Make it
Write
Poems
by Dave, age 14
dissterbd.
compilation of mast-r-works by ?
suppressing the
opposite inside
"Freedom is the prevarication of one?s inner
self
following the suppression of the opposite inside. "
often when I talk
I am not sure I am really talking.
often when I think,
I am not sure I am really thinking.
this plague of my inner self
dares to control my life
yet I cannot control my thoughts
and I refuse to let it take over.
I do not know why this
opposite inside is present,
nor am I powerful enough to find out.
it turns my life inside out
so that I no longer know
what I inquire,
and I no longer feel
what I fear.
the opposite inside
is not the composite outside
since thoughtful expression
is illegal
and
negligent suppression
is the law of everyday life.
my opposite inside
can no longer express but has to
suppress,
can no longer think, but has to
ignore,
can no longer show, but has to hide.
is that the beauty of life?
suppression on demand
expression on relinquishment?
NO!
one?s true beauty is one?s inner self.
But?
what if that inner self is independent?
what if that inner self desires freedom?
what if that inner self is exactly what nobody
wants?
who are you
to question the values
of self prevarication and mendacity,
when you know that
individual choices are irrelevant
and the Mutual Mentality
is responsible for
the suppression of the opposite inside?
one does not seek the truth: the
opposite inside,
one desires the lies: the composite
outside
and the equivocation is more prominent
than veracity and honesty towards oneself
as well as others.
"That, my friend, is true Freedom!"
li(f)e.
a flicker of light
a moment so frivolous and insignificant
one may fail to see its value
to the eternity of the soul
a momentous spark of vision
I am alive
so what?
another individual occupant
of the edifice
then nothing
blurred vision hinders me to
see the past while experiencing
the future.
I do not know why and I am not prepared
to question this philosophy
the abstinence of my soul
complete and tranquil innocence
never experienced
of course there is always a first time
born without legs infelicitously
suddenly a gift.
simple yet adequate
for future experiences
castigated and scolded
crying yelling screwing or screaming
keeping everyone up all night
my voice, or rather tones,
that so annoyingly manage to
protrude everyone?s ignorance so eloquently
evolution.
my voice my thoughts my expressions
I have learned now.
yet appropriateness is still being questioned
and I still have not learned this art
of discretion of my thoughts.
school.
why? aren't I perfect?
how can I be possibly improved upon?
this useless edification with which
I am forced to live with and acknowledge
so bitterly and in vain.
the present
so confusing and agitating
still having knowledge forced
into my thick yet pregnable skull.
the future
is there one for me
or will I just end up toiling and working?
what the real truth behind this education
actually is:
slaving for the system that so
powerfully manages to control us all.
slaving till I die so eloquently
being placed in my very own grave
along with eternal peace of my mind and soul
exploring the tranquillity behind life.
perhaps.
of course.
The
System
- another wholesome day
in the institution
the system controls me
holds me back so exquisitely
excoriate the system that so
profoundly powerfully
controls my actions thoughts desires
- I cannot prove to myself
that I am actually
wholly
in control
of myself
my inner self
sitting there expressionless
holding back my will to
yawn from the previous
night of slaving at the desk
concentrating, yes concentrating
instead of just relaxing so generously
another double
- Why am I being put through this
constant tormenting of my soul
when all I desire is eternal freedom
of my body and soul?
how often have I heard this?
I?ve lost count
since this desire is present
in all souls not preoccupied
with the dementia of
alcoholism
- not the alcoholism that
you may know, but
alcoholism
of energy lust and desideratum
for the turmoil of pain
sadomasochism-masochism
that so generously fills us up
with the continuity to work
- attempting to look interested
when all I want is a simple
gift to humankind:
eternal rest and relaxation
of my soul that has endured
the torment of the upper system,
that has so wonderfully endured
and managed to succeed
- yes. I desire this element
of my mental stability
helping me in the succession
of my soul.
Homework. threethirty a.m.
god no, not again!
The remainder just
a blur. a quick sketch of my
temporarily uneventful life
- concentrating focusing thinking
wondering why I slaved through
the night so eloquently and obediently
when I could have ignored this
code like so many companions
and managed to succeed anyways
the end. so short sudden
a blast
a stagger
an uttering of freedom
a split-second of peace
until I finally manage to
pass through and transfer
- my soul to a better place
when my brain already
is in a liquid state
and I am too wrinkled to
experience happiness in my
current state
- Familiar
Ignominy
- uncles were always heroes
what about mine
so narcissistic in every way
awaiting his worshipping
on behalf of others
how disgusting can he be
to order me to acknowledge
the certain sense of unity
his body experiences
everything works together on this
tainted evil which I refuse
to partake in
due to the endless amount
of pain I have endured
by watching him commit
these savage acts
acts that may appear usual to others
but to me it is the torturing
of the iconoclastic enterprise
that dares to pester my hard working
kind and giving uncle
who so cleverly employs the souls
of the lost to put his machine to work
the machine of evil
trying to pass of as
an innovative dementia
that is inaugurated in his work
which so many admire
in a sick and contorted way
that I hate to see
this ignominy
this ignominy
that pesters me!
why am I filled with his
dread in my veins
in my veins that are so
openly flaring pulsating breathing
with the evils of his
work
- I am tortured
I am sworn
yet I have not experienced
such ignorance on part
of his mourn
his sorrowful mourn for the death of death
the birth of birth
and the worshipping of Satan
which he decides to judge
pessimistically in a way
that encourages me to think
of his simplistic views
and to challenge his ordeals as
a man
the machine
have I told myself about it
or am I suffering with the jealousy
of a thousand pins in Lenin?s head
which, I may tell you, cannot be judged
so harshly
as we all know that the machine
that has crafted my uncle
before my uncle crafted it
may simply represent
a porthole
a porthole to the past
the unforgiving past
which I may so proudly point out
can dissolve my uncle and retrieve my
desire for this exquisite little
piece of art
or junk
whichever I may prefer
crafting the machine
of my uncle?s sinister
dementia of the soul.
