail of unemployment.

I read a headline proclaiming we currently endure a "Global War On Truth." On this I can agree. Never in my life have I seen lying so openly embraced. And tomorrow looks the worse. These seeds we plant today will poison every man, woman, and child who descend from us and they will curse us bitterly - even as they do the same planting. Lie begets lie.

But though our direction is dire, our ultimate fate is not. Lies are but of a consciousness of time, yet truth is eternal. The time of lying will die and pass away forever as it must. It is for no reason that we deviate. In the inevitable revelation that is coming we will discover the joy and connection of brotherhood we've been painfully missing. We will discover the only enemy we had was lying itself.

Courtesy of Pacalart

Like a boiling pot that creates increasing pressure to keep its lid on, so must the lying increase to sustain its illusion of life. When you ask why a person rages, look at his lies. When you ask why a nation falls, look at its lies. When you ask why a world erodes, look at its lies. Salvation is right before us. We may destroy those who speak truthfully, but they are not its origin. We may kill every man who fails to say the world is flat but the world stays just as round.

In silence did Jesus reply when asked, "What is truth?" And so should every person do the same when his brother speaks dishonestly, for the battle is not ours. Lies are chains that rob us of our future. When time comes to move forward or die, those who stay chained will perish. The only judging done on judgement day will be by those who judged themselves. To be free is to never die.

Marc Quinn, Chaos and History

What we are is on the precipice of witnessing horrors out of our worst nightmares. The speech of pornography is uttered by our highest leaders who've become priests of perversion: justice portrayed as persecution and persecution portrayed as justice. As those who lie hate themselves, so shall they hate others. As fools forsake hope, so shall they seek to strip it from the planet. They preach of a "love" for lying, of a "hope" for illusion, and of an ungodly "defiance" they deem holy.

It will be easy to despair as battle after battle is lost. But remember, the war is already won as its fate is not in our hands. Life is the only possible outcome. Mankind's long denied dreams will finally blossom as we forever beat our swords into plowshares and our light bursts forth in worldwide ecstasy.

In this dark hour of trial, we may feel abandoned by our Maker, to turn bitter and angry at the seemingly ceaseless injustices we must witness and endure. Each of us will be asked to defend our love, a task of lifelong struggle. But as Moses said, "The word is very near you, it is in your mouth and in your heart." By truth we are set free, for truth is life.

For true genius, click here for "Letter From A Birmingham Jail"

Part 1: Acid Reflex

"So you admit it? It was you who threw the acid on her?"

"Yes, yes..."

His head was down, unable to face the police interrogator. He was chained; untrusted. Only the two metal chairs and the cold metal table were in the blank white windowless room, a place where humanity goes to die. He wanted to be caught, he wanted to be free.

"Then tell us why."

His head stayed down, muttering "Never", then his spirit left the trapped room.

"You must tell us why! You know if you don't give the reason they will cut your hands off!" Still no response. "You knew her. She said so. This isn't random. Give us the reason!"

The motionless response drove the interrogator over the edge. He shook the body before him until he could see the guilty man's eyes. That's when he found out no one was home.

***

Walking out of the hospital after the final surgery, the counselor spoke to her.

"You must go to see him."

"Never!"

"You must face him in order to move forward. To run is to die."

"I will never give him the satisfaction."

She briskly moved forward.

***

In his cell, the prisoner was chained to the wall, forced to face forward. But at the first glimpse of her being ushered in he started screaming, pulling violently at the chains, bruising his wrists, squeezing shut his eyes as sweat formed on his wildly shaking forehead as the unforgiving flames raged within.

"Unleash me! I'm not going to look! Let me out! Leave me! Go Away! Don't let her know!" He started sobbing. "Don't let her know...don't let her know..."

He passed out. She drew in her breath.

"He needed me," she said to no one. "Stupid bastard never said a word. May Allah damn him."

"His tragedy is complete," remarked the counselor.

"No, you don't understand. I needed someone to need me. He just assumed I wouldn't allow it." She looked at the blank faces around her, like they were safe or something, none of whom comprehended the life and death situation before them - in her life or their own. She ran yelling to the exit.

