to babylon -

... That until the philosophy which holds one race superior and another inferior is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned; That until there are no longer first-class and second-class citizens of any nation; That until the color of a man's skin is of no more significance than the color of his eyes; That until the basic human rights are equally guaranteed to all without regard to race; That until that day, the dream of lasting peace and world citizenship and the rule of international morality will remain but a fleeting illusion, to be pursued but never attained.

-

Haile Selassie II

H.P. Lovecraft - A possible soon-to-read.

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.

- H.P. Lovecraft

no witty titles today.

i watch a man with these eyes struggle to keep the ties he made to the God that he knows is alive.
i watch a woman in alarm as she knows it's only the start when she opens herself wide up, but not to show her heart.
now they go their own way day to day just barely reaching sea level by the time their debts have been paid.
between bills and taxes, things like a decent car or cough syrup to keep her child from hacking become a distant mecca seen in a mirror, cracking.
and as the shards fall to the floor, they both cry out to God for more because they really aren't too sure by the time the lights cut out and they're on a cement floor asking these questions.
with these questions they start guessing as to both hell and to heaven, and whether these matters are really that pressing.
so in a moment of weakness they both grow conceited and forget,
the ties to the God who's alive
and ignore,
the alarms going off in her heart,
that's when he says enoughs enough and she decides to accept the rough stuff,
and they meet.
now through his eyes he sees a whore
and she's wondering if he's a financial open door
so they consummate, copulate, whatever shit you call it they got primitive, they found a mate
but when she's spread wide and he's between her thighs
they both come to realize
the God to whom he broke his ties,
and her heart pours out through the tears in her eyes
they run home filthy like muddy children
asking how the hell did i become the villain
i was only subject to the pain you let fill into my life.
but God said my son, my daughter,
while i called you my sheep you strayed to the slaughter
you ran to streams of pain and blood while i waited for you by the water
yes my ocean is filled with storms and in them you will be worn
down to the very essence of which you are comprised
but my son
my daughter
this is where you find Me
what was a dwindling light inside
now purified by water.
so they realized that in breaking their ties,
that in ignoring the alarms God set around their heart,
the enemy was really part of themselves,
from the very start.

perfect.

"Tattoos are like graffiti on my heart, soul and body. These painted and pained lines reveal to me who I am, or will be. What other choice do I have but to show them off?"

http://www.bmezine.com/tattoo/A91229/tatconfe.html

probably the most insight out of a mod experience, or piece of writing, in a while.

something i've learned quite forcibly as of late.

in reading an experience of being tattooed, i came upon this paragraph, and figured it too cool to let it become a fleeting realization. so until the zombies come and the world falls apart and our internet servers crash, this is my attempt at immortalization of an ideal.

To that date, it was my [tattoo], and to be honest, I wasn't as ready as I thought I was for it. But that's ok. I had ways of taking my mind off of it all. About a year earlier, I was on a city bus reading Hardcore Zen by ex-punk rocker, turned Buddhist teacher, Brad Warner. The bus pulled up to one of the stops and this little old Asian man got on and sat down next to me. I didn't pay much attention at first, but I could feel him looking at me. When I looked over, I was taken aback. Next to me was this little old Buddhist monk of about 70 dressed in the beautiful crimson and orange robes. We got to talking about what I was reading and my tattoos and general, Buddhist/life/love stuff. Really, when do you get to talk to a Buddhist monk on a city bus about tattoos and books? I can't remember now what he said his name was, but he gave me one of the most incredible lessons about endurance and transcendence. 

He told me that at times of pain and heartache, that we must accept the pain for what it is. 

Focus on it and know that it is just a bodily sensation and that it'll pass if we know it will. 

That was one of the most incredible and profound bus rides I've ever had.

http://www.bmezine.com/tattoo/A91229/tatconfe.html

less epic than john woo's method, but still good.

“Great ideas, it is said, come into the world as gently as doves. 

Perhaps, then, if we listen attentively, we shall hear amid the uproar of empires and nations a faint flutter of wings; the gentle stirring of life and hope.”

- Albert Camus

twinkle, twinkle.

sitting on the stars,

my feet dangle over the world as i stare from afar,

i see everything,

from the dog loose in the alley to the broken down car,

even though the season is green ,

and the sun shines bright,

there's no spring in the daily steps,

no hope keeping my people's heart light,

i look down from the wonders they look up to,

the very ones i'm afraid i will one day lose to you,

only to find cities on hills burning to the ground,

or deserted, like huge sandstone hearts ruled by stray hounds,

we're supposed to be the ones who are different,

the people who had something the world wanted,

we poured out our heart in the cold wind,

grew cold blooded, and curb stomped it.

you were never told it would be easy,

never told you could take it home like a simple breezy,

when you can't bear to lose the heart of one girl,

imagine losing those hearts given to you,

and tell me you still find your cynicism pleasing.

sitting on the stars,

my feet dangle over the world as i stare from afar,

this is my feeble light to the world,

spoken over musical bars.