Tangent

Tangent #6395

Folder: 
Tangents

Tangent #6395

“You've labeled me insane, though I am the one who uses his brain.”

Dumbasses and I am surrounded by them. Everywhere I look, like a zombie plague. They speak yet say nothing, walk and go no where. How else would they accept their slavery so openly?
We are living in insane times. An epic tragedy of a dream we so willingly trashed because we grew lazy and ignorant. Huddled in a corner with your scraps, listening and believing what they tell you. As long as you do not have to think right? As long as you are distracted by meaningless entertainment that helps keep you lulled into that sedative trance, that false belief that you are actually free. I often see a vary real similarity between a Zoo and the human race as a whole.
You could be robbed blind, catch the thief red handed and still convince yourself otherwise. If it's not front page news it does not become worthy of your time. Going about your lives hopped up on legal speed, often walking over those you love or care about just to climb that ladder of success. God help those who stand in their way, an ego who has devoured their vary soul. It has become human nature, to reach the top at any means necessary right? When I look out across the ocean of the ignorant masses, the ones who at a whole manifest this reality we live in. All the bigots, and assholes of society who unknowingly projects this nasty corrupt vibration across open space. I see a sickness so grotesque that is the cancer of man and their arrogance could only be described as “insane” and yet I am the one who is labeled crazy. I want to believe there is still hope for us. That out of this storm heroes will rise up, then I find myself questioning if it is even worth saving anymore. Have we the self proclaimed smartest creatures in the galaxy manged to screw things up so bad we cannot fix it?

That old Stone;

Walking down the creek bed, I came across an old stone.
Reaching down I picked it up and wondered what it has known.
Has it seen tragedy? Has it seen creation?
Does it even know the beauty to behold the setting of the sun?
That old stone, oh the secrets it has known.

Time has a way of reminding us of our failures,
the mistakes and regrets that scar for our troubles.
To live in the moment, to forget for a moment
that this old stone is simply a rock. What if it could talk
what would it say? To have known every day?

I take that old stone and skip it across the water,
and once again my mind begins to wonder.
If for only a moment in time,
moving forward leaving it all behind.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I know I retired my "Tangents" a while back ago, however this one has been brewing up for awhile now. So I've decided to dust off the folder and create one more! I know I could have put it under my "Discourse" (the bastard child of my Tangents) however as choppy and raw as this piece is, it deserves to be a Tangent for it hits home on a few subjects that have been bothering me a lot..... Hope you enjoy and as always love to hear feedback!!

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Debt, Slavery, Bondage, Control, and pawns with no power.

“Debt, Slavery, Bondage, Control, and pawns with no power.”
~*~

"You there, bow before your king, your elected ruler and emperor. Do not forget to pay your penitence. Now how many your lord help you today "peasant". My farm, my crops they have succumb to the critters and destroyed over half of my field my Lord.

Kiss his hand, a whisper echos into the farmer kneeling before the king in all his rags. and sure enough he reached up and kissed the "treasure" wrapped in his fat fingers. So what is it you wish from your ruler? The poor man spoke in fear, My family is starving, my children are growing sick, and my wife, their mom passed away last winter. It's a war, to keep from falling under and finding myself waking up in an ally way. War!? WAR!? the King looked agitated by that very word. Do you not understand my poor farmer, that you know nothing of war, Without it there is no empire.
I will make you a deal farmer, Since I your ruler am feeling generous today, I shall let you keep 1% of your yield. After all you must as patriot to our great nation support our fight over seas. How does that sound? It's fair right? The emperor pressed on.
I....I....I suppose you are right, after all This is my land and I must protect it even if that mean giving up my land to allow this. See I know you had it in you, Now those crops are not going to be planting themselves now are they? best be going and getting the winter harvest ready, I am sure the townsfolk will greatly appreciate all of your hard work. Don't worry I am sure sally will save you a plate of corn, after all we cannot let our benefactor go without tasting his own creation. Enjoy now."

"Debt = Slavery / Bondage = Control / Pawns = 'Power'"

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My mind can often be a trap, and sometimes I am lucky enough to be able to get them down.

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Discourse #2

 

Discourse # 2

                    We are lost, children of gods, children of sins. Searching for answers in a text book of mistakes and that of failure, a world gone mad. We close ourselves off to the world outside, Strangers pass like cars on the highway. Never willing to accept an idea or thought that might jeopardize their own reality, their own paradigm. The rich and the poor alike will lay eyes to the ivory towers of desolation. Marching head on into the void of oblivion. Oh child of greed, victim to the tides of mortal desires, prey to the self righteous, blood meal for their morbid devices. We are the living, the breathing testimonies to the Angels and the demons that spawn the myths and the legends.

                   We truly are the children of gods, the power we posses yet cannot obtain. For it lies right before our vary eyes like a magicians trick it vanishes under the cloak of illusion. We each hold a piece, like a key to the lock that binds us in ignorance. 'An intelligent being is not what we are but rather defines us as who we are

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Discourse #1

 

Discourse # 1

                We flow ever more closer to our own destruction, riding the wave that is our own undoing. We rape, and murder. Pillaging our way ahead, our empire in ash, roads in ruin as we march forward. Children of chaos, children of the Apocalypse watching it unfold before their eyes through a shiny box, no longer recognizing their own reflections. Deliver the final blow, cripple their reserves and then when they least expect it demolish any hope to flee, to escape. To secure victory, sacrifice decency all in the name of glory, under the ruse of safety. There shall be no freedom to be had, only iron and chains. Shackles that will be sought. Then when the fog of confusion settles and the blood on the field dries, the silent cries will be heard. Echoing the pain across the lifeless wastes.

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