Monday, February 28, 2005

thoughts on selfhood, altruism, alienation and other sophomoric touchy-feely bullshit

i should note - at risk of seeming pretentious - that i was reading some of ol' Freud and Nietzsche (the perv and the psycho) when i made this semi-journal-ish writing of my own thoughts, which i'm transcribing and editing here from my handwriting. Sorry for the two posts in one sitting, and sorry if this seems like gibberish - i'm rewriting parts:

Isolation or a feeling of separateness may lead to a lack of empathy, a lack of care about others. The feeling of separateness may also lead to resentment of others, and to jealously at their ability to interact. It could lead to the illusion - WRONGLY - that those others are not human, when in fact they are human and worthy of ethical treatment.
In addition, a feeling of powerlessness increases one's anger. However, maybe anger at others comes from anger at oneself for not living up to one's ideals. This could be linked to one's anger at others for imposing these ideals on one (whether or not they did).
There could be an unsuccessful attempt to translate one's feeling of separateness - meaning the self/other dichotomy - from selfishness to selflessness/altruism. However, the natural, instinctual desire for self-preservation prevents this attempted translation. Also, in this case, the desire for self-preservation and self-pleasure would boost or increase one's selfishness, becuase it is not mitigated (sublimated?) by linking others as an extension of oneself as most religious/moral people can do to some extent, large or small. That is, religious/moral people can to some degree prevent their instinctual desire for their own well-being and pleasure from turning into selfishness, by finding a way to identify others around them -- perhaps all of Creation -- and thus feel like helping others is a way to help themselves like their instincts say to do.
The problem for a person who feels isolated and separate is that he or she does not feel connected to others, and so the isolated person cannot do this linking their own well-being to others in his/her own mind. Since there is a great divide in the isolated person's mind between his or her-self and everyone else, the only way he or she can often think of to try to become altruistic and giving is by trying to turn his/her instinctual self-love -- self-preservation -- into self-hatred. The isolated person figures, WRONGLY, that it's a zero-sum game between his or herself and others -- either he/she wins or they do, etc. So the person is selfish and hates everyone who gives him or her pain or who gets in the way of his/her own pleasure. If the isolated person decides to try to be altruistic (likely, in order to avoid cosmic punishment), then that person will try to reverse this dichotomy, trying to hate his or her self in order to love others, since it's supposedly a zero-sum game.
What's important to stress is that one's instincts of self-preservation make it almost impossible (and maybe even totally impossible) to truly hate oneself in the sense of really wanting to give oneself pain and deprive oneself of all pleasure (which is different from, for example, saying "i'll give myself this pain exercising now so i can feel good with endorphins/self-esteem later."). Because self-hatred runs against the instincts, trying to hate oneself in the name of loving others one doesn't feel connected to anyway simply increases one's resentment of others (one feels one has to give up so much to serve others, with nothing in return).
It should also be noted that one may try to hate oneself for other reasons - such as not seeming good enough for one's own standards -- and that this hatred or anger toward oneself, being forbidden by the instincts, must have some outlet besides oneself, and so gets directed instead toward other people. That is, you're angry at others because you're really angry at yourself but can't admit or don't want to admit it.
i'd suggest here that the only way for one to stop hating others -- for whatever reason -- and to truly become altruistic and loving is by learning to connect oneself mentally to others and to see others as an extension of oneself.
**To emphasize, doing this is NOT a mere trick to play on oneself, but instead actually does reflect reality. Won't get into that here, but think about it -- the "self" is an illusion. At any rate, even if it's impossible to see this reality of unity, it still may be possible to identify one's fate and well-being with the well-being of others by believing -- probably correctly -- that one will receive some sort of cosmic punishment if one does not. This punishment could be hell -- perhaps only for a time and not forever -- or it could be the suffering of Buddhist dukkha brought on by one's own selfishness, but either way. If you want to be cheery, think of cosmic reward for doing good (and i know this is "spiritual selfishness", but when you're incurably selfish ... i don't know)
In the end, thinking that you are "one" with someone else might just be the same thing as thinking that what you do to/for someone else will come back to bite you or reward you. Just two ways of perceiving the same reality. God bless.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

some of my crappy poems

Note: the poems get mainly less emo after I leave high school.
(date unknown – high school?)
The earth has gone around the sun quite a couple times
Since Sumerian cavemen played with irrigation lines
In those centuries so many souls have worked and died
And how many moments in how many lives were happy?