Awry Evening
- crackling fire in the evening
warm moist air in the
hot summer time
god I love this place!
morocco.
one more week until
I will once more enjoy
the unity of family
but until then there?s
only anguish for me
sitting there, darkness
settling over my apartment
reading over the completed papers
of my occupation that I
have so gracefully constructed
in the midst of worry and
desperation.
why this perturbation
when I can enjoy the
peaceful synthesis
of my mind and soul
without obstructing views
interfering with this
image of myself in harmony?
one more week I tell you
until my heart is satisfied
and once more I am free to
live without this worry
this plague of my mind
that has so curiously implanted
itself in my brain causing me
to experience this senility.
I do not even know if I am missed
or at least remembered
will they remember?
Why yes, I have always been so
generous!
have I really?
leaving my son alone at night
to go out and have fun over long
periods.
- will I be forgiven
or will I be forced to exonerate
them for this eternal antipathy
I experience so benevolently
towards this paranoia of the mentality
one more week.
yes I can endure
but will I be sane, will I still love
or will I be the heartless monster
that I myself feared on those Friday
nights smelling the liquor, hearing
the loud music?
this evening is so moist
and hot in a comfortable way
not too jarring for my soul
this eternal peace
or is it Styx?
of my phlegmatic mentality.
dissterbd.
1997:
you-see-see
Untitled
excoriate
the system
we do not need it
what we need is a revolution,
yes revolution is desired by our society
that can no longer think due to the despair and
misleading confusion
and yes, propaganda,
propaganda that has withdrawn our souls
from our bodies is a sick and demented nature
troubles us all for which the system is responsible.
utopia has us all withdrawn from society
and the relinquishment of everyday suffering.
we hate but can?t ignore
rivers of crimson constantly flowing from our severed
wrists
and eternity and freedom
no restraints, boundaries
a nonanarchistic heaven protruded through our minds.
heaven of rebellious idealistic communists desiring
freedom and equality
yet ignorance is present that cannot be extinguished
dying with the body.
utopia won?t prove to be vexatious.
we don?t need the system that crafts these
constraints, this communism of our souls
that is so confusingly unequal and yet so precious
for the organization of our government.
I say excoriate the government, the eternal hell: the
prison of our souls
pulling us back from our desired needs.
we do not need this hell we desire freedom
a certain sense of anarchy that leads to inner
prosperity
soothing the red burning insides
that were caused by the constant rules, regulations,
discipline, code
preventing ?harmful? interference with the wavelength of
the government
it corresponds with Satan himself who some of us may
worship and hate at the same time.
this confusion does not affect the brainwashed cultivated
unaware
and yet so ironically enlightened projects of hell that
do not understand the pain.
out we go into utopia, rivers of crimson draining from
our so exquisitely empty bodies
filling the world with laughter understanding the
monotonous nature and regulations
of the people above us and below god and yet so far
away.
now they?re happy they do not wish to have us pretending
to care
but yet secretly waiting, waiting for us to leave to our
own world.
then we understand the consequences but its too late we
have to live with that,
or rather die as our body is drained of our soul:
our blood
our rebelliousness
our anarchistic views
our iconoclastic nature
our so remarkably empty thoughts
robbed of our power our once-in-a-second
forever lasting scars on the illegal perfection the
government has tricked us with.
we do not wish to leave the perfect plan of the
government without these scars,
these scars that will make them remember that they do not
have the power,
we do.
Proletarian
Prophylactic TM
one does not need to know
why their money is being wasted
when one knows it is for a good
cause
that is why many people
question the sense of their money
being dragged away from their
fists so tightly clenched
by towers one may only look
up at
the downside would only
be the presentation of
society in a relinquished
state where they no longer stand
to have pride
but the government which
they had so cleverly selected
is here for a beneficiary cause
although that cause has not yet
been discovered
one questions the values of this
absolute thievery extortion and
corruption without first taking
into account the Styx that society
has built for itself.
you should not wish for the inevitable,
but rather take stand in this fight against
corruption and overpowerment.
the time is now and you will not
be able to have another chance
what do you do?
What Do You Do?
This is not an answerable
question since corruption
is not a solvable product
insurrectionary radical views
have now defeated our purpose
to prevention
and have been instituted in the society.
"Revolution is Now"
as many had said
the government cannot
be defeated; one cannot
defeat Satan who so cleverly
has society addicted to
this prominent economic
party not in a sense of joy
but rather in the harsh realization
of the continuation of the evils
in our society.
society is confused
the time is right
the government
must go
we shall not live in terror
and fear being forced
to pay for an unappreciable cause
and be imprisoned
for our rebellious
yet quite ordinary nature
do not allow this force
to control you
since you are submitting
yourself to
unnecessary control
over you entire life
as you may perish in the attempt
to recover once it is
Too Late.
dissterbd.
1997:
you-see-see
|
