My father once told me that existence precedes essence. In other words every mans dream has the potential of substance, that everything infinite was possible so long as the body allowed it. I was told that dark waters are truly bottomless in the pure mind. As wise as these words seem and very well may be doubt clouds any changed perception that could be gained. How can one have any faith when the shepherds of todays society are leading us to the slaughter, that being the erasure of the emotions that let us exist. Realistically their is little danger of physical harm which seems to be the only things people will retaliate against anymore. Survival has become a game of russian roulette with a thousand round revolver, it may take some time but someone will eventually get hurt. Now my question to those who constantly doubt and fret is why. Why are you content with waiting for this world to become volatile before admitting to yourselves that you're neck deep in your own shit, your ship has sunk and somehow continues sinking. This is not a complex matter, I'm not asking you to see the forest through the trees. All you need to do is take a look at your own shoes, how many people have been trampled beneath them. Can't you see the blood? You are the hate that lives inside, this web you weave is the blood you bleed.
The lunatics go forth and multiply, magnetize and dehumanize to the beat of a strangers drum. The pieces collect to create the colossus that is reality. The colossus goes forth and creates this reality based on its concept of utopian dreams. Then the inevitable will of people finds its own dreams to be flawed and tears itself in half. The colossus divides in hope of happiness only to create more of the very thing it sought to escape. What happens then is once again inevitable, the different entitles seek a new utopia with a new undeniable truth. The giants decide that destruction is the only way of creating happiness. In order to spur their herds to war they paint a picture of unhappiness and injustice, the picture creates a wall and the wall creates an unknown. The unknown casts its shadow on the masses and creates paranoia at its worst. The shadow finds its way into every mans mind and makes him fear for his own well being. This is when we reach the point of no return, when the unstoppable force meets the immovable object. The shadow grows fangs and claws, it gnaws and tears, mangling both truths until they're unrecognizable. So in the end the only mode of creation known to humanity is total destruction, but how many times can you stab before the blood stops flowing? Others opt to transform the colossus thinking they've chosen the lesser of two evils. They don't inflict harm and yet they still destroy. They promise a world of perpetual illumination in a land of clouds, a flawless happiness. Man in its insatiable greed follows the new truth. They tear apart family and friends, turn their minds on each other.
Then one day someone opens their eyes for the first time and see's the atrocity mans greed has wrought. He realizes that we don't need change, we don't need more light. The only thing we need is to exist in the dark, you'll find that light never existed and it never made you better. You'll find that happiness can't be sought or contained. Their is no sunshine in your pocket, no truth to be sought, no religion or creed will bring you it. No amount of violence will change your brother and no change will fix what was never broken. You can create your placebo society and dictate your individual normality's. I know you will continue to mend the wounds you've earned. Turn your backs and point your greedy fingers at whoever you've labeled the terrorist for the time being. Preach your ways of righteousness, build us your ivory towers to seduce our eyes. You will mercilessly beat us down, this is the only truth that treads water anymore. You will create my world only to devour it. I know your hand extended in acceptance will eventually curl into a tight fist, and I know the knife behind your back is very sharp. When your truth is murdered by another, when your tower falls, when your enemy becomes your conqueror perhaps you will see. Maybe you'll see that the starving child halfway around the world could have been saved.
IF you hadn't labeled that stranger as the enemy. If you hadn't preached to the world of atrocities in a land you've never seen about a people that you could never know. A genocide could have been avoided, an culture could flourish. A mother could still have the hand that was chopped off for trying to steal food for her child. The child could have lived. Whats laughable now is that your telling yourself that it wasn't you. You could never have known, you didn't pull the trigger. And you're probably right, you did nothing. You sat comfy on the American dream, and you've been rewarded for that by the powers that be. The idols you consider omnipotent have the flashlight, and you're the dog chasing it in circles and waging its tail. You sat for hours on end watching the television, you saw stories on the news of all the madness in the world. You knew the bombs were falling. You manicured your lawns, bought designer clothes, you even have a two car garage when you have only one car, where else would you put all the shit you don't need. (I'm speaking in generality). White picket fences, two kids and one dog, gardens for the tending. Diamonds, mastercards, oil, anti depressants, mtv, could you be running away any faster. The men with the plastic smiles, the very ones you follow, they want you fat and content. We've been trapped in a pretty little snow globe with a pretty little world. They subscribe us a concept of happiness, they tell us this is happiness, normality. As soon as we subscribe to this concept of normality we die. We learn to run on their concepts of emotions, they tell you what is unique and creative and you accept it as truth. Normality only extends as far as your personal colossus can reach, and when you reach that point you become the the freak. Thats when you become feared for reasons unknown to both you and the man who fears you. Then you'll run away from that unknown to your world where you'll continue running towards another unknown. You'll chase the flashlight until you die a scarecrow, made of stuffing and false contentment. And you like it that way, because they tell you its safe. Men with plastered on smiles would never lie for their own benefit right? Musicians sing songs about retaliation, writers carve eloquent and rational theories into our minds, painters create the picturesque world we dream of. We take all this in, we call them visionaries, we label their work as beautiful and possibly even revolutionary. We are inspired. But what happens when you turn your back and go home dreaming of a better world, does your passion ever come to fruition? You decide to subscribe to the concept of hope. We spend our todays dreaming of our tomorrows, we spend our tomorrows dreaming of our yesterdays. You leave the glass hanging vicariously on the edge of the table and all you need to do is give it a little nudge. But you don't. You wait for someone to do it first don't you? We seem to forget that someone already has, you remember the visionaries, they live with the hope of a better world and they're not the only ones. In this world where our idols, our gods and our governments, are clawing at each others throats in the name of a greater good, who is just? We've seen the plastic smiles because were the ones wearing them. We know the shadows live because we built the walls. You know your running and you can see that your no closer to what you seek. So why do you run before you crawl, hate before you love. Live and let live seems only fit. You can start by never starting at all, happiness is as simple as opening your eyes. The man with the knife could have been a friend if you had let him. The maze could have paper thin walls if you had built it that way. The mass graves could have been a thriving village if you hadn't created that one word. You could have been free if a stranger hadn't put you in a snow globe world. The stranger would have been happy if he never knew what how to curl his fist. The soldier could come home his family if you had shed you indifference to the starving child worlds away. Humanities fatal flaw is its incapability to challenge itself to overcome the singular importance of its own existence. The glass is their for the tipping, is it really that difficult? As for me, I'll be the nothing to your everything. You can call me abnormal for the way I think, that is if you can ever tell me the definition of normality. I'll continue to color outside the lines and revel in the fact that I'm as defective the men the world told me was perfect. I will be happy for the simple fact such a thing can exist.