Animals and vegetables and fruitcakes in the pie
Are born and come to suffer, cause suffering and die
Each newest generation has no chance to question why
And how many tears in how many eyes are happy?

(date unknown – high school?)
I feel tired somehow
And dare I say, disillusioned
Though I had no illusions
In the first place I can name

I just want to shut out
The thoughts of revolutions
That cause all these contusions
In my mind that I can’t tame

Who am I to cry foul?
Who says I have the solution?
Why am I trying to prove
That I don’t have to play the game?

I cannot cop out
But should I fight pollution?
And who will my confusion hurt?
And what should stay the same?

(high school or early 2001)
Forgive me for promoting hate by talking about the hatred that the rich show in their actions toward the poor
Forgive me if I am too negative for not ignoring all the pain that people feel beyond my door
Perhaps we people should admit the great world leadership has all the wisdom in the universe to lead
Perhaps a patriotic person cannot talk about the actions of the leaders making people bleed

The leaders simply roll their eyes when people tell the truth about the way the leaders programs hurt through sin
The leaders claim the people make such negative complaints about the side effects of global medicine
Perhaps we just don’t realize that soon will come the triumph of the magic of these economic laws
Perhaps the wisest people cannot talk about the pain that’s caused by human-manufactured system flaws

2001 – before 9/11/01
Pray for the election – they all make me sick
Play for the erection of the biggest prick
Pundits and pantywaists go for the spoils
Produced on the backs and taxes of the toilers

2001
The next time that you feel depressed, pretend you’re talking to
A starving, sick Somalian kid about what makes you blue
When you describe your plight, the kid’s tears will get thick
He’ll yell at you, “That ain’t no problem where I’m from, you fucking prick!”

2001 – after 9/11/01
An object and a dumb thing, it’s accused and acted on
While it tries to trance away with dreams of happy campus lawns
Rapidly reality into its ego climbs
Forcing it to swallow, follow phlegm-filled paradigms
The thin veneer reality rips into restful peace
Tears down terraces between the social and the grease
But only boots above the arcs of haloes mark the crème
They may be over it, but friend, you can escape from them
You can be an agent, you can be a catalyst
You can shake away your torture; you can raise an active fist
Breaking up the dishes you refuse to be an “it”
You can jump up from the mud and push away that stupid shit
You can be the author of the art for good you want to make
But remember you must give your blood; you know what’s bad to take

2001
Inward driving over self extend give out agitate help
Tomato union mustard seed pass vice ego more unique
Ox mahatma chewing cud sunburned member dumbness in mud
Eat chi in a temple bleed pray for strength to be so meek

2001
There are irrational persons who would take our central law
To have some meaning that we Founding Fathers never saw
Any strict construct’nist know ’twas not the framed intent
That our selected leaders should the masses represent
For vulgar whims untempered by the rule of wiser men
Would take away the property entrusted us, and then
How would the moneyed people such as such our interests save?
How would we make a living if we hadn’t any slaves?
The common are a ragged lot; their raiment, dirt and fleas
’Tis better that we philosophes dispose wealth as we please
We must preserve our property as is our nat’ral right
The day of wealth giv’n equally would be as black as night
Anyone who would defy the rightness of this reason
Against our nation guilty is of working hateful treason
And any individual who suffers poverty
By fault is guilty of not taking opportunity
To build himself an empire or prosperous estate
He who does not an idler is; one cannot call him great
Yes, one may speak of one’s ideal republick, for a show
Bu oh! The horror of the franchise o’erextended! No!
For only gentleman can see the way the Constitution
Ought thus be used to stave off any vulgar revolution

2001
In the house they see so little light
Hard to know if things will turn out right
Hunger, thirst and leaders so corrupt
Don’t know when the people will erupt
Violence may royal plans disrupt
But also bring in evil with the might

In the house build stone on top of stone
Like a trillion words the mind has known
Build the hate and fear to start to kill
Genuflection to the harlot hill
If it harms they still do what they will
No stones left to build with all are thrown

In the house what’s left of life’s not fair
Hard from in the far-off lands to care
People in the house should have some more
Desperate to escape through any door
Designate the stigma call them poor
Help them to escape from Satan’s lair

In the house the people cannot wait
For the sands of time to bring their fate
A tapestry of new life they must sew
Though the job may seem to go too slow
People come to freedom from below
The poor in spirit may, in love, be great

(2001 or 2002?)
Rich and self-righteous alight the elites
With the flair of good fortune and smugness from power
They mark out their markets, they shove off restraints
Above the low masses, they take starry seats

“This is a new era,” the experts proclaim
"With new ways of bringing our plans into flower
No popular sanctions our actions can taint
The toys that we play with cannot stop our game”

“Democracy isn’t as free as a market
We’re making a world where you won’t need to vote
You deaf need our ears to draw to your attention
The trumpet of destiny’s slavery! Hark it!”

