Stare at the sun.
Let it burn
Let it fry
Let it illuminate
All you harbor inside.
Run and hide
Shade benign
A cool spell lies inside
Tricking ashen dark eyes.
Don’t you hide
Not inside
Come bask in redness sky
Its smoldering vision.
It may burn
You may die
But in the outside so bright
No need to run or hide.
For it brings moral light
To ashen dark eyes.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Random Parable
A reason that a more perfect world cannot be produced is because the seriousness involved in doing such would make the word free of paradoxical reason and doing such would reduce the material for the art of comedy to base its satirical ridicule. Thus the people of that society see the loss of humor as tragic and because of the serious conscience a more perfect state would present, that conscience could create a mind frame and a reason for people to plot against the society itself. In doing so the people reassure the rise of a paradoxical society, created because absurd action based on emotion rather than thought was rallied against the creation of a more perfect world.
Random Scat
Well doctor we found his soul.”
“Yes! Were was it?”
“In his penis sir, and the rest was in his wallet. And if you don’t mind me asking what do you want this mans soul for?”
“You found it in his penis?”
“Yes sir, and in his wallet”
“His Wallet?”
“Yes, his wallet sir.”
“Well how in the hell did you find it there?”
“We mugged him sir.”
“You mugged him! In broad daylight!”
“Well yes sir, he was just milling about soliciting, so we came up on him and mugged him proper.”
“What do you mean he was soliciting? What was he soliciting?
“Sex sir.”
“Sex!”
“Yes sir, sex sir, he was a right fruity creampuff, selling it through the back door he was.”
“So you brought me back the soul of a gigolo?”
“Yes sir, and if you don’t mind me asking what did you want the soul of a gigolo for?”
“That man is of supposed respect and reputation, an elite of the upper-band, in his shadow I embellished the shade, oh! That is why I wanted his superior soul, not that of a fucking gigolo!”
“Yeah, its sure strange where people keep their souls.”
“Yes! Were was it?”
“In his penis sir, and the rest was in his wallet. And if you don’t mind me asking what do you want this mans soul for?”
“You found it in his penis?”
“Yes sir, and in his wallet”
“His Wallet?”
“Yes, his wallet sir.”
“Well how in the hell did you find it there?”
“We mugged him sir.”
“You mugged him! In broad daylight!”
“Well yes sir, he was just milling about soliciting, so we came up on him and mugged him proper.”
“What do you mean he was soliciting? What was he soliciting?
“Sex sir.”
“Sex!”
“Yes sir, sex sir, he was a right fruity creampuff, selling it through the back door he was.”
“So you brought me back the soul of a gigolo?”
“Yes sir, and if you don’t mind me asking what did you want the soul of a gigolo for?”
“That man is of supposed respect and reputation, an elite of the upper-band, in his shadow I embellished the shade, oh! That is why I wanted his superior soul, not that of a fucking gigolo!”
“Yeah, its sure strange where people keep their souls.”
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