I have an idea that is hard to understand,
because it's in a world that doesn't exist,
but has a god like knowledge. Now, the thing
with god knowledge is this, you are familiar
with all possible understanding on everything,
weather it right or wrong fact or fiction.
Everything is within your considering.
Painting with clicking keys, not with brushes,
is it really it painting? Shouldn't it be called
something else? Does art need to do a thing?
Can it be of its own sake? God knowledge,
they wish to steal it back. Take way the info.
Why am I different?
My mother would sing to me at bed time.
She would also read me a story, but there
was always a song? When does that happen
these days? That makes me pissed. As an
artist and an old fucker, I'm ah happy
that change has to come? I invite genuine
confusion. Not commercial kind to keep you on Rx.
The soul building kind that brakes a mind
from the trance. It matters not the children
being raise by Ipad's, there is no stopping
it now. Imprinting says what?
Pandora box holds what treasurer tortures?
So I sit at a crossroads, to paint or not to paint?
Is it nobler to tell a story long hand, that's familiar,
or type it out on a computer, a process new to you?
I counter motherfucker is that enough?
In my life time, the hunger of people's
greed has destroyed 70% of animals with back bones.
fucking pussies with guns. Half a hundred years
give me back the jungle, I guarantee a Jaguar for a
consort. No lets us kill everything because we can,
but this is not a political rant, as if destruction
is legislated? This is a creative one.
Soapbox a life out of whatever this first fifty was.
I question why art now?
Why not because I only art if I need to?
If it is my prime motivation? If I fill
a life time with art, to be happy, how do
I create that life? Again, why do I fall
two feet back? Why paint with oil, when
the hidden meaning in the smile of Mona
Lisa's suggestion, is only an intention?
Smarter is it not to create art that's not?
And what does it take for an old man to learn
to run in a world that isn't? Is this the
next question? What is he running for?
The runner, if he's fast enough to see into the future?
And I know it is all too easy. Screaming
garbage man, not enough to draw, or paint,
or rap, or dance by yourself, in your
room, in front of a camera. Cutting a pasting
a fake life with the production and
distribution power of 20th century
media studio mogul in pocket. What is missing?
Where has it gone? Stop talking shit,
in the age of shit talking because
in the end if you are only talking shit,
you are just an arse. Shut up stupid,
you have to start somewhere’s.
What did I do yesterday that I didn't
do today? This is a good question if
I do what I did yesterday, happily.
Because this is the new way again
of loving in a dangerous time tripping
in ruts of what is left of imagination
if you know not of your economized mind
with the word reality repeating in the
television that never shut because of
mother's rationalization over background
lies. Whatever rocks your cock or
clit because kids don't raising themselves
and after 18 it's none of my business.
Facebook is making your children want
to slice into their wrists? I don't care
I love it. The sexual motivation to
be seen and heard. This weaponized
new technology against you from their
entrance. Is that humanities default,
hate thy neighbour? Are you a master
in the subtle art of not giving a fuck?
That we poison the Inuit with PCB's.
Fuck the not normal with the empires horse
because contrary pursuit of money
doesn't make me happy and I love
to imagine a world with a green sky.
I want purple bananas tastes and fruit that
changes perceptions for days, but your
addicted to killing the jungle, and call what's
left drum and bass. Crushing cultures to steal
because I can see on my phone for years, through
all the lies. So I believe you can too.
I'm stuck. Stuck on the American news cycle.
I'm stuck waiting addictive for the next crazy
mind Joe Rogan's gonna answer questions with.
Answered crazy true reasons of why all of South
America harbours serious distaste for Argentina,
Maria Q, I crushed so hard if you only knew.
I'm stuck on MILF's and tenticals, but not like
the boys soon to become men. I'm stuck on
skipping another get rich quick ad and getting lost
in the borderlands.
Today all the fucking websites look the same
I would shut off all media if I could, to realize a life . . .
But without creativity it wouldn't last long.
And I am sick of bitching bout about never having
children. Fuck my reality because you heard,
on Facebook that somebody else got away with not
paying there employees. You cunt, complete suggestive
thievery. Keep your pussy off of me power slut,
I just saved the life of a child. This is a rant of me
working out the paralyzing ideals of not getting paid
for a job well done. While you straight make jokes
of how I can't keep a job because the fucking nigger
I am, and my words don't mean shit. They aren't easy
and they're ugly and they have all bleed through me.
but Imma changing. . .the fuck you doing?
These are meditations into the first segment
of this here new century, how are we doing,
why are we ALL universally mad As a species?
World wide anger at whatever, no at bullshitting,
never mind the business behind it. We could have
stopped to take a breath fresh air for a year. Isn't a machine
that can't be stopped not dangerous? Are we dangerous?
Do we art political and can we be never corrupted?
Have you ever listened to your heart? What did it say?
Today I feel shame as always, why? Is it because
I didn't art? Do I become art as a living being accepting
the crows warning of the world a swirling us all under,
what? Is my circle speaking crazy? What, I learned
how from your nation, America fuck yeah. Should I
create to sort out what makes me feel for a freeing feeling?
As your electric invisible scrimmage forces all my friends
to think and love constant prefrontal advertising implants.
Take a selfie, look at the image, the face of big brother's
leering essence.
But if I create in the world that ain't, what do I have
to show for, when the lights go out? Their only power,
two blue's girls told me once. What do I have to learn
next. Well . . .asked yourself this how many times?
For how many years, and what did you see?
BLAMO I have an idea. Its the newest in new styles.
Kill the distraction and wait with the all your craziest ideas.
Don't let them steal your fire. These old greedy fuckers
have left you nothing and fantasize on living for ever.
Get a picture started with the idea of a spirit warrior.
Illustrate the idea you defined. Work it till the end.
The code you write, cut and paste makes you simple.
The end sum is a wish to animate Not enough to only
draw a picture, or write a poem. that's what granny did.
We have a new power over the culture Vampires,
fiending to suck off all our truth with lies.
Before it gets to shine a magical light for all of your
children to follow. The children of the future.
Say no to the unmarked graves on the Reservation,
evil has planned for you. Gone are the days when
science practice would earn you a visit from skilled
witch hunters. They want to rob you, stop talking shit,
stand up and stop them. Because in 100 years
of serious, demon innovation there will be truly
nothing Left.
I got obsessed with the idea of home when
I was oh so young. What that means and how I will
never build my own, because really who would
invest in the titanic now. How the most solid sanctuary
was built by the one son, the rest loved to shit on.
Of course my favourite, Since the Rodney King riots,
to the french terror attack of 2015, even though he's gone,
every social upset was witnessed under his roof.
As if ushered, arm in arm, by the touch of the gods.
Not the pandemic, does not travel.
That means the beginning of a new era? I sat amazed
in unfamiliar comfort, creating chaos in the question.
Closing on sanctuary feeling ease with one
of my own. Mirror the hero. The last battle's
mental. The final straw dropped when all
knowledge is free. Take advantage as I said
they want to take it from you. When I didn't
watch the last movie, my father and I talked
of screening together, in our gleeful weekend,
oak smoked filled rituals. With the quote
from a Coen Brothers classic,
“ain't no kinda a man if you ain't got no land”,
was my mantra into eternity. Now and here,
without you I wish with love biker brother number one,
first to post: high-school, with wife and son, secure.
I was happy for my champion.
Only to be conflicted in myself.