“Your servitude’s freedom, your long, ill-paid hours
Provide you with plenty of time to devote
To filling our coffers, like good Untermenschen
You’ll reap gold rewards from our trickle-down showers”

A union? Consumer groups? Awful oppression!
Denying the rights of the rich to abuse
The people so freely coerced into service
More free to obey us! That is your first lesson.”

“By people, for people, is anachronistic
Democracy’s morals for us are a noose
The thought of you having a voice makes us nervous
What comes from the people must be socialistic”

“Yes children, you may lose to make us rich winners
Invisible handiwork striking you dead
But please understand this is how it must be
For the good of us all,” bluff the business-suit sinners

The people take up the initiative, fighting
To tear down the idol and topple its head
They know what they need and they soon set themselves free
Injustices they get to work to be righting

(2001 or 2002?)
You mean I got to choose between baby-killing hypocrite snobs and blatant fat cat elites?
You mean I got to choose between giving people clean air to breathe and giving them food to eat?
You mean I got to choose between helping people pay for health care and helping them pay rent?
You mean I got to choose between subjugating women and murdering unborn innocents?

You mean I got to choose between letting the Third World rot and taking U.S. jobs?
You mean I got to choose between neglecting people who need my help and helping government rob?
You mean I got to choose between perpetuating slavery and starving workers in sweatshops?
You mean I got to choose between only making things worse and not trying to make problems stop?

2001 or 2002?
The corporations give the politicians campaign funding
The politicians do what business asks
Their mission is to mobilize astride the world to fight for rights
Of business to oppress the working class

Big business and big government cooperate in running
So many schemes affecting everyone
The people who oppress the poor try for to the chore of hoarding more
And keep the poor down underneath the gun

Big business also gives big media outlets lots of money
To tell the world what corporations say
Big media reports the news that’s useful to abusers’ views
And tells us to behave the corporate way

So next time that the leaders try to fill your head with honey
Remember there is vinegar in it
What you see when you watch TV can’t be quite what it seems to be
Remember corporate dominance is shit

2001 or 2002
The soldiers graduating
To Colombia return
Our taxes’ educating
Taught them how to kill and burn
The place where killers play
Once was called the SOA
Its name, but not its horror, has been spurned

The school has changed its name to
W-H-I-S-C
It’s taught how to cause pain to
People wanting to be free
General Suarez, General Rios
El Mozote and Trujillo
This shit is going on but we can’t see

That’s not to say the rebels
Are the good guys in the fight
They also act like devils
Neither side is really right
The peasants in the middle
Of the wars can’t solve the riddle
Of how they can live through another night

If the peasants help out either
Then the other will attack
But each side would be the leader
And the peasants get no slack
A hard place and a rock
Define the line the poor must walk
’Cause no one there will give them what they lack

1) 2003 or 2004
She roots through garbage in the city dump
Every day of the week, every week of the year
She steps on broken glass and cuts her feet
She gets bitten by flies and the smoke in her eyes gives her tears

She tries to find some food around the dump
Or some old plastic bags, or some old metal cans
The stench that fills her nose is far from sweet
She earns less than a dollar a day and that’s all that she plans

But she knows if she had a factory job
She’d be out of the sun, she’d be out of the smell
Two dollars daily – one day off per week
By the factory route, she could climb farther out of her hell

She wishes she could get a factory job
It’d be bad, but she knows it’d be worse if she stayed
She’s feeling dizzy and she’s feeling weak
But she wants to apply for a job, so she tries for a place

There’s high demand for all those factory jobs
Got to be in good health, got to have an ID
But she’s in luck – a shop downtown’s in need
Of some help, so she goes and sits down at a sewing machine

It’s not a paradise, but it’s a job
She knows this is the best, she knows she wants to stay
But she gets fired due to laws to heed
And she dies as a victim of false fair restrictions on trade

2.) 2001 or 2002
The pain of sweatshop workers’ bodies tied to broken psyches
There is no way that you can justify that pain as right
They slave in awful rooms to make so many pairs of Nikes
The reason for it is to make more cash for Philip Knight

The pain of sweatshop workers who have fallen into the Gap
Conditions they work in cannot be labeled charity
They slave for paltry wages all day long in fire traps
They need these jobs, but they don’t need this sweatshop poverty

The pain of sweatshop workers’ toil makes their lives a mess
They work for Reebok, Wilson, Falcon, and for B.U.M.
They slave from our own shores to Mexico to Bangladesh
Headaches and deadly sickness are what this work gives to them

The pain of sweatshop workers in the shops so hot and dirty
Their water isn’t safe; their supervisors beat them up
No benefits or sick days they’re worn out when they turn thirty
The workers go on strike to tell their companies, “Enough!”

