Franklin Waters
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jun 30, 2010
- Messages
- 68
ORIENTATION
"Welcome kid, welcome to America..
Congrats on makin' it here and all, it's a really grand place,
it takes a bit o' gettin' used to,
but you'll get settled in I promise.
How should I begin? I know, I'll tell ya all about
the whole politics idea. You know,
yer basic political spectrum, voting, patriotism and whatnot.
Now, when yer born,
the first thing they do is cut off a little piece o' yer pecker--
yeah, I know, it's--of course they throw it away.
Anyway, they cut it off, because in this country,
the government's job is to limit the choices of the people
so that there can be more freedom...sorta...it's really
an abstract type o' thing, takes a lotta thinking to truly
figure it out.
Now look to yer left.
Ya see all them dancin' & drinkin',
just all a-congregated in that little corner there
with their guitars, complainin' of the heat--
it really is quite hot in here--
offerin' each other money
as they play little ditties, but
most o' the time they refuse it--they believe
that money ain't that important--
yeah, those over there are just yer basic
Commie pinko socialist baby-killin' freedom-hatin' liberals.
Now to yer right,
you'll see a buncha brothers wearin' red-white-an'-blue,
takin' turns shootin' birds, drivin' nice cars, cuttin' down trees
an' a-beheadin' all the felons,
all huddled in the churchyard, sayin',
"This country is too damn cold!" wearin' them
'patriotic' scarves, Freedomfries hangin'
out their mouths...them are the typical
Nazi fascist totalitarian Earth-ruinin' freedom-hatin' conservatives.
Yer either left or right, kid.
Find yer crowd, be a success, make money, do what ya want most of all--
that's what freedom is,
basically.
Don't ever deviate from the system,
or else we're gonna have problems.
Remember: the less questioning ya do,
the better of a man you are.
Good luck, my friend.
UNTITLED (155)
The Earth swiftly turns
as the Life-Candle burns
and Time sneaks away with the hours;
Each single breath
is a countdown to Death,
and the funeral's tossing of flowers.
NOT MEANT TO KNOW (158)
Maybe we weren't meant to know--
whoever's up there,
connecting the cord between our world and his or hers,
is being awfully sneaky about this whole thing.
As if Existence were a back-alley drug deal
and we were the cops...must not discover
the Truth.
As if he or she
didn't want rumors circulating about
the true nature of Reality..."You didn't hear this
from me, but..."
But what?
What do we have to rely on
in this game of Chaos?
Taupin put it best--we're candles in the wind--
whichever way the gust is going,
we swing along,
go with the flow.
What is there to say?
After terrorist attacks, bank robberies, nuclear wars,
the Holocaust, slaveries, forest fires, bombings?
What is there to say?
After Woodstock, Armistice Day, free love,
Blowin' In The Wind, marijuana, the Renaissance, the 1960s?
What is there to say?
Are you good or evil?
Am I good or evil?
Is anyone good or evil?
No earthly formula could possibly answer these questions.
No human mind could devise a logical explanation
of the universe and its ambiguous happenings.
But what's logical?
Logic is material; without it,
there'd be no 64-piece puzzles,
no capitalism, no organization,
and most of all,
no questioning.
And maybe that's a good thing.
Maybe by asking the world our questions,
we're barking up the wrong tree.
The whole of Life and Existence
is a puzzle, the pieces of which
have fallen victim to various fates.
Some, by the hands of the Creator,
were scattered recklessly across the floor.
Some were lost over the years.
Some were never there to begin with.
So naturally, we can't put this puzzle together.
And that's a good thing;
there are some things
we just weren't meant to know.
UNTITLED (159)
Not to subtract from your masculine pride,
but you aren't supreme just for having thick hide.
I am as smart as your shoulders are wide,
and know that the world has consistently lied:
yes, you are handsome; yes, you are strong;
you and the crowd might always get along;
but that doesn't mean that you cannot be wrong;
if the wise ruled this world, you would not make it long.
Your pockets are full and your clothes are well-chosen,
but your ego is swollen and your brains are all frozen.
In Intellect Class, you're in the back dozing.
You try to act wise but you clearly are posing.
You have been taught that your type is elite;
that have-nots were made to be kissing your feet;
that you are above all the bums in the street;
that you are inherently perfect and sweet.
Your muscular build and your upper arm's girth,
your fortunate life from the time of your birth,
your concrete possessions, your pieces of earth--
do you ever wonder what all of it's worth?
