Someone named themselves ‘hate you’ and commented on my song.
Shame they will never play the banjo under the stars.
They will eat their fruit loops and try to get an erection,
shame their 50kg belly is in the way.
They talk all day and have nothing to say
except some story that affects no one.
Lucky for them they’ve got government money
to buy their weed and booze.
They got a mental illness from abuse of drugs
and still take drugs which is making them worse.
They even tried to send me their evil curse.
In a few months or years they’ll be in hospital
when the medication doesn’t work,
I could try to have compasion
but why would you wanna help this jerk?
Stuck with the trash I am attached
to having something to hate,
be great if they realised
that spending time
takes more than empty debates.
I look forward to freedom
in education where minds grow
from learning methods.
Still while I am developing
they will be here in circle.
When it comes to images through paint you may decide that choosing an image is unnatural. Now the images forming from automative processes may be negative but perhaps truths. So you want certain images to form, you are hoping now. They can’t. Positioning a board at feet level may be rightly done. As a mirror to your world. I know I hope for bodies standing, maybe a house. People and places within me.
To paint on a small canvas is maybe partially worthless. For size itself is reality. This is not to say to never do so, just a masterpiece must be life size, a window or mirror.
Nonsense is sometimes something we don’t understand, it doesn’t make sense to us. Though making sense is harder than just putting words one after another. Is sense even needed when it comes to life, only in daily activities where you interact in normal society, like driving a car. To have a little nonsense is humour and fun. Like a child exploring new words and babbling. If poetry always made sense it would be very boring, how can you describe reality with sense when it is fundamentally chaotic. To produce nonsense is sense sometimes if you use sense to create it, sensing your world.
Watching Smith didn’t satisfy my anti-absorption. Lack of media outlets final. Cruelty is finances and this cigarette, my arching desires. How you want this, on top, on bottom, the barrel is solid like meat within it. Water is mixed feelings, the processed reality, like my lust. Fetching addiction like a pail comes thirst again. How you want this.
Writing the ways you see, like objects, uses, each with problems, like plastic, makes you speak in tongues unheard by the factories. The rabbit may be sleeping now, in earnest for wake. I am the ferret, the hound or mouse in my mirror. I don’t enjoy this pushing. Grabbing something from nothing. I must clear the decks. Remove the objects of suspicion. To organise well is health. The boxes. The clutters. To grow takes a system and plan, arrangements.
In my mind I just need to remove myself from them. The personality must develop with disintegration. To find a like mind could be near impossible in a world where individuality means rejection of the social norms we are surrounded by. It could take a week, or a month to find freedom from people. Longer for those we’ve known for a long time. They plague our minds with their image and how they harmed us. To move on we must reconcile their subjection, see them for what they are, forgive them for their inadequacy and forget them. We are all mistaken, we all have ego, we all have these ignorant desires that blind us. We seek what we desire and absorb it. Most now in this world seek money. It gives us freedom we think. Freedom from poverty at least not the systems of life or karma. To be free in reality is very different. It is less about money and more about your mind. To be free from guilt, shame, anger, hatred, jealously. That is true freedom.