You’re only as Sick as your Secrets
November 9, 2011
Psychopaths for the Future
Antisocial Behavior (Psychopathy traits):
-Dr. Igor Galynker, associate chairman for the department of psychology at Beth Israel Medical Center in New York City.
- Impulsive
- Aggressive
- Deceitful
- Desire to break all the rules
- Cruelty to animals
- Bully
- No signs of empathy
- Prey on others
- Increased gray matter has been found in several areas of the brain in young boys with psychopathic tendencies, according to a study published in the Archives of General Psychiatry.
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| Drugs? Psychopath? Or just Busey? Just Busey! |
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"These people are wired differently. Their brains are different."
"These people really see you as a piece of furniture and the empathy that allows us to feel others' feelings is missing."
"The path to cheerfulness is to sit cheerfully and to act and speak as if cheerfulness were already there."
William James
November 8, 2011
A Tail
Jumping Galapagos Iguanas attacked my cat today. I barely caught them before they hopped the train. Held fast to his tail, but he slipped away. But, Alas! The tail of the reptilian regime shall be mine for all time. No green-back will assault my feline & ever again. The 7th day will be remembered as ours & in history we shall be received. Open arms for the mutilators of thine enemy! Crowds will gather. The children shall rejoice on this glorified day. Exalted is he who in the face of pain and anguish, claws his way to the highest peak of success.
But I have failed thee.
The tail is mine but the eye still sees.
Watching from above, evil plots and horrendous schemes. The Iguanas Reich will unleash poisonous hate upon me. The floodgates of their propaganda will awash the nations. Their farce objectified towards the feline and I.
"We shall flee!" said the cat to me.
Pondering upon the puss' flight plan, the appendage in my hand began to quiver. The quiver now a tremble. The illustrious tail shown a dark light and an earthquake emitted from its centre. Engulfed was I, but the feline lied free.
"How is it he lies about unperturbed, a virgin in the midst of this beast?" this thought revolved within me much like the relentless electrons around the nucleus.
My mind fell victim to the greatest enemy of humanity--Thought. Carried away with images of photons, electrons, and great walls running the great lengths of coastlines, I lost my self.
Engulfed. The quake disintegrated my very mass. Particles of my former lives were laid upon me like the widow's veil. Their brilliance shining with their natural flow. Then swept away as if by some long forgotten wave.
As consciousness resurfaced, my crafty companion licked his chops in utter jubilation. I could not understand his delight after such an event. Most any cat would have been tail-to-the-heavens and feet-to-the-pavement with all the commotion and hubbub.
Evil is he! More so than the herald of the Iguanas' masses. Thine feline was the cause of all this mess--master deceiver! A rogue in my presence. Escape I shall, to the sea and beyond, where no feline dare patter.
How was he able to discern my intent? As if my plans laid bare to his gleaming eye; which now seemed to be pouring toxicity every direction they peered. Analyzing the scenery with a calm collective not so dissimilar to the beggars found on every traveller's path.
A guttural 'purrrr' startled me from my inner sanctuary. All thought poured from my mind. Except, it seemed, that the sound was to be heard not just by my ears but within my mind as well. As if he were there, prancing in circles, and listening to each thought as it occurred. His claws like icy knives tearing holes into every brain cell I had left and shredding any remaining thoughts.
He had sought revenge and revenge is exactly what he had delivered. The Tail was a front. Or was it the cat? Who was I to trust now? The IR had taken from me all that I had ever known and loved...except for the cat. Until now, I had always had the cat. The Cat. That damned cat.
Where the fuck did he go?! I may never know but now I am stuck in this hell alone. No passenger to ferry me along my path. My guiding light extinguished. I must pursue the lizard scum alone...all alone into the caverns I go. Never to re-emerge, another face lost in the ground.
I am doomed.
If I be doomed, then you be doomed.
We will be doomed together in sickness and in health.
Until death do us part.
That cat sure fucked up my thoughts.
Wonder where he went off to.
Maybe chasing the lizard czar.
Tail-less bastard.
At least I still got that sonuva bitches tail.
And then it came to me in one blinding flash. AH HA!
The tail.
But I have failed thee.
The tail is mine but the eye still sees.
Watching from above, evil plots and horrendous schemes. The Iguanas Reich will unleash poisonous hate upon me. The floodgates of their propaganda will awash the nations. Their farce objectified towards the feline and I.
"We shall flee!" said the cat to me.
Pondering upon the puss' flight plan, the appendage in my hand began to quiver. The quiver now a tremble. The illustrious tail shown a dark light and an earthquake emitted from its centre. Engulfed was I, but the feline lied free.
"How is it he lies about unperturbed, a virgin in the midst of this beast?" this thought revolved within me much like the relentless electrons around the nucleus.
My mind fell victim to the greatest enemy of humanity--Thought. Carried away with images of photons, electrons, and great walls running the great lengths of coastlines, I lost my self.
Engulfed. The quake disintegrated my very mass. Particles of my former lives were laid upon me like the widow's veil. Their brilliance shining with their natural flow. Then swept away as if by some long forgotten wave.
As consciousness resurfaced, my crafty companion licked his chops in utter jubilation. I could not understand his delight after such an event. Most any cat would have been tail-to-the-heavens and feet-to-the-pavement with all the commotion and hubbub.
Evil is he! More so than the herald of the Iguanas' masses. Thine feline was the cause of all this mess--master deceiver! A rogue in my presence. Escape I shall, to the sea and beyond, where no feline dare patter.