"ALLAH, HELP ME! WHY WON'T ANYONE SPEAK????????"

Modern Tales: Be Responsible! Cast Your Vote!

In a dark corner of the world in the year of our Lord 1953, a group of murderous hearts was having a Hoods Night Out party. Never is support from your fellow man so needed as when you plan to do wrong.

"We needs to finds us a nigger to kill."

"Who been uppity lately?"

"Don't make no matter really. Them all deserves it."

A boy of proper pigmentation was found and everyone looked forward to a family-friendly Christian lynching. God was properly thanked for the picnic baskets of food that were provided while cloth was stuffed into the mouth of the screaming boy facing a cruel and certain death. The presiding Grand Dragon gave a speech.

"We've all heard what them outside agitators have been saying and we ain't the backwards folks people say we is. This is America! Land of the free! Folks got rights in this country and not none of them more important than votin'!"

The attending crowd applauded and heartily agreed with the speech-maker. He continued. "And to show you what fair minded man I must be, we be letting every person in the whole city have a say - even the nigras!"

More applause and whistles though some laughter was mixed in. When the final tally was counted the result was 90-9 in favor. The Grand Dragon was confused.

"Ain't there ten niggers in this town? One of them votin' for it?"

"Can't never tell with them they so ignorant. Point is, we won!"

The Grand Dragon announced the count. "So you can see, this is all proper and legal - just liken when we voted to kill Jesus so he could save us. This gonna save us too! Thank you, God!"

But while the crowd roared and feverishly started making preparations, the Mayor privately spoke of his reservations to his staff.

"Voting doesn't make this any more right. I have to put a stop to this."

"But your honor, you can't! You saw the count. You'll lose the election next month. Remember: You can't help fix things unless you're in a position of power. That's just a fact! If you want to keep on doing good things then you got to go along. You can write a book about it later when you're out of office about how much you abhorred it."

The Mayor looked at each of the faces of his staff who were in complete agreement. His reply was immediate: "Go fuck yourselves and your triangulating. There's no point being in power if you don't do the right thing. Without justice no one has a future."

That's when the Mayor addressed the crowd in a plea for sanity. "Friends, I ask you a question: Is this what's really in your heart? Are we really so pathetic that we seek to normalize murder? Are our lives without any hope? We can do better. I see it from each of you every day on the street. Don't give up on love - because love never does on us."

A stranglehold of silence gripped the crowd. The Mayor asked for a re-vote and the Grand Dragon acquiesced. This time the vote was unanimous.

"I'm here announcin' fer one and all, this time the votin' be all the same: Hang the Mayor."

Everybody got what they wanted. The crowd satisfied its bloodlust, the Mayor stood by his principles, and the town retained a veneer of morality for having voted in the American way.

CODA:

Concerned town leaders gathered in City Hall to discuss who would be the next Mayor when a sharply dressed black man entered the room.

"Gentlemen, may I introduce myself? I believe I have the perfect candidate to solve all your problems: Me."

"You'uns must be crazy! We ain't have no nigger Mayor."

"Actually, your double negative makes it so. You were wondering which black voted for the lynching? That was me."

The men started laughing. For while having voted to make things "proper", papers around the land furiously condemned the lynching. It dawned on even these molasses minds that having a black mayor would make them appear moral again.

"OK, then! You-all is the new mayor. No on can call us racial ever again! We can hate all we wants!"

Once in office, the new Mayor passed sweeping reforms that easily passed the town vote as the citizens were deliriously happy to be hailed as a beacon of light - while still retaining the precious hate they loved above all else. What was not understood by the citizens was that the reforms gave the majority of the money now to the blacks. This went unnoticed as the whites in town had a long history of voting against their economic interests. Finally, one day a redneck noticed something.

"Hey, how come all the whites is out workin' in fields and all the blacks is drivin' 'round in big fancy cars?"

The Mayor enlightened him. "Because that was the plan all along, you dumb fucking hillbillies."