3.) 2001 or 2002
Amidst all the propaganda somebody’s got to say
They’d be living so much better on just a couple more cents a day
If we could make ourselves care, if we could give a fuck
They’d be living so much better if their workplaces didn’t suck

2002 or 2003? with additions 2005

1) They say every herd needs a cowboy
Get along with them, little dogs
Millionaires are higher than America
America is higher than God

Cattle baron rules the good land
The king of all he views
He is the ultimate “I AM”
Fucking the ultimate ewe

Cattle baron carves his nation
Out of the Promised Land
Cattle millionaire masturbation
His destiny in his festering hand

This cowboy queen boy cunt boy
Is the man who drives the steers
He's the man without an asshole
At the end of the chain of queers

2) Never rob a poor man
Never shoot the deputy
Never hurt the innocent
While riding the range free

2002 or 2003? Changes in 2004
The object and subject, the guest and the host
The lesson is, less gets you more than the most
Gain the loss of the world with the cross of the line
Walk the balance between when you pick up the rind
That’s been tossed to the dirt like the stream to the coast
To stand up for justice, we need to be kind
A little bit modern, a little bit post

2002 or 2003?
The king goes to the peasant, saying, “You are now my slave”
The peasant says, “You can’t rule me, since I am just as good as you”
The king says to the peasant, “I’m the source of all your food”
The peasant says, “My family grew this from only what God gave before”

The king says to the peasant, “Give me everything you’ve saved”
The peasant says, “You’d have to kill me if you’d have me be your whore”
The king says, “I will bring you down, slave – lower than the dirt”
The peasant says, “There is a limit to just how much I may be hurt”

2002 or 2003?
Intensity is a worm writhing
A growing mustard seed
Two opposites uniting
A singularity

Intensity is the world watching
But we can’t sit and wait
It’s the egg of an eagle hatching
It’s love defeating hate

Intensity is the Way of wisdom
It’s not what we expect
It’s the inner cataclysm
Closer than the vein in your neck

Intensity is a wide wonder
It’s unconditional love
Overflowing bounty under
The Reign of God above

2003?
(Inspired by Maus by Art Spiegelman)

Is murder more evil when hands are blood-stained?
Can death by machine claim to be more humane?
Did Cain killing Abel with primitive stabs
Ever manage to have so much malice to grab at one’s soul?
Did the roll of the heads of the guillotine’s dead
Fill a human observer with half of the dread
That’s provoked by a gaze into hazy hate-smoke
From the burnt bodies who had no need to bleed red?

The Holocaust – yes, we can label the pain
Put the suffering and death in the cage of a name
Because Cain killing Abel was cat killing mouse
And the tables can’t turn in the comic-book house of the camp
Did the stamp of the paw on the bodies of mice
Cause the cats in the cradle of death to think twice
Of the games in the barn with the yarn that they played?
Or did listening to leaders cause sins to entice?

The cats drive the mice from the stores in the barn
The cats drive the vermin all off of the farm
In the depths of their madness the kittens proclaim,
“If we let them remain, they would bring us to harm
“For the good of humanity, summon the will
“The strongest of men must be cats for the kill
“No vermin escapes from our civilized arm.”

2003?
(Inspired by Shakespeare’s The Tempest and by the slave narrative of Frederick Douglass)

The charity of wind and waves has cast him on the shore
Of an isle of prosperity, its bounty spread before
By the right of magic might he takes it as his claim
Usurping black demonic powers, replaced with purer rule
His knowledge and his culture make him master over fools
The isle of prosperity is his by noble name
He has no need to render heed to those who came before

He is the man; the tall, the strong, the snow-white soul, the wise
He rids the isle of wicked snakes in every darkened guise
With the gift of magic myth, he tells the only tale
That he as judge will count as true; all others he will ban
As evil lies in black disguise; he is the only man
To all his slaves he does recount the kindness of the gale
That made him king of all the isle, above their savage guise

