Monday, March 3, 2014

All is done

All is done

Re-write your life
Like a cheaply written re-run

Want it
Need it
Fuck it
Buy it
End it
End it

Start, push play, now begin.

Push it, Push it, and Push it again
Black light, trip light, free for all

Push it, Push it, and Push it again
Go ahead and
Fuck my lovely stripping friend

Moutain of ego
Harvest Unicorns for horn
Children destroy the new world religion
Atomic play-wright

God-word-whisper-weapon
Do you know my words begin detonation
Perfect imperfection
Single stroke
When my silence strikes
Listen for the mouths begin to choke

Download, Upload
Search for your soul online
Beast bar code
Stamp your soul
follow in time

Frantic frezy
World leaders insane
Sexual Impropiety
Make the slaves bow down to money

Worship all these dollar bills
Buy all you want
You whore of cheap pain for thrills

Worhip all these dollar bills
Buy all you want
Buy in when you sold out
Your lie is the truth that kills you

When you meet yourself
Kill your online double
When you meet yourself
Trouble tracks you online

This is a hole
This is your face
This is the button
Push it until you
Look like you taste

Let us hope it is sweet and not a waste

One more re-run
The collective herd runs and hides
Figure heads speak in lies
Destroy your soul
All is done

...She left me in Death

...she left me yearning
the desire a churning
No butter but the bread is burning
Drink gone
Glass in my hand
Screaming from my loins
What un-natural demands!!!

...she left me wanting
A chase all upon the bed
Her lips stroking the lips upon my head
She liked cats as much as I liked cats too
In bold print letters next to her spats
The alternate name for cats is what it said
A smoothly shaven critter as smooth golden led
I always liked those black-laced garments
Beneath her, unbound, moan-filled-moments

...she left me believing
Two bodies unadorned can become a dream revealing
Clothes are nothing more than instruments for deceiving
Passion can smolder so intensely
Each second more I become a man immensely
Embers left in my un-worn wears
More Holy than un-natural tears
And, this is not a grimace
But a wicked grin of delightful smile
With tongue extended, she coo's "Come, stay for a while."

...she left me in awe
How could such beauty come to be
How could such beauty ever want me
How could such beauty become my all
How could such beauty upon knees make you fall
How could she ever be any other way
Speechless with words to speak and to say
Horizontally suspended while she doth sway
Eyes and toes curl to the spoken sound of, "Yay!"
This entire poem is entirely true
All that happened in the past of a yonder blue
Laugh if you want, because she would too
A happy soul she was

...she left me in death
A beautiful but tragic day it came
A phone call from a friend, a bitter command
A word of death came across the line
A love that loved me had crossed in time
A love that I will never know again
A love that made all love come to an end
I slept at her grave after burial that night
Purple flowers left by my head
Her spector passed in sight
Ghost lips upon my soul
Loosing all control
Lost, the toll

Til this day I mourn the loss
Til this day I mourn the name
Til this day I mourn the change
Til this day into eternal night
Til this day, I await my soul to light, away

The only love that ever truly loved me and I did not know it
Until the end, I felt only feeling when death compelled me to show it
Forever more, I wonder if the love would have lived would I have had
The chance to grow it, but death has a way of ending all before we can
have the chance to breath in the flow of it.

...she left me in Death
Believe it or not, her name was Love.

Female Gothique

No, I will not thwart you
Well, maybe, perhaps
Being so excited can make your mind lapse
Your dynamics upon which my canon
resides, the resignation a gift
If there is high, then my dear, your love
Does more than lift
Of infinite moment, my back arches erect
The limits of your bliss beyond a metric

Yes, I enjoy my masculinity
For you become the fantasy
As we fight for dominance
This way forward towards prominence
It is your Victorian that I want
Nothing so flacid as we make
A hard temporal shift
I love the way you think
To your eyes and lips, I drink
Nothing cheap, or given to thrift

Lyrically the way you express
Oh how you let me moderate beyond excess
If you were a Momsen, I would be reckless
You recognize my dysfunction
Full-filling my tropes
We all need those things we call hopes
A performance of honorable mention
Between your lights a deep dimension
And I the Captain scream to keep the ship steady,"Ho!"