"Welcome kid, welcome to America..
Congrats on makin' it here and all, it's a really grand place,
it takes a bit o' gettin' used to,
but you'll get settled in I promise.
How should I begin? I know, I'll tell ya all about
the whole politics idea. You know,
yer basic political spectrum, voting, patriotism and whatnot.
Now, when yer born,
the first thing they do is cut off a little piece o' yer pecker--
yeah, I know, it's--of course they throw it away.
Anyway, they cut it off, because in this country,
the government's job is to limit the choices of the people
so that there can be more freedom...sorta...it's really
an abstract type o' thing, takes a lotta thinking to truly
figure it out.
Now look to yer left.
Ya see all them dancin' & drinkin',
just all a-congregated in that little corner there
with their guitars, complainin' of the heat--
it really is quite hot in here--
offerin' each other money
as they play little ditties, but
most o' the time they refuse it--they believe
that money ain't that important--
yeah, those over there are just yer basic
Commie pinko socialist baby-killin' freedom-hatin' liberals.
Now to yer right,
you'll see a buncha brothers wearin' red-white-an'-blue,
takin' turns shootin' birds, drivin' nice cars, cuttin' down trees
an' a-beheadin' all the felons,
all huddled in the churchyard, sayin',
"This country is too damn cold!" wearin' them
'patriotic' scarves, Freedomfries hangin'
out their mouths...them are the typical
Nazi fascist totalitarian Earth-ruinin' freedom-hatin' conservatives.
Yer either left or right, kid.
Find yer crowd, be a success, make money, do what ya want most of all--
that's what freedom is,
basically.
Don't ever deviate from the system,
or else we're gonna have problems.
Remember: the less questioning ya do,
the better of a man you are.
Good luck, my friend.
UNTITLED (155)
The Earth swiftly turns
as the Life-Candle burns
and Time sneaks away with the hours;
Each single breath
is a countdown to Death,
and the funeral's tossing of flowers.
NOT MEANT TO KNOW (158)
Maybe we weren't meant to know--
whoever's up there,
connecting the cord between our world and his or hers,
is being awfully sneaky about this whole thing.
As if Existence were a back-alley drug deal
and we were the cops...must not discover
the Truth.
As if he or she
didn't want rumors circulating about
the true nature of Reality..."You didn't hear this
from me, but..."
But what?
What do we have to rely on
in this game of Chaos?
Taupin put it best--we're candles in the wind--
whichever way the gust is going,
we swing along,
go with the flow.
What is there to say?
After terrorist attacks, bank robberies, nuclear wars,
the Holocaust, slaveries, forest fires, bombings?
What is there to say?
After Woodstock, Armistice Day, free love,
Blowin' In The Wind, marijuana, the Renaissance, the 1960s?
What is there to say?
Are you good or evil?
Am I good or evil?
Is anyone good or evil?
No earthly formula could possibly answer these questions.
No human mind could devise a logical explanation
of the universe and its ambiguous happenings.
But what's logical?
Logic is material; without it,
there'd be no 64-piece puzzles,
no capitalism, no organization,
and most of all,
no questioning.
And maybe that's a good thing.
Maybe by asking the world our questions,
we're barking up the wrong tree.
The whole of Life and Existence
is a puzzle, the pieces of which
have fallen victim to various fates.
Some, by the hands of the Creator,
were scattered recklessly across the floor.
Some were lost over the years.
Some were never there to begin with.
So naturally, we can't put this puzzle together.
And that's a good thing;
there are some things
we just weren't meant to know.
UNTITLED (159)
Not to subtract from your masculine pride,
but you aren't supreme just for having thick hide.
I am as smart as your shoulders are wide,
and know that the world has consistently lied:
yes, you are handsome; yes, you are strong;
you and the crowd might always get along;
but that doesn't mean that you cannot be wrong;
if the wise ruled this world, you would not make it long.
Your pockets are full and your clothes are well-chosen,
but your ego is swollen and your brains are all frozen.
In Intellect Class, you're in the back dozing.
You try to act wise but you clearly are posing.
You have been taught that your type is elite;
that have-nots were made to be kissing your feet;
that you are above all the bums in the street;
that you are inherently perfect and sweet.
Your muscular build and your upper arm's girth,
your fortunate life from the time of your birth,
your concrete possessions, your pieces of earth--
do you ever wonder what all of it's worth?