The slaves could tell a different tale if one would only hear
Of pain and death and bloody whips, of misery and fear
That comes with life in evil chains, denying sacred rights
They work for wood and cotton; goodness does not come to them
From hands that hold the whips and lips that talk of Bethlehem
The masters, marked with malice, are the cats who rule the mice
But every master's heart of iron rusts because of fear

That the secret knowledge stored inside the master's private cell
May make its way to slaves and give the mute ones words to tell
The Truth; the histories of people whom the masters harm
The tale of how the isle of prosperity's great gifts
Were taken from them by the might of men with myths and whips
The truth of knowledge-power gives the masters great alarm
Can words so weak help slaves to freedom? Only time will tell
(maybe around 11/9/03, changed and typed 2/26/06)
You pay your government taxes and you pay your landlord rent
But to your kind employer, you don't seem to pay a cent
But indeed, you pay your boss -- you'll see as soon as you inspect
You pay him with your work and then he hands you back a check

2003 or 2004
I laughed when I found out I was a welfare libertarian
Another name for middle-of-the-road
My goal’s to be an individualist communitarian
That is the kind of balance we must act
It’s fun to run one’s mouth about the plight of proletarians
But I don’t think that I have got the tact
See me – I am what happens when you over-breed an Aryan
My camel back breaks from one needle’s load

I laughed when I found out that all my sadness was psychology
That serotonin levels stop and start
But sometimes I think I owe a lot of people an apology
For all the slave-raised chocolate that I eat
We need a liberation art and science and theology
But what are we supposed to do about meat?
They say you cannot reach the mountaintop with some Kabala
Jesus never set up shop inside my heart

2003?
The Kingdom of God is a tiny seed
Enlightenment is dried shit on a stick
The children of God are the least of these
We’re all affected by the paths we pick

2003?
There’s a level where the Spirit is the fire that ignites us
And a level where the Spirit is extinguishing our flame
There’s a level where the Spirit is the energy inside us
And a level where the Spirit is the Distant Holy Name

There’s a level where the Spirit holds two opposites in balance
And a level where the Spirit is one Good opposed alone
There’s a level where the Spirit picks a barn before a palace
And a level where the Spirit is a Monarch on a throne

There’s a level where the Spirit is in charge of every instant
And a level where the Spirit gives us free will to decide
There’s a level where the Spirit calls our works to go the distance
And a level where the Spirit calls our faith to take a ride

There’s a level where the Spirit is mysterious in hiding
And a level where the Spirit opens up inviting doors
There’s a level where the Spirit, in our fights, is never siding
And a level where the Spirit shows an option for the poor

2003?
Colonize me baby ’cause I wanna be your virgin land
I’m stuck here in the jungle and I need your invisible hand
I’m one with nature ’cause the universe is only in my head
Everybody knows that all the Indians are long since dead
My skin is white enough for me to paint it in whatever color
From inside my air-conditioned house, I like to call the earth my mother
Ralph Nader and Darth Vader’s epic battle’s told of in the Vedas
Right before the Second Coming of Carlos Castaneda
I guess I must be culturally appropriating
It’s just another way for a white boy to be self-hating

2003 or 2004?
Be the new you who you want to be
Leave behind the former you
Believe that that Heaven’s manna is in the air we breathe
Dedicate to what is true

Who is the new you who you wish were fact?
Is it the you who’d choose that fate?
Believe that Heaven’s manna is in the way we act
To counter ignorance, greed and hate

Change is hard but we all have to try
To begin each moment fresh
Believe that Heaven’s manna is in the tears we cry
When snares and traps have us enmeshed

Let’s be the new us, like we ought to dare
And with each breath be born again
Believe that Heaven’s manna is in the love we share
Revolution, turn, repent

(2002 or 2003?)
Think you can walk God like a dog?
Think you can put Him on a leash?
Think you can yoke him with your choke-hold
By smoking holy hashish?

Think you can order up His Power
Like in a mail-in catalog?
Think you can use Him or control Him?
Think you can walk Him like a dog?

2003 or 2004?
Take a deep breath of the air that sustains you
And claim that you’re independent
Take a steady stance on the ground that’s beneath you
And claim that you stand alone

Take a good look at the garden that feeds you
And claim you’re the superintendent
Take a big heap of the earth that has birthed you
And claim that it’s all your own

(Spring 2004, with updates 8/30/04)
So just when I think some violent revolutions might be okay
News from Nepal reminds me that it isn’t the way
But if it isn’t justified
To kill some innocents to save
Some other innocents from slavery
How can we send to die
So many of our soldiers to Iraq
And just how long should they stay?