Combining your curves with
psychoanalytic theory, I yield
Unto your results your figure makes my eyes blurry, a fascinating
Union of psychology and emotion
This bed, sheets, walls, and floors
Undulating like two caduceus serpents
Entwined in the naked-forever-motion
Our substance material like a hot molten potion

There will be no Freud tonight
I intend on being entirely Jung
You will be my chandelier
From that I will be well hung
But not before I slide you down the stares
With many steps, and a banister of rails
Wishing you wings like an angel
After the ringing of our flesh-like bells

We expose ourselves and it seems grotesque
But only to the prudes of what is modest
Like a mental science we have divined
A work of art in motion practice perfect refined
The perfect chalice of your platter
Making every moment the moment that matters

Even if what we do is unspeakable
Then, let us not speak
For we shall become our own fin de siecle
Below the buring skins of our hallowed sheets

Oh Female Gothique, how I adore you.

Maddened Lover

Maddened Lover
For what else could I be
Not quite Tennyson or even a Browning
Although you think me a Mary Lamb
Dancing in the reality of a Shinning

Maddened Lover
Love me and Leave me swell
If it were not my Gothicism
How did you come forth unto my wishing hell
Were these not the lips upon which you suckled so well

Maddened Lover
Did I not handle all of your throw
As if we switched lives like positions
Our genders have brought us under-tow
What you want until you leave
It is a wonder that you would know

Maddened Lover
If my blood were not True
It seemed you knew my Otranto
But left me feeling Shelly
As if the Count of Stoker
Became the Phantom Ship
Stirring echos like a
Pennyless broker

Maddened Lover
There was no reflection
In the mirror of me
Perhaps the nightmares of Rimbaur
Became the reality of your Thirteen tales
Leaving my life like a White Worm
Crumbling below the nine circles of hells

Maddened Lover
For I was never mad as you made me out
to be, for there is no Shakespearian tragedy
For the reflection of my flesh'n scars
That your maddness rippered into me

Maddened Lover,
It was your passionate insanity
that drew me to you

Outcast til Death; Eternal Damnation (Reflections)

...the flicker of frames...it is hard to focus on the images, hear the sounds, all that was felt -as if any of those things really happened.

Goth -it seems to have become not only a life-long realization, but idk, a great opening to understand the wonder of life, and the strange absolution in Death (if Death really is an ending). I wish I had more experiences other than my own lone adventures, but I have not been privileged. This is the main reason why I write on this blog, lost in the vast ocean of cyber-space. Sometimes I wonder if others read it, whether my words and expressions hold any merit. It is kind of like when I started making music and my first introductions to the computer,"I had no one to make music or communicate with, so, I became lost in a Dream within a Dream." Actually, I have received more flack and hate for expressing and voicing myself to the ends of which I do not fully understand. But, I do assume responsibility for all that I do as I live and conduct my Goth Life. All I wanted to do -I think- was attempt to connect with others like myself, and with those who would not shun or hate me for the life I have led. It is much like the song "Weak and Powerless". Humanity itself still has a long way to go before we make any real head-way towards allowing certain Life Styles, Cultures, and Races -although I am not sure how that will work or fully play out.

Outcast -it is not something I ever understood or wanted. It was not my intention to be different for the sake of difference or to get attention. But, when it is obvious that society, the norm, and other aspects of the world and people do not want you, or consider you to be relevant, then....you become Outcast. It doesn't make me hate anyone, it doesn't make me want to re-act with violence, it doesn't push me further into the void that I have always known as life. In one way, it makes me feel I have found a genuine, but lonely station in the world, never wavering from my placement or position. Strange you know, "To feel as if you have never really lived, or died, and are just floating in this eternal place called...limbo."

So, from this limbo, I write to you oh mysterious reader, whom I may never know, whom I may never see, whom might even be from a distant future after I have post-humously vanished into the eternal night. Anne Rice had written somewhere to write from the aspect of pain. Yes, I know pain well...perhaps to well. But, I know my life has not been as bad as some, and perhaps I live a Kingly life and yet not know it. Sometimes, other Goths have no-where to pull from, or come from an understanding of their own kind, and maybe I want to provide a different example, minus from all the commercialism. I guess, aside from what is typically expected, I say, "There is a different way; Another world of Goth aside from what you have been programmed to think and expect."

