Born into This...Like This... DOOM! Bukowski

Born like this
Into this
As the chalk faces smile
As Mrs. Death laughs
As the elevators break
As political landscapes dissolve
As the supermarket bag boy holds a college degree
As the oily fish spit out their oily prey
As the sun is masked
We are
Born like this
Into this
Into these carefully mad wars
Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness
Into bars where people no longer speak to each other
Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings
Born into this
Into hospitals which are so expensive that it’s cheaper to die
Into lawyers who charge so much it’s cheaper to plead guilty
Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes
Born into this
Walking and living through this
Dying because of this
Muted because of this
Castrated
Debauched
Disinherited
Because of this
Fooled by this
Used by this
Pissed on by this
Made crazy and sick by this
Made violent
Made inhuman
By this
The heart is blackened
The fingers reach for the throat
The gun
The knife
The bomb
The fingers reach toward an unresponsive god
The fingers reach for the bottle
The pill
The powder
We are born into this sorrowful deadliness
We are born into a government 60 years in debt
That soon will be unable to even pay the interest on that debt
And the banks will burn
Money will be useless
There will be open and unpunished murder in the streets
It will be guns and roving mobs
Land will be useless
Food will become a diminishing return
Nuclear power will be taken over by the many
Explosions will continually shake the earth
Radiated robot men will stalk each other
The rich and the chosen will watch from space platforms
Dante’s Inferno will be made to look like a children’s playground
The sun will not be seen and it will always be night
Trees will die
All vegetation will die
Radiated men will eat the flesh of radiated men
The sea will be poisoned
The lakes and rivers will vanish
Rain will be the new gold
The rotting bodies of men and animals will stink in the dark wind
The last few survivors will be overtaken by new and hideous diseases
And the space platforms will be destroyed by attrition
The petering out of supplies
The natural effect of general decay
And there will be the most beautiful silence never heard
Born out of that.
The sun still hidden there
Awaiting the next chapter.

...I am Born into this world. Consumed by Leviathan.
Can I change it?
I can only await what happens next, await for the choices that lay ahead of me.
What I can change is my direction.
Am I continuing on the path to Greatness? Path to Destruction?
I realize...
I am a product of Leviathan...Either path I choose, my Life will CHANGE...I CHANGE my world as I Live...Can I choose to slay Leviathan? or stay in it?
I want to slay it, but I wouldn't mind staying in it, if I can tame it...
I'm still sharpening my sword, my mind.
When I am confident in my skillz, I will face it and decide its fate...my fate...


**!?!?**




Only when the last tree has died
and the last river been poisoned
and the last fish been caught
will we realise we cannot eat money.
-Cree Saying

First Step: EXPRESSION

Hello everyone!

First off, Thank you for stopping by and checking out my Blog.
I have been debating about creating a Blog for a LONG time. Because at first i wanted an outlet for expressing my thoughts. I tried to start the old Fashioned way, writing on paper, or just typing random thoughts on microsoft word. BUT i figured that it serves no other purpose than to try and relieve myself of any excess thoughts through expression in writing. I mean it was a good way of actually expressing how I felt at the moment, yet it still made me feel some anxiety. I guess because my writing merely became just scribbles on paper. No one will read them ever, except me. I mean anyone is welcome to read them, just go to my room and pick up the random sheets scattered around, in notebooks etc. But at the end of the day it will just be scribbles on a sheet of paper only I have access to. I may have poured my soul into my writings, but what good is the writing if the potential of it being decoded is slim to none? Meaning, if no one will read it, what is its purpose, other than to just relieve myself of a load in my mind? No one may really TRULY understand my passionate expression at that particular moment when I wrote that piece. They would have to experience that own expression on their own...

I express myself for the sake of expressing myself, but like Kafka's Hunger Artist, I want/have a need to be acknowledged. But in reality, Who Doesnt?

I feel as though it doesn't fully satisfy me enough when i merely just write on paper. I am an unselfish being (well i try to be), and I wish to share my thoughts with everyone. Not because i want people to feel whatever mood i was feeling when i wrote that piece, but rather to inspire people to understand and acknowledge that I, for that time I wrote my entry, was HONESTLY EXPRESSING MYSELF!

I want everyone to understand that for that time I was writing, I was just expressing myself. I may have been mad, glad, happy or sad, and it may be obvious in my piece, but the fact i wish to share is the fact that i WROTE a piece in the first place...


I want to share with the world and inspire, to the best of my ability, of Humanly expressing myself. I feel this is the first step into being able to live a Happier life. Keeping NOTHING bottled up inside. Really just letting go and express what is on my mind. Then having others read it , and feel inspired to do so as well.

In the end, I guess what my goal for doing this other than just to express myself, is to inspire OTHERS to express themselves...
Forgive me for my redundant inarticulateness.

What I feel my ambition is right now is to try to inspire a state of liberation (life) among people. And the first step into doing this, is by being able to Express oneself.

I honestly FEEL that the only way to receive acknowledgment that one has expressed themself, is if another person can read and can sense that expression. Feel that other persons expression.
But no one can truly FEEL the other persons expression, only their own...I need to prove to myself that my expression is worthy of being acknowledged in the first place...

Expression is an art itself. And being art, not everyone may understand it at first. To even classify as being art, it must be showcased and acknowledged, and lived through.
If not, then it is dead.

But how can expression be dead? It can't, but if no one is expressing themself, how can "expressing" (the liberation and feeling of it) be alive?

How can it be there if it is not known it exists?
Everyone Expresses themselves everyday, by just living and being themselvses, but for some reason I'm Thinking about something Deeper than that. Beyond just everyday expression that goes on, well not really. I am thinking about Honestly as Humanly possible expressing oneself, to the point that it becomes just the inner self becoming the outer. Fully overpowering the mask we all place over ourselves in our every walk of life...


___________________________________________________________

hmm.. i feel like i've went on a tangent...on my 1st blog too!! i think i may have gotten carried away. But there is just so much I want to get out of my head.
Bah oh well, im just expressing how i feel right now. and i just feel like writing stuff.

Feel Free to express your own comments if any.

and Thanks For Reading... even if it just this final line! =D