So just when I think an armed response would only set progress back
A note from Zarqawi informs me that it’s just the right track
They say Saddam Hussein defied
’Cause he thought we would not be brave
Enough to actually invade
The terrorists must realize
We have enough resolve to make them pay
When they decide to attack

So just when I think that all my arguments for war have been made
Thoughts of my friends remind me I have no right to say
If there were not al-Qaeda ties
Or weapons that our leaders raved
Were there, with evidence they gave
Was it mistaken or a lie?
It’s not my place to call for an attack
For which I won’t bear the blade

So just when I think this war’s injustice has been proven a fact
Words from Cambodia inform me that some leaders need sacked
Is it duty to which we’re obliged
To send good lives to early graves?
Or if our country here is safe
Can we all simply stand aside?
An old friend said the other day
That he’ll be sent to Iraq

(Note: My old high-school friend, Marine reservist Chris Fulton, left for Iraq around the time of the January 2004 elections and thankfully returned in September 2005).

2004
Is it too negative to ask why you ignore the brutal acts of people who are on your so-called side?
Especially when you’re so vocal in opposing all your enemies’ atrocities and homicides
This message isn’t just for one side or the other; rather it’s for both to see the vices of their teams
It seems to be a moderate position to be negative toward both sides – or is that just more extreme?

6/04
How much worse are massacres than teasing?
How much worse was Stalin than the czar?
How much worse are tyrannies than colonies and how much worse
Is how things would be changed than how things are?

How much worse is terror than an insult?
How much worse than some democracy?
How much worse was flying fucking planes into those buildings
Than that vague symbolic threat, modernity?

But that is no excuse for pecking orders
That is no excuse for any czar
That is no excuse for all the tyranny of colonies
That is no excuse for how things are

This is not a call for our perfection
This is not some hopeless high demand
This is not a call for rearranging human nature
This is just a call for doing what we can

7/29/ 04
Entering the land of Rebellion
Ripped unnaturally from the womb of Hope
Read the Constitution of Jefferson
To see if it’s a garden snake or a rope to the sky

Entering the land of the Promise
Supernaturally from the bloody sea
Read the proclamation of Thomas
To find a way of life that can ethically be justified

8/7/04
Sadness is the bow of the wimpiest chimp
Before the might of the great alpha male
Happiness is the lab-rat response of the pimp
Getting off on the exit to hell

Fear is the inborn aversion to threats
That’s encased in the base of your brain
Anger is the same drive as fear, and yet
It only seems to cause greater pain

8/04
If you’re not true-life, you cannot help the hunt
If you can’t help the hunt, then you must be
A parasite that sucks, a fucking flea
That’s too damn evil and too fucking weak
To ever help the good souls bear the brunt
You lie to true-life souls of dreams you see
To trick them into giving what you want

8/04
You’re so much better people than the hucksters who you listen to
You’re so much better people than the hucksters who you read
You’re so much better people than the hucksters who you’ve voted for
Who promise to be righteous kings, then make your children bleed

2004
Why don’t my sentiments match what is taken
By the majority as common sense?
They’re smarter than me, but I fear they’re mistaken
I use my snobbery as a defense of my Self
Am I going to hell?

Sometimes my sentiments shift to agree with
Those lovely people whose hatred I hate
Is it naïve to believe even Jesus?
Or is it a sin not to fill starving plates up with food?
’Cause I’m not in the mood

9/19/04
Embrace a different life
Embrace a clearer vision
Embrace the coming death
Embrace the moral mission

11/04 – (including stuff from around 2001, 2002 or 2003)
It’s the strangest thing in America that the ivory tower ever did see
The rebellion of a John Birch proletariat against a Marxist bourgeoisie
A lot of people are uneasy paying union dues for fear they’re paying for the right to abort
There’d be more people joining unions if they stopped their contributions to office-seekers people cannot support

At the end of the day, it’s not clear which is worse for the fact the world’s not doing so well
The folks who try to force the world to match exactly their dreams, or the ones who will do nothing to help
It’s impossible to bring perfection into this world, ’cause here, perfection cannot truly exist
If we think we can make things perfect, then we’ll just make them worse; but we have to make things better than this