Yes, believe it or not, there is a side(s) to Goth that embraces Beauty(beyond the eye), Wonder that is not Horror, Love that is not Flawed, and even....the Sacred Clear Light.

There was a time 1000's of years ago when a strong and beautiful multitude of Germanic tribes lived and existed in the same ways as you and I. There was a time when "Goth" was a "True Way of Life", where the good and the bad were all celebrated as the Great Wheel ever turned the house of the Sky, and we realized we were drifters, riding an earthen boat, afloat the oceans of infinite space. There were even those "who wore the stars".

Outcast -I can remember being threatened in school, beaten up in school and other places, the endless looks and hateful stares enough to feel bitter cold run through you like a cold blade. It makes you strong, it makes you weak, it...teaches you things about people you would have never known other-wise, until you moved from outside the looking glass, to the inside. It feels like an "Eternal Damnation" in moments when I am not strong enough to fight back against those that despise me for no reason, sadly, even those among my own kind(?). How is it that any of us are entirely right or wrong? And for those of us who are Goth hath not dared waver from our Hollowed Station upon the Earth Sphere, when doth our time come when we celebrate the Light as much as the Darkness -for in the beginning, they were ours, and, for all.

It has been interesting to see what Goth has become over time. There are those that say it has evolved, or has gone through a mutation, but I say, "True Goth has only been superimposed upon, feeble attempts to substitute non-Goth things for the selfish desires of others, falsely used and abused by liars who assume some authoritarian position saying they have knowledge and know what true goth is." But, they do not. They simply fell in time with the other trends, what they could make a quick buck off of, they did and said things to fit into their crowds and to appease their customers. I can not say that all of it was right or wrong, but my opinion is that the multitude like these aforementioned were wrong. Why? Because they picked and chose their moments to be Goth, they picked and chose when to support it and when to drop it, they picked and chose to take what they wanted and discarded the rest, even History. Without the preceding history of Goth, modern Goth would not exist at all, and I would entirely like to hear someone debate that fact with any degree of impossible success. Mark my words, "It will never happen."

So, if it were not for all the Germanic and European Tribes, Goth would not exist. As someone -distantly related by DNA- how-so-ever-distantly related, I give Honor and Respect to my distantly related Ancestors. I wonder if the past Goths would even begin to tolerate the present Goth, the false air of pretense, the laughing difference between costume and battle armor, real war-paint hysterically compared to eye-liner? I am not saying that I feel or think all of it is bad, but, it is analagous to driving a car, and not yet knowing how the motor or mechanics work. Even better would be to say what the difference is between those who live a True Goth Life (real) and opposed to those who dress themselves in the pale, weak, modern comparison of the Ancestors, Founders, and True Artisans of all that it means to be Goth.

There are times that I wonder when it is only convenient for some to be Goth only when it suits there purposes or needs. I will say that in today's modern world, there is a time and place for everything, and Goth Life is not accepted in a multitude of places in the world. I don't think hiding in the shadows for fun should have ever been embraced as some Romantic quality of Goth, although it seems to have become the proverbial hiding-hole (seedy-clubs, worthless concerts, niche' business, online social networks) for those who seek this wonder.

It is hard to speak a truth, and, even harder to live a Truth. But, Perhaps it is all subjective.

Do we allow commercialism: art, music, clothes, internet social networks, fictional books <do we allow these things to define "True Goth". Do we allow these things to define us as "Goth". Do you really think any of these commercialized creations define, speak to, or actually create and express "True Goth"? Seriously.

No commercialism in any form what-so-ever, should ever define you as a Goth, nor should it be used or allowed to define Goth. Remember who you are, Goth, not what you have been programmed and expected to be.

I look forward to the Day when the Light is as Celebrated in Goth Culture as the Darkness is, for whether Good or Evil exists, they exist in both conditions -so, it matters not if you dress in all black or white. What I feel is important is that, "You are True to Yourself, and the Chosen Life-Path you Live."