You think of life as a journey. As some sort of cosmic interloper where you constantly weigh the value of your actions. It is heralded as a journey, yet ends up being a song of regret, filled with sorrow and constant regret.
Some would argue with this statement, this bold statement of nihilism, but in fact it rings true. This is a world built on borrowed time, with little thought of future actions or effect. We are the anti-Buddhists. This world, made up of righteous lives and even greater misery, reflects on our right to self destruction. We revel in the right to destruction and suffering. We are, in essence, the culprit in our own destruction.
I have seen wars waged over greed and anger. I have seen the countless millions funneled out, and those with the will to make humanity stronger falter at the simple act of stacking bills in exchange for their integrity. This creates the world of hopeless cynics, for all cynics were once born revolutionary idealists.
We are a world alone. Without thought and reason, we trudge through life seeking endless meanings to questions we once thought important.
We even have the right to postulate without concept, or whine without conviction.
This is a generation of lost souls.
I yearn for armageddon.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Monday, September 15, 2008
#2
I think, little girl, that your eyes are nice
Your smile is bright and your jeans are tight
And I'm thinking of trying to bring you home
But you're from Toronto babe
Which means you're not from here
Or somewhere near
And somehow you still seem that way
Because whatever made you seem special
You left at that single traffic light town
And traded it in for a trendy space and a smaller face
But hey, Toronto is a big place
And you'll fit right in
With your silent sins
And wish everything could be as dark as those country roads back home
To hide your tears at night
Your smile is bright and your jeans are tight
And I'm thinking of trying to bring you home
But you're from Toronto babe
Which means you're not from here
Or somewhere near
And somehow you still seem that way
Because whatever made you seem special
You left at that single traffic light town
And traded it in for a trendy space and a smaller face
But hey, Toronto is a big place
And you'll fit right in
With your silent sins
And wish everything could be as dark as those country roads back home
To hide your tears at night
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
#1
As I watched from the balcony
I saw that God across the street
Looking damp from the rain
Had put out a sign near the yellow X's
It was a garage sale
Apparently he was cleaning house
Even God has sh*t that he can't relate to
I saw that God across the street
Looking damp from the rain
Had put out a sign near the yellow X's
It was a garage sale
Apparently he was cleaning house
Even God has sh*t that he can't relate to
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