It’s nice to think that if we had no sticks or carrots or rules, we’d all be ethical with natural ease
But we cannot have real anarchy if everyone does everything they please
The chiefs and leaders use the greedy ways that people behave to excuse pursuing greed of their own
But all these sins are just coercion whether by just one person or by government or business-suit clones

There’s the left wing, right wing, bottom wing and top wing, the middle of the road, the red, the black and the green
I don’t know if i’m left or if i’m right or not, but i really think abortion is mean
The old dichotomies are not too hot for figuring out how to ascertain the rightness of acts
You see, a corporation’s just another government and its profits are just more income tax

Maybe if we all join hands and sing we’ll forget about all the starving people there are
And maybe in about another decade or two we’ll have environmentally friendly cars
I hope that the next time that we tear something down we put something better back up
I hope that we’re heading for a better place wherever it is we end up

3/2005
Every egghead thinks they're non-conformist
Every weirdo thinks they're smart
How many eggs should we break to make an omlet?
How do we know it won't turn out over-hard?

5/2005
I don't ride a motorcycle
Never wore a leather coat
I don't drink Jack Daniels' whiskey
Cannot crush a grown man's throat

I am not a street-gang member
I don't got no prison tats
I'm not into kinky bondage
I don't drink the blood of bats

Never been to jail or beaten
For expressing my beliefs
Never went to Guatemala
To provide the poor relief

Cannot say I'm ususally moral
And I've shown I'm not too tough
Not so meek to shrug off weakness
My sins' strength's not strong enough

Don't know if I'll get the chance
To do the things at times I've dreamed
I don't even know what I want
Or if that is what it seems

Guess the point of all this rambling
Is that I should try to be
Good in strength and strong in meekness
Now that I have my degree

(May or June 2005?)
Everything in the universe is now cliche
It's been said before but there is nothing to say

6/2005
Behind the smiling face of Buddha lies a grinning skull
Behind the skull is a flower, head and stem
Behind the flower is nothing, broken in pieces and swept in a heap
That leads you back to Buddha's face again

6/5/05
It's the part of us most like the snake
That makes us fear and hate the snake

6/2005
Anger may be the fuel of my determination
But it will not turn to hatred
If i keep my self-discipline

The instinct inside me called for self-preservation
Tell me life is what i need, but it will not turn to greed
Or selfish sin

6/10/05
Do you have the balls to be Jesus Christ?
Can you take the labor pains of dying for salvation of the earth?
Are you man enough to give birth?

8/05
(written as part of half-ass semi-idea about a Shakespeare parody)

Upon the privy, prithee, let me sit
And ruminate upon this verbal wit
Perchance to render forth a bit of wisdom in the course
Of coaxing out a giant noxious pile of entries in my diary

8/05
(also for Shakespeare parody - no, it isn't addressed to anyone)

Oh, thou enchanting baroness
Would that I could but touch thy breast
Perchance from there to stray beneath thy waist
How much I yearn that i could tuck
Thee in at night, and gently pucker
Up my lips to wait upon thy kiss

Durst I describe what passeth next?
We both give in to pleasure's hex
indulging in our passions, just a taste
In sweet embrace, we both shall sometime
Bring our love into a rumbling
Thunderstorm of blessed little bliss
Like this
(Remember, this poem and the one above it were planned as humorous lines in a Shakespeare parody I never got around to writing. They are not meant to be serious and the love poem is NOT directed at anyone in real life, but was to be recited by a character in the planned parody)

8/05
I've seen the best minds of my generation enslaved by the church of the busnessman's god
I've see the workers taxed into desperation to feed the idle idols of authority's maw
I've seen some seek a second path of liberation by embracing falsely laissez-faire creeds
I've seen the lines that cross between Four Freedoms fading underneath the harsh besieging of need and greed
8/05
Chaos of grace, grace of chaos
Almost makes me feel optimistic
But not enough to kill the mood
I hope I made the right decision
When I chose again to kill my food

(date unknown - around time of "land/capital" in notes)

Those who in their souls are real will be saved from pain they feel
Those who ache for those who've gone, they will see a brand new dawn
Those whose strength is gentleness will receive the very best
Those who work for what is right will be filled with soul-force light
Those who truly are sincere will be witness without fear
Those who act to reconcile will be given cause to smile
Those who stand and do not flee will receive eternity
10/25/05
I believe in the law of karma
And in everything’s profound connectedness
I believe in the Revolution
’Cause I can keep on redefining what it is

