Tag Archives: children

Endtimes of dying…

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“The truth shall set you free…”

I hate cut flowers.

They remind me of life; beautiful and dead, already…

Oftentimes suffering becomes a choice, a moral and an ethical one for the times when lying and cheating against our very own selves becomes a burden harder to bear than truth itself and its consequences.
Life itself has never been anything else but suffering; from its always unrequested beginnings, to its always bitter end, with more or less failed, all along attempts to somewhat adjust the odds of this ever unfair farce. It seems as even what’s good of it has sunk to be nothing more than pathetic patches to never stop, but just hide this ugly continuum of misery rebranded as life.
No one seems to be willing to associate the countless instances of witnessing in a way or another the collateral horrors of a child’s birth, the screams, the blood, the tears, the sometimes unbearable tension of a moment closer to death than to life, with themselves; the cheap lack of our own birth’s memories seems to be comforting enough to not even bother about it anymore…
We just don’t want to see that it is only a matter of time, a sinister extension of a tragedy, until everyone arrives where nobody wanted, to the dust and ashes about which the raptured in orgasm parents have chosen not to think at the time.
Baskets of goodies, greeting cards and flowers for those parts of this ugly world where a filthy hut full of buzzing flies ready to lay their spawn on a meager placenta isn’t life’s “normal” treat, temporarily covers the place to be littered later with late flowers of sorrow…
The everyday sight of my beautiful wife and wonderful children torments me; the thought of any more suffering besides their frail existence drains all my attempts to sanity as I can’t dissociate myself from their finiteness…
We have become so eager to squeeze as much as possible out of our shamefully short conscientiousness, that we have completely disregarded its utter uselessness.
I do apologise for my incapacity to eat my daily circus’ bread for the sake of entertaining myself into this, oblivion’s waiting chamber called lifetime…
I do apologise for my complete unwillingness to consider only the beginnings, turning a blind heart’s eyes to what shouldn’t follow, the end…
I do not want to understand death.
I do not want to accept death as “naturally” associated with life, as much as I don’t want to accept evil as anywhere related to beauty and goodness.
As one who hasn’t requested entrance into this world, please allow me the right of denying myself the allowance of stupidity.
Allow me to conclude that life in all its unfathomable beauty, is nothing else but utter emptiness, perpetually filled with more and more new, innocent lives, bound to gloriously live up to the vain task bestowed upon them by careless lovers…
Beautiful soap bubbles we are; endlessly rejoicing in one another’s miriad of colours, just to fade into a last ghostly flicker as we silently burst, leaving the short tear touch of an ephemeral presence.
Do you wonder why all known religions ultimately consider ascetic contemplation as their highest form of union with the “divine”? Behind this instinctual urge to live, lies a subliminal desire to end this seemingly endless conveyor belt of death…
I don’t care why it all started; it is just abject and unjust, and as such it should end.
And for those of you looking for cheap discounts, no, I’m not suggesting any, neither mass, nor solo suicides. These are just irresponsible and selfish crimes against those left behind to bear not only their own sysiphic burdens, but also that of the ungrateful dead…
No, I am calling for a new revolution of love…
Of fruitless love…
Of passion and absorbtion into one another, of devotion and sacrifice, ’till death shall part us, for good.
Unwilling children we arrived in this world, and childless should we remain; respectful to what we would have decided, should anyone cared to ask us before we were conceived. No one would have consented to this prologue onto dying.
And if that be the case, no one should be consenting to their children’s death, regardless how falsely remote it may seem.
And yes, I know, for most of us parents, it is too late.
Late to do anything about our careless love, anything else but the raptured contemplation of, and the utmost devotion to the wonders holding our hands, until oblivion shall part us.
And if you think it to be repulsive what you have red, do walk with your children through a cemetery and imagine yourself for a moment, leaving without them…
You’ll feel what many of us have so much wished to never feel.
And if finally you’ve come to think beyond your senses, remember to be honest when next time you talk to your growing children about life’s wonders.
The truth about the future end, shall ultimately free their present.

Bring death to it’s desirous end…

And for those religious of you, who think procreation is a divine directive, please do consider that the command to “go forth and multiply” has been given prior to “the fall”…
The statement about the sweat of our brows, the thorns and the thistles has never been a command; it is a bitter lament…

Like mine.

Photo source: Wikipedia

“Guard your heart, above all…”

or Orwell’s 1984, revisited…

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“Who controls the past, controls the future…
…who controls the present, controls the past.”
George Orwell

It’s never been easy to return… Anywhere…
Especially to places echoing unwanted memories, long gone past times stubbornly alive and well enough to torn -always nearly- healed wounds. Then comes the bleeding, the tears, and the eagerly seeking emotional “healers”, ready to open another “friendly wound” nearby, just to reassure themselves a higher place in some heavenly Disneyland…

Having -to some degree, and to the outspoken surprise of many- successfully baptised in two (1st, 2nd) former articles, Orwell’s “1984” onto a -never intended by the author- creationist pamphlet, I decided to return for a much needed revision of the past, motivated by my newly found liberty of thinking, in a honesty driven attempt to do some justice to both Orwell and myself.

