To be ‘enlightened’ you must first realise that enlightenment is bullshit in the first place.
If you wish to further sophisticate yourself and emancipate yourself from your current form of humanity, become part of my harem by simply clicking the follow button.
Why do ‘free speech’ advocates all seemingly believe and say the same shit as one another?
‘Free Speech’ is in their online names or their biography or its what they say on the radio or the TV.
‘Free speech’ has become their rally call, in the name of ‘just asking questions and speaking the truth.’
All these phrases sound innocent, no, worse they sound like good intentions. Should we have free speech? Yes, sounds good. Should we ask questions? Certainly its one way to learn, and make corrections. Speak the truth? Of course! Who wants to be lied to? Who doesnt want to believe that even in their toughest spot they’ll heroically speak the truth!
Yet, I am increasingly finding that anyone who spouts the most about truth telling and seeking are anything but truth telling or seeking.
People who spout the loudest about free speech all seemingly network with one another and have the same belief systems, and talk on similar if not the same topics. And there is an irony to be had that I can listen to them at all, since they all proclaim that they cannot say the things they’re saying without being silenced.
Ah, and where is that goddamn silence! Peace please!
In their defence sometimes they have been ‘silenced’ by the BBC or wherever else they used to hang their coattails.
Sometimes its because they have ‘controversial’ opinions, which is perhaps a questionable reason to ‘silence’ someone. Other times you look more into it and find out just that, there is much more to their ‘outcast’ status. Or in some cases there is no ‘outcast’ status and simply a seperating of ways!
They do the rounds loudly on podcasts, podcasts that as mentioned previously all seem to have the same political opinions and biases.
Its the perfect rallying call ‘free speech’ who can question it? Who wants to argue against free speech?
Ironically their rally call can be used as a good stand in for a censor.
All these phrases that sound good on the surface have been weaponised by people whose real fear is consequences of speech or disagreement more than the actual censoring of speech itself.
They have themselves a cushy corner, they can spew their beliefs (some of which i view as bigotry) spread it as truth and say ‘free speech!’ when someone says they’re full of shit. Note that telling someone they’re full of shit is not silencing them. But ‘free speech’ is their siren and they’re obviously free to use it.
They have themselves a cushy corner where they can whine about people on the opposite side acting like victims(some people do. A grain of truth, and people grab hold like a dog with a bone) while acting like victims themselves because they have been ‘silenced’
If no one is around to hear them speak, do their voices still make a sound?
I guess I’ll never know.
The good news is that the ricky gervais specials on netflix are muted for obvious reasons.
It were an unholy feast
To which he gnawed with verve
With mad coals of green flame against his alabaster whites
Starin’ through that dreadful snare o’ his own eyes
drippage o’ ichor from his lips to his chin
Tentacles twist and writhe betwix his bladesome teeth
The corners o’ his lips curlin’, turnin’ every which way as he tore into the grisly flesh
o’ that pig-snouted fang’ead
Authors note: This is inspired by the words linked to and a project i’ve been working on.
The rivers of time have etched a new notch upon the tread of my hearts butterfly flutter
His sapphire eyes I may never gaze upon again
within him I had anchored myself in seas unknown
And now I am unmoored
Adrift
And I hate the seasons of nature
How they change and the gordion knot of life and death
how it cannot be untangled. Tamed.
Yet, we humans try
Binding ourselves to faith or medicine or both
without a thought to the contradiction.
I want to roll down the blinds
and turn away
to never gaze upon lifes deceit of rich and ripe pickings
to never see the sun rise
feel its heat on my skin, as if that too isn’t a thing that will die.
And, yes, all this, may well be a flare for the dramatic.
And I wish I could be more happy go lucky
But it doesnt feel worth it, to laugh in the face of how life and death always marks us.
Why should I laugh, or even weep
Why should I act as though anything really is that deep?
Yet its deep in my stomach
the pinching of something
I grew attatched
and the price I pay is this
A tear shed
A part of me broken.
I feel too deeply
it scares me.
What the hell will I do, when something bigger happens, when goodbyes come or dont
how can I live knowing the magnitude of the tides I contain?
Sometimes, sometimes I look up at the sky and feel so small
and think, all these things I feel are too vast
death would be a relief
and I sink into it.
