Tag Archives: hopelessness

Defiant hopelessness…

Never Forget Never Forgive

Nobody’s making attempts anymore
to stir a peace of roses.
Individual daffodils and bunches of sage
challenge shields of rage
hidden under profaned altars
of compromised innocence;
piled mountains of drowned chariots
awaiting another exodus to chase…

I nearly fell for you Delilah,
but I am blind you see,
incapable of discerning
between a hairdresser and barbers.

Nights of shattered crystals
call for vengeance,
and Picasso crying
shards of broken Guernicas
over forgotten mind fields…

It’s always midnight
on the side of treason;
either too early,
or too late
to find another door…

Don’t ever leave your clothes outside
when told to take a shower…

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4th of April 4th, 1984…

Self-Inflicted hope, against inflicted hopelessness…

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As previously mentioned, hopelessness must be deliberately inflicted -and to a certain extent accepted- in order to exist. Thus neither hopelessness nor hope should be considered as “normal”, simply because they can’t be; no one would ever need hope in a world where expectations would not arise from unmet needs and growing frustrations. And with hope useless, hopelessness would become obsolete, superfluous. Hopelessness therefore must be inflicted upon authority’s mostly unwilling subjects, through an intricately designed, perpetual scheme of vexatious sufferings, always paired with poverty or its threatening prospect. Hope, as its emotionally balancing counterpart, could exist only where hopelessness has been previously induced, maintained.
Hope is authority’s most cleaver device, offered freely as a substitute for everything and anything between lasting happiness and long life, there to soothe all pain, pacifier for authority’s -fooled into submission- subjects. But the matter’s sadistic twist resides in hope’s need to be self-inflicted, taken and swallowed upon offer, never to be pushed down anyone’s (un)suspecting throat.
Yes, hope must be self-inflicted in order to release its pseudo-rewarding, pseudo-hormones; after all, we were “created” with free will, which means inflicted hope would transform us into machines, isn’t it…?
Sancta semplicitas…
It is so hard to understand now, my own two decades of self-inflicted blind hope called “Christianity”… Hard and humiliating because I wholeheartedly believed it against all sane logic and reason, continuously living the guilt of blaming myself for any emotional failure to abide by its ideology, guilt commonly known as desperation. Because all it’s left for hope if not self-inflicted, falls into desperation’s ever changing maze, with minotaurs of doubt awaiting their prey at every – not prayed for – corner… Christianity’s madness has gone so far as of dumbing otherwise intelligent people into oftentimes praying for “nothing bad to happen” even if there isn’t any foreseeable reason for fear.
It seems as “I’ll be with you always” has its serious problems to be met only by “Ye shall hope I’ll be with your hopes, always…”

-to be continued …-

Photo: http://m.izleneo.com/nazim-hikmet-ran-siiri-hayati-iskalama-luksun-yok/

3rd of April 4th, 1984…

“There come a time, kemosabe, when good man must wear mask.” The Lone Ranger’s Tonto

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A “brother” can remain “big” only until the narrow bridge into adulthood has been crossed. Beyond it he should remain what we all should be to each other: simply brothers.
As time and eternity are identical beyond what we see as “life-spans”, the concepts which remain beyond our short, conscious passings through our individual life-times, should be seen, considered and understood at their ab-ovo value and meaning, bare-stripped of all unnecessary loads of mor(t)ality.
Mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters to each other, living out the seeds of common sense within us…
Alas, our eyes are already sore, tormented by the inherited grains of quicksand, of generations upon generations of heirs to “that” arche-authority which sits distant, quiet and obnoxious about the whatever origins of this…
Unfortunately, life can never be what – hopefully – should have been; no one can walk naked anymore in some daydreamed Eden gardens, without the prospect of a planned rape nearby.
Innocence must were clothes, holding a solid stick nearby.
There’s no real hope. It died the day when death came into this world, bringing an ever nearer end to individual lives.
Two things remain for facing authority: submission and defiance. One cannot coexist with the other for reasons beyond necessary survival, even though shaded alternatives as “theatrical submission” may well be one of defiance’s many masks. When confronting injustice at authority’s levels, even my enemy’s enemy is a better option than submission.
In this world of inflicted hopelessness, truth and lies have become inseparable allies for defiance’s sake.
As Orwell so clearly coined it, to die hating them has become the true meaning of freedom, liberty’s pulsing core.
Submission to authoritative injustice is complicity; defiance against it has become true justice…

-to be continued…-