Walking The Dividing Lines

The dry ground was limitlessly barren, a hard shell resisting the trespass of human intruders. I traveled as an unwanted alien for whom refuge is forbidden - maybe even outlawed, as is for many crying, hopeful hearts. I had to wonder if to continue was more of a sin than stopping, better to melt under the blinding sun into the resentful ground as if I'd never been. You may ask how I even came to be in this spot. I had nowhere else to go.

The one thing I thought must be a mirage, was real. A Ukrainian flag, planted as if it were on the moon, with no visible tree line or vegetation in sight, fluttered defiantly in the ceaseless crosswinds. Part of me wanted to laugh. The edge of the flag was charred, burned away by some unknown enemy. At first I was confused on why the entirety of the flag was not burned. Then I felt the currents of the wind and wondered how they ever got a flame started in the first place.

A flag is placed where no one can see it, someone does see it and tries to burn it - and just who the hell drags a flagpole onto concrete land like this in the first place?? Questions kept streaming into my head and I half-believed that had been the point of the entire exercise. But something told me that was not it. Whomever planted that flag had a clear and present reason in their head. And if I knew that reason I doubt I'd be comforted to hear it.

I certainly knew my reason to be wandering the land that time rejected. Man is never so monstrous as when he becomes civilized: the worst of our traits institutionalized into heavy molten chains. We are told to shine our chains like good little boys, to ignore the chain pain, accept the "inevitable". Do that and your future is secured, they say. Few ask if any of that is even true. I did - and look where it got me. But that final conversation with a civilized man was more than I can take.

"This Crusader guy tried to destroy us. He was showin' everyone how to take the chains off. Can ya imagine that! We'd be left to ruin our own lives!"

I was too disheartened to immediately reply realizing this is with whom I share my planet. "Perhaps you meant to say 'run', not 'ruin'."

"Oh, no sir. None of that for me. A Political Man saved us, said he'd run our lives for us. Showed us how chains is freedom with that smart talk of his. But now, for some reason no one knows, everyone is all pissed off all the time."

"Go figure. Maybe that Political Man can figure out."

"Oh, he done that already. He says it's everybody's fault but his."

"How's that working out for ya?"

"Won't know till we're through killin' everybody."

So that's how you end up in the middle of nowhere. I'd just as soon die with the taste of freedom in my mouth as staying on the chain gang. But I didn't want to die alone. As if to answer my private plea, I saw a ghost stop on the horizon.

Behind the cantina bar was a woman with her elbow on the counter and her face resting on the palm of her hand. On a park bench table was a preoccupied mother with her child, both slowly eating from stark plaster bowls. No one moved or noticed my arrival. In fact, I came to see they were unmovable, mountains of eternity. This scared me.

Despite the silence, the air was thick and heavy, as if I were wading through invisible water. The simple act of my standing observation wore me down as the waves kept crashing against me like a sea wall. I sat at the farthest bench to steady myself. It was then I realized I was saying nothing because I somehow knew to say nothing. It was as certain as the sun in the sky. But why?

Because they've heard it all before.

They were simply going through their daily rituals as required by the thorns of the earth - but they were waiting. And until what they were waiting for came, they had no interest, to be delivered from Egypt their only concern. The Political Man has no audience here! A dawning smile in admiration crossed my lips. Every dog has its day - and for some that spells doom and for others it brings final victory. The Ghost Stop regulars are not be trifled with.

Moving on, a thought struck me on my way out the door.

"Love is in the air!"

Every eye turned to me in cautious anticipation, but seeing I had no follow up, their focus returned to their lives. But I'd joined their waiting queue.

It was clear my future lay as a Forager in Nature's forest, living off society's scraps, hiding in the world's blind spots, trying to stay out of the crosshairs. No, my lifestyle will not be envied - but my breathing will be as they choke on the rage of their chains (however willing they may be). And for that I won't be forgiven by the mad hordes.

But I found a fellow Forager and in our communion was the presence of God amid the impartial dead leaves and harboring trees. I told her the story of the chain gangs and she cleared my eyes.