I was walkin’ in the rain
which was delicious, no delectable
the way it sparkled in me lions mane
Made me feel worth it
So’s I ruffed up me collar
bobbin’ me ‘ead like a pigeon or a cockney
then all ruffed up like a ruff
I played at being cantona
And kicked a can down the road
‘And he has it! Its a hat-rick!’
I roared
and there was a cloudburst o’ pastel hues o’ music on me tongue
playin’ me like a vibraphone!
This is written for W3
There are gremlins in the shallows of my face
Pick pocketing the needles that they tried to use to knit back together my brain
I dont have the heart to tell them its made of glass
And it breaks. Sometimes i fill it like a vase
with flowers and that.
When i walk around town people mistake them for a hat
They say, ‘hello’ and i softly speak back
But they rarely hear me
And then they turn to their friends and screw up their face and say, ‘rude!’ With a huff
And a gremlin pulls me by the ear and says ‘look at that. They think you’re a twat’
And i think Maybe i am so i take the flowers from the vase and let them wilt and die
And then i say to myself memento mori
And then i roll into bed
and rest my sorrowful head
Then I wake up and do the whole rigmarole again.
The concurrent voices rose in ominous chorus
Oh scrudge my face up from its lionesque stonework
First ya tek ya posies and ya put ’em in ya beaklet
I hast been ‘ere etnero lungful o’ woe
Then ya tek ya eyelets and ya wipe away the mist so ya can see from ’em
There ne’er was much ado about the greylings and how they tied thier tongues to the shambled shailings
And when a ring o’ roses grow
From ya eyes to ya elbow
I bunkem up the shailings and the dwellings speak the lingo of the flaylings
Then ya scream into the fire and…
And the whirl turned on its axel, precrius on its spindle
Ashes, ashes
we all fall down for the reapin’
And the seasons passed on the leavlings who posessed no choir for the ‘earing
Written for W3
Inspired by the rhyme ring a ring o’ roses and a previous W3 challenge.
with the spin of the chill
that kindles no fire
the waxing and waning of ghosts respire
Known only and softly on the walls of wholly alone fellas and frills
the great differing tide did oyster their ills
And with pearls on their tongues clammed shut
suspended there from their own tenter’ooks
they bound themselves in nooks and books
until a great dawn may gather a look
and on inspection from the glass that stole a spy
No one could really remember why
these fellas and frills were still suspended there
yet no sleeping dogs could lie
so as testament to lifes swift flight in the eye
shallow graves were dug in their minds
for acrimony outlives its vessel sometimes.
I must let you know I am as big as tyrannosaurs rex
Except smaller
What it is, you see, is this
billions of years folded me into this frame
But rest assured I am as big as he, the mighty King!
So be humbled and kneel before my beastly beak!
Hah! How my servant doth think that I dont know how sharp it is!
Why, I sharpen it upon eventide
Whilst your eyelids flutter with the butterflies that weave your velveteen dreams!
So once more I must charge you
Be humbled on thy knees
before my beastly beak!
Matt’s note:
I am humbled before him, and he shall shit wherever he shall please, even if means it is on me!
Oh, Mighty king, hold mine heart and feel it beat upon this night in pulsing fear and thus self-effacing before you I kneel, and any comaplaint of mine herewith withdrawn for you are my King and ever I am in service to you, rest assure I will bring to you the feast of dawn, when sol doth rise upon her perch.
I hate how you’re always formaling about with ya big yappy mouth
always at warrels with the niproff
accusing us of licksm
Always buzzed from ya cuffere
I may not have your dictine
But i’m bribly with me whimease
Thats what matters when ya winkknit
I can’t afford being rumpfled
it’d make me weribly misble.
So, go shut ya blizzarin’ fishfunk rum ‘ole
Here comes this cursed whisper, siren-sweet
That beguiles my ear
I stand centred here and meek
straining just to hear
prying with furtive gaze
to steal a hidden scene
And I am prisoner here to this desire so keen
This fevered grip that holds my eyes agape
My tongue chokes and writhes
letting nothing slip by
no primal screamscape
to usher the world beneath
to rend the air complete
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 