To be ‘enlightened’ you must first realise that enlightenment is bullshit in the first place.
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We romanticize heroism. It’s in pretty much every story there has ever been.
When someone dies we stick a ‘heroism’ narrative onto their story. We tell people that person was great and their strength in the end was ‘impressive’ and ‘inspiring’
The more I hear this stuff the more I realize It’s empty.
Not only does it hold up an image that no one can live up to.
But It’s not even true. No one chooses to be ‘heroic’
I mean think about it! If a child has loads of surgeries what do they get told over and over? “Aw you’re so brave! I don’t think I could have done that!” Yes you fucking could.
And I’ll tell you why, because you have no choice in the matter. It’s not heroism. It’s lack of choice.
Do you think when I was a kid I was stoically sat there like, “Oh it’s just another heart surgery, but I can make it. I’m tough stuff me!” No! I didn’t have a choice. Things were just done.
Heroism is the biggest myth we’ve told ourselves.
Many people have turned away from old myths about gods and the like.
But no one it seems, is able to, is ready to, leave their hero myths behind.
Even as I say that, I find it hard to detach myself from the idea of heroism. I can think of characters in stories that I’ve admired and still can’t help but cling to an admiration of. Certain people come to mind. And it’s hard to let go and say, “Actually this heroism stuff is bullshit.”
I get it. It *feels* inspiring, at least in the moment.
But it’s an empty myth. We repeat ad nauseam. But we’re also trapped into it.
I don’t think a story can exist and be interesting without some heroic element involved.
Can we ever move beyond heroism?
And as a paradox, could the bravest most heroic thing we ever do be to move on from heroism myths?
All these thoughts swim
Till they run
Words become undone
The thoughts gone
But the feelings remain
Without a name
And then a new thought
Falls into view
Only to fall away
Before you really knew
And the feeling grows
But the words, you do not know
And you wonder
The letters of the thoughts
Empty promises ricochet
Between the stone walls
The sound of squeaking shoes
On polished floors
Haunting this place
Full of laughter and evil
Paint on the walls
Dripping with humiliation
Seeped through all the years
A stain on hearts and minds
A reminder that life
Chills to the bones
Still… I sit
Against the wind
And I wish I could
Sit against it all
Water off a ducks back
Withstand every fall
Without falling to the black
But the whispers of the dark
Always beckon me back
And I know her well
So I’m always one word away
From being under her spell
I’ve tried meditation
All the fucking medication
Tried to find my philosophy
But I always come back
To the lady in the black
A blade on the skin
Feels better than the happiness
That never seems to sink in
Or the confidence
That never existed from within
Till I’m nothing
It’s the only thing
That I find comforting
When the lady in black
Finds me running back
I’ll let the bull out of his cage
But you won’t like what’s been contained
All this time pacing between this space
And the time that’s accumulated all this rage
Little bombs waiting to be engaged
Trying to be a better man
Wearing the face of calm
With years of screams
Creasing the faces
Pulling lips open by the seams
When am I gonna learn
That keeping bulls in cages
Makes it worse
And like a porcelain doll
I am broken….
I am done.
My body is a casket
Another breath in
through the momentary fulfillment
meant to demolish
My body a casket
A catalyst for loss.
We’re trinkets of absences
Trying to remember
Those we mourn
The way they run
Between the trees
Peering between the leaves
Going back in time
In the glint in their eyes
To time gone by
A flash of a dinosaur
in the blink of an eye.
Once upon a time, there was a herd of sheep.
And that herd of sheep walked over to the fence of another herd of sheep.
And the sheep that had walked over to the other herd said, ‘Bahhh!’ in a mocking tone and then said, ‘you fuckin’ sheep!’
And they continued to ‘bah’ in mocking tones.
All the sheep in the herd that was mocking the other said the exact same things.
They sounded the same because they were the same.
They accused all the other sheep of fear-mongering about a virus all while spreading fear of the ‘commies’ and Bill Gates and the ‘new world order’
And the vaccine will be worse than the virus, don’t you know?
Unless of course, the whole thing is a hoax.
And masks can you make you ill, depleting your oxygen levels.
But they also don’t work to help contain the spread of a virus.
And the other herd said some of the same things as each other too but that was because facts don’t change no matter who bah’s them.
The herd that mocked don’t know they’re sheep. Which makes them the winners at being the biggest, bestest sheep!
Follow who you may
But don’t tell us you’re the ones wide awake
You’re still following what another shepherd says
Underneath we’re all the fucking same
Smiling under skin
That bears our shame
We’re all sheep
That the androids dream of
In their sleep