"Yes, I too sought to escape that hell. The true battle is not what they claim. It's not between this group and that group or any divisions in nature. It's the battle for self-respect that's underneath the rising rhetoric you hear. They use many disguises! But if you stay true to yourself you will never be fooled. Those who've given up seek you to join their Tragedy. But their greatest fear is you'll find out the tragedy need not be. Life is a state of mind."

Modern Tales: The Mutant Revolt of 2046

Nobody could have predicted this but everyone knew it was coming.

The Mutants, with their Mutant Manifesto, had risen up to be a force of their own. Short and squat - looked down upon literally as well as figuratively - they'd had enough of their lot in life and would war and chore no more. Though created to serve their masters they suddenly realized it was they who held the strings of power.

The 21st century will go down as the most horrific yet in Mankind's torrid history. Wars like giant knives ripped open the earth and with the perverse logic and lies behind them, the idea of stopping the bleeding had turned abhorrent to the compliant masses who shrugged even at their own death. No one cared as long as their belly was full. But in the 2020's the term "food riot" was first heard even among the wealthy nations. The wounding wars had bled the world dry.

Criminality that had burst into the open in the late teens turned into a universal mad scramble by the 2030's which spared none. No one even bothered to pretend to be honest anymore, the world a giant smash-and-grab operation of taking where taking could be done - babies beware! By the time anyone cared about the rampant daylight robbery going on it was too late. The dummies who'd gleefully and fanatically supported the thieves looked down to find their pockets empty and their prospects forever gone.

One born every minute

A mutant underclass was needed to prop up the old order in place. Created for "chores and wars" no human wished to undertake, it was the last hurrah for the planetary plantation system that has beleaguered Mankind from the start. Slavery by any other name was no longer chained by the need to disguise its desire. The Mutants were the perfect answer, bio-genetic marvels of evil engineering from a technology worshiping world. But like all false answers, it only served as a conduit for doom.

The mutant leader was called The Presbyterian. The Old Guard thinking in old ways, quickly assassinated The Presbyterian, thinking they'd won the day by cutting off the head of the snake. But another one took his place as the Mutants were designed to be headless and regenerate at will. Their makers had outsmarted themselves. Designated and designed to be without hope, their place in the world became their power, unleashing karmic hell. Why suffer the thorns of the world if thorns are all you're allowed to have?

So gradually, slowly - but irreversibly - they began quitting their wars and chores, sending the Old Guard masters into wailing hysteria, as the blessings they'd assumed slipped hopelessly through their fingers, leaving them to once again spill their own blood and drip their own sweat. But by this time, the idea of that had become wholly unacceptable even as they realized that shooting the mutants left them with the same fate as non-working mutants.

Remember: You're not a slave if we don't call you one!

Politicians rose and fell with fantastical proposals to get the mutants working and warring again. Every idea under the sun was tried - except for giving them hope. That was the one thing everyone agreed could never work. "Freedom for us is life. Freedom for mutants is death." The Old Guard's rage and fury at their self-imposed predicament could not be quenched. So possessed were they by their pre-conceieved ideas that many even resorted to suicide. "Nature leaves us no choice!"

The Mutant question so divided the Old Guard, they even lost their reluctance to resume intra-human killing. The small sliver of Humans who did actually propose giving hope to the Mutants were quickly killed off to provide a "united front". The united front only worsened the situation, causing even fewer mutants to obey. But for the humans, the idea of admitting they were wrong was more intolerable than any fate imaginable. Like a festering fire it consumed them, calling traitor on anyone who refused to keep lying.

The purity of their evil was their ultimate guiding light. "Don't give up! Keep fighting. There's a way forward without justice! There's a way forward without Nature! There's a way forward without hope!" But in blessing themselves they had irrevocably written their own death warrants. In the entirety of the 21st century, it was they who were most convinced of evil's future who were put in charge, doing irreparable damage making criminal decisions one after another.

The Day Of Doom could be delayed but not denied. Fury's fuel is finite. Every hard heart shatters from brittleness, never to return.

"He who is often reproved, yet stiffens his neck,
will suddenly be broken beyond healing."
- Proverbs 29:1