12/05
There is no one in the
Plaza, tho’ the sun shines brightly
No one to see
No one to understand
The emptiness in the center of the city
But
Someone sees
Someone understands
Maybe it is the plaza
Maybe it is the sun
Maybe it is
The center in the emptiness of the city

(late 2005/early 2006)
I am the Scarlet Woman
And I am the Great Beast
And so are you

3/26/06
I’m more than just this vessel of nerves and flesh, but also less
My consciousness will not survive the trip
The same as what it was
The distance I must travel is the difference I must make
For distance is just time and time is nothing in the mind
Of who we truly are but still must strive to find
The distant Name confessed
5/20/06
To refuse to submit to a lethal hit is not always evil anger
To refuse to be deprived of what you need to survive is not always evil greed
5/20/06
You may not think it's very cool for you to ever be kind
But these kinds of distinctions are really only made in your mind
I'm not saying that there's never a season for "an eye for an eye"
But listen to reason -- no evil needs an evil reply
12/13/06
I've been wandering in the desert
But I've come to understand
I need to reconnect to the politics
That made me who I am
I've toyed with libertarianism
And can't say that's all wrong
But I should always try to do
What benefits an Ebion
I will not be brainwashed
By the rich man's bag of tricks
'Cause who I am is nothing
And that's my politics
12/18/06
The Dark Art's in a lusting heart
It's where you make a fist
I cannot say it's always wrong
But I'll say it's dangerous
A martial artist trains for years
To wield his weapons well
And that's the way that we should train
To tend the flames of self
A novice trying to use a weapon
Classed beyond his skill
Could get himself or friends bystanding
Hurt or maimed or killed
And thus it is with lust and wrath
The fires of the Soul
We can't -- and shouldn't -- be rid of them
But we must have control


7/ /07

When we were young
We made up stories, some of which we half believed
About how we were aliens come from some other galaxy

We'd look up at the stars at night
Counting planes and satellites
Wondering which one was the ship to take us home
Would the chariot swing low?

We're older now, and now we know the ship's not coming back
But we still make up stories just to make each other laugh
And though our lives have not turned out to be quite how we planned
We find that we're still strangers in an even stranger land

When I was young
I made up a story, one I made myself believe
About how I was Peter Pan, with a child warrior's destiny

I'd look up at the stars at night
Trying to think glad thoughts to fly
Wondering where was Tink to take me home
Would the chariot swing low?

I'm older now, and now I know I never can go back
But I still sometimes wonder when the pirates will attack
And though I know I can't hold on to childhood's Neverland
I dream I'll one day grasp the sword of destiny in hand

9/09

Neck Romancer – The Ballad of Emo Jojo

Jojo was a man who thought he was a vampire
But he really had no fangs
Jojo didn’t know all he had was a fetish
For people’s necks he wanted to bang

But when he’d try to bite a neck for blood he thought he’d need
He’d find he didn’t have the tools to consummate the deed

One day Jojo got up and put on his eyeliner
Combed his bangs across his face
Walking down the street, who did he chance to meet
But the star of Deep Throat, Linda Lovelace

She’d smoked too many cigarettes for decades, so you see
She had a hole in her throat from a tracheotomy

Jojo tried to bite Linda on the neck
Linda said to Jojo, “Hey, wait a sec
“If you like my throat, you should know it has a special spot
“So get a stepladder and show me what you got”

Jojo said to Linda, “This is what I want
“I don’t need to bite your neck—I’ll use it like a cunt
Since then they lived together in a house on a knoll
And every day he fucked her in her tracheotomy hole
(Until one day he killed her ’cause that’s more brutal)

9/09
Crackwhore Ninja Squadron

Crackwhore ninja squadron (x4)

There once was an alien pimp
His name was Quantum G
He came to earth in a karma rebirth
To give this planet insanity
He went to the CIA headquarters
For special alien crack
And he set up a whorehouse at the corner by your house
And planned for his attack

Quantum G got lots of ho's
Addicted to his stuff
And yet he tried to teach them
Ninjistu to be tough

They didn’t get as good at ninjistu as he planned
But they were so crazed on alien crack
They could rip apart people with their bare hands
And the ho's said…

“I want a rock—I want a rock of crack”

He gave them order to kill
And cause mayhem to earn their thrill
They killed and didn’t stop
Men, women and children—they killed their way to the top


And when they’d killed all the world leader ladies and guys
Quantum G took control of the earth as his prize
He now own Microsoft, Wal-Mart and your City Hall
He’s a pimp but he simply knows he owes it all
To the

Crackwhore ninja squadron