Homogenised identityA curd festers on the top of a glassFloating above the homogenisedSamenessDefeated individualismRelative existenceRelative and pointingAt the curdRelative to the curdHomogenised identityFighting to sink
We Will All Know PovertyHearts fooled, fouled, fullArteries throb, clogged with shadowsWith truth, no room for the otherWho is demandingWho is beggingThe self, cut in twoThe self can seeNo more truthClogged with shadowsMirror shardsThe good lifeAll needing nowGorging on each otherBecoming the otherPoverty, the bifurcation of selfA well heart wealth
Under A Gibbous MoonIt was a dark evening, the light of a starkly gibbous moon shone ominously onto a lone Arkham building. A place rooted firmly into one of the more undesirable districts of that cursed city. The light trickled through into its Georgian interior, as if afraid of the dancing shadows it threw forward like devilish spectres. The pointed ears and peaked form of something alien to the world were cast darkly onto Howard Phillip Lovecraft by the softly tortured light. He sat reading the "The Cask of Amontillado", muttering to himself, strange musings punctuated by the curling of his lips. The cat's shadow disappeared and the scene seemed twisted for a moment, silent but for the screams of another world that could be heard echoing in the dark circuitous passageways of his mind. Lovecraft stared stoically at the aged paper before him, pensive as he ignored this all too familiar experience. He closed the book, self indulgent self hatred and adoration of his erstwhile peer an
Beauty in the contraryThere is beauty in the contrary.The off beats of appreciation are not wantonTo those found wanting.In the jazz of life, They offer an escape from the machinations of our conducting oppressors.A personal oppressor we all know well. A violin that shrieks high andCuts at the beauty of melody,Nothing but an escape from the prescientVision of pre-destiny. There is a remedy.There is always a remedy. An escapeFrom the inevitable end we areOfferedIn the madness of the ecstatic heart heavy dance.Release your burdens and seeWhat the enlightenment brings.
Whatever Happened to Forever?WhateverHappened to Forever? ForeverA word moaned all to often. Careless sacrilege,CheapenedBy those who don't understand. How longForever? Two months. Less.Meaning transitory,Forever nowTransitory. Instead say 'I cannot see greener grass at this point in time' or'Insufficient data to compute new scenarios'. Too many Tin menWith rusty hearts, not enoughScared lions. RiskA factor we avoid, but long for. PeopleDo not ignore meaning, butSubjective thoughts offer no comfort to a cog in the machine. System error, fatal crash, error 113, reboot, reinstall. One cog can break a machine, be that cog.Not falling for foolish security.
The InitiationOne quiet afternoon a mystic closed his eyes; he meditated on the veil and wished it would be lifted. On setting his mind to this task he thought, "Will I die? Is that the sacrifice I need to make?". To this thought the void answered "Yes, you must die". The mystic recoiled at the thought of oblivion and dismissed it as a construct of his own mind, and that of his ego attempting to impose order onto something unknown."What coin can you pay me with if all you have is illusionary?" asked the void, to which the mystic thought "Everything I have is an illusion and has no value in the light of the lifted veil". Deprived of the privacy afforded by the inner-monologue a reply came, "Yes, you are correct, so with what coin shall you pay me to lift the veil" the void again asked. The mystic fell into a deeper meditation and thought to themselves "If nothing I have has any value, then the knowledge of this must be the true value I am to pay with", to which the v