To shortly summarise it, I don’t believe anymore in a biblical creationism which’s originator is supposed to be a deity not at all impressed by the worldwide daily torture and genocide of innocent humans, with a tragic emphasis on children -all for his glory-.
I never believed either, because there’s nothing neither rational nor logic to believe in, evolutionism, having settled myself into believing in mankind’s absolute depravity, in a world where the one thing worth living for, is the love of those who love you… And if no one loves you, read Philip Pullman’s “His Dark Materials” monumental Trilogy and you’ll see, you’re not alone!

Having said that, I shall proceed to using the introductory quote in a much more simple fashion than that of some fans, who like to over-complicate Orwell even when that hasn’t seem to have been intended by Orwell himself. Because it is as clear as an evening’s shadow, that Orwell’s statement is nothing more than a very logical statement of the obvious. Or, to have it a bit straightened, who controls the past, does that from the same present from where the future is highly influenceable too.
In my -actually our-, rather awkward case, the past starts exactly where any logical inquiry should start, at the unknown, precise moment of our collective origins, shrunk for practicality’s sake only to humankind’s.
To be frank, no one has the slightest, absolutely comprehensive idea of what and how it was, or about who has done it, I myself joining therefore the ever swelling number of the “ain’t got a clue” club, with its daily multiplying group, or individual branches, all based on fairly unclear preferences.

As the main reason of this “revisit” is an utmost determined attempt to change the present-influencing past, I have to humbly remind my reader that the “YouTube” called devilish invention (cursed be its name), stubbornly stores hours of my past, of which as much as I would dream about, I can’t dissociate myself. As a matter of fact, some of the issues discussed there still occupy the “convictions” shelves of my intellectual stand, those having to do with what Pullman called “experimental theology”, as they deal with both scientific and spiritual matters, an otherwise just fancy terminology for the seen and the unseen…
Unfortunately still, probably several thousands of gullible Christians are still being spoon-fed by interested groups and individuals with things I’ve honestly said in a recent past when I believed and vigorously defended every single thing I’ve said; nevertheless, that’s not the case anymore…
It was exactly the rigour of facts against make-beliefs which convinced me to take everything I’ve adhered to, down to those infrastructural basics where not even Paul the Apostate’s “hopeful belief” could paint over the plain, factual truth.

What can I do about it, now?

Well, exactly what you Dear Reader can see for yourself: writing out my heart, the one about I’ve so painstakingly learned it is not the root of all evil, but the one true fountain of anything left good in us, oftentimes so stained and tired that it does nothing but wrong, thus hopelessly crying out for help…

Do I control the past? Yes, by all means, if I am at any subsequent time able to take a stand against anything I’ve done in it, I am controlling it.
Can I repair the wrongs I’ve done in the past? Yes, by all means, if I am able to -at any possible level- address what I’ve done in it, I already started repairing the damage caused… All of it? Oh, come on!
We’ve got a problem, us humans, with this “all” concept of ours, which robs us of the so many, literally infinite satisfactions, sacrificed at the feet of our self-made gods of an inexistent “perfection”.
Nothing’s perfect, no, and sorry all you religious folks, your gods are no exception, otherwise how do you think we’ve gotten all this, historically proven c**p? Out of something “perfect”? Oh, please, would you grow up?
Any “all” has a start which none of us knows where and when it will end, bearing within like a seed’s germ, what’s going to grow of it.
There’s no wholeness, no perfection, just parts of an unknown infinite, where nothing has any meaning without it’s vicinity, where right and wrong have become mere points of view, and one’s life seems to always be, someone else’s death…
There is nevertheless a beautiful common sense of good, the one reflected back through the eyes of innocent little children!
They haven’t learned to lie yet…

Life sucks, my friends, or as the wise uncle Solomon has put it, “All is vanity.”
As a matter of fact, I should start a “new” religion based entirely on the biblical Book of Ecclesiastes…

Unfortunately for me, “There’s nothing new under the sun…”

Abiding deep…

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Abiding deep,
like drying, reedless water;
unwanted, bitter tasting washer
of anything
offered, dumped, forgotten
there, where light has never thought
of dying…
Making its way
to any fountain, well;
to any pond.
For seas are salty teardrop oceans,
eyeless witnesses of what it was
when clouds were roaming free
embracing winds,
of south, of north,
of anywhere…
Making love,
raising wild children of prairie grasses,
smelling early of sweet dripping sweat…

My woman’s armpit smells of nails
biting hard my back’s skin,
my thighs, my arms;
of blood biting lips unwilling to let go…

Scar me oh woman, scar,
until there’s nothing left this flesh’s to cover…
Unskin me lover, hurt me,
until all flying seeds shall find their rooting playground…
Undo my former self, and hold me,
until our children, all shall wish to sing…

Give them our bones, my thunder,
until their song shall raise the dying…