How was he able to discern my intent? As if my plans laid bare to his gleaming eye; which now seemed to be pouring toxicity every direction they peered. Analyzing the scenery with a calm collective not so dissimilar to the beggars found on every traveller's path.
A guttural 'purrrr' startled me from my inner sanctuary. All thought poured from my mind. Except, it seemed, that the sound was to be heard not just by my ears but within my mind as well. As if he were there, prancing in circles, and listening to each thought as it occurred. His claws like icy knives tearing holes into every brain cell I had left and shredding any remaining thoughts.
He had sought revenge and revenge is exactly what he had delivered. The Tail was a front. Or was it the cat? Who was I to trust now? The IR had taken from me all that I had ever known and loved...except for the cat. Until now, I had always had the cat. The Cat. That damned cat.
Where the fuck did he go?! I may never know but now I am stuck in this hell alone. No passenger to ferry me along my path. My guiding light extinguished. I must pursue the lizard scum alone...all alone into the caverns I go. Never to re-emerge, another face lost in the ground.
I am doomed.
If I be doomed, then you be doomed.
We will be doomed together in sickness and in health.
Until death do us part.
That cat sure fucked up my thoughts.
Wonder where he went off to.
Maybe chasing the lizard czar.
Tail-less bastard.
At least I still got that sonuva bitches tail.
And then it came to me in one blinding flash. AH HA!
The tail.
~We Once Were Human~
Always Being Scrutinized
Leftovers of your mind crumble and descend the hollows of their hallowed home. A tomb manifested on the planes of shadow, as the soul razed in the wake of awakening spirit. The crumbs of your former self now lost in the corridors of darkened catacombs. Long forgotten have been the pathways--a true sight out of mindless ambition. Beliefs erected on the precipice of the canyons of denial. Standing at the bottom gives one a truly abysmal perception of slipping from the boat. Overtaken by the mourning waves, whilst still clutching to the constraints of infinity. How they humble your bodily abode of living sacrament. Never would One hand suspect the Other of treason. I bundle all of your indiscretions, encapsulate a generation with the flit of the wrist, swallow the pill of tomorrow whole, and stare down upon whose dominion. Then the brain got leaky with her thoughts spilled on the floor. Her weathered flesh left my mouth tasting of ash and death. The fallout from a Heavenly cloud scraping the You from Us turning Us to Them in the time of lofty grass and malicious snake. They source the serpentine energy into paralytic partnerships. No utterance of the paradigm of effortless control systems. Which drift you into their trained states and altered boulevards. Remember what you will and will what you forget. But, will you remember the loss?
What was that? Who's there? Are they watching? This is me, and you are you. Is this what you want me to do? Will I do it wrong, or will you do it right? Can you show me the way or shall I wander all night? Keep me under keen eye for what I think and what I say trouble me as much as you. Why do you and I think too much or me too little? Jittery and jarred, my eyes are not their own as they search and search the sheltered room. Is my flight beyond schedule? How should I fly? Did you feel the treble of the light? I can't seem to think for myself, may I borrow a thought? Thoughts of paranoia, peering conviction, judging minds, suspended delusions, absolute confusion, vanity appraisals, faceless voices, guttural echoes, and roving buses. Who will stop me now? When will the gun go off? How odd am I to you? Will our altered egos rise in defiance or fall upon reliance? Dependence is a fickle fiend whose band of rubber goons is loose with their slippered spoons tripping from moon to moon in the pale milkman's light. Does the hole in my back burn? Shall I ask the same of your arm? Will her deceptions bend and melt away? Has her attention finally began to sway? From me to you to him to her at no avail. Are you an activist for the cause or a cause for the activism? Can the battle be fought? Will the judgments be surpassed? Is this car travelling too fast? When should we Eclipse?
Questions, questions, questions rambling through my head. A band of loose gypsies steal my morning bread. Hurt and dragged through the dirt, my ego drawn out on a napkin and left for dead in the 50
What was that? Who's there? Are they watching? This is me, and you are you. Is this what you want me to do? Will I do it wrong, or will you do it right? Can you show me the way or shall I wander all night? Keep me under keen eye for what I think and what I say trouble me as much as you. Why do you and I think too much or me too little? Jittery and jarred, my eyes are not their own as they search and search the sheltered room. Is my flight beyond schedule? How should I fly? Did you feel the treble of the light? I can't seem to think for myself, may I borrow a thought? Thoughts of paranoia, peering conviction, judging minds, suspended delusions, absolute confusion, vanity appraisals, faceless voices, guttural echoes, and roving buses. Who will stop me now? When will the gun go off? How odd am I to you? Will our altered egos rise in defiance or fall upon reliance? Dependence is a fickle fiend whose band of rubber goons is loose with their slippered spoons tripping from moon to moon in the pale milkman's light. Does the hole in my back burn? Shall I ask the same of your arm? Will her deceptions bend and melt away? Has her attention finally began to sway? From me to you to him to her at no avail. Are you an activist for the cause or a cause for the activism? Can the battle be fought? Will the judgments be surpassed? Is this car travelling too fast? When should we Eclipse?
Questions, questions, questions rambling through my head. A band of loose gypsies steal my morning bread. Hurt and dragged through the dirt, my ego drawn out on a napkin and left for dead in the 50
₵ bin. Can it ever be lost? When will it ever be found? How will the blind search? Why do I still feel her heat? How can it be?
I, father of the faulty seed, gave rise to an undying breed. She, mother of the mounting sun, led us to where water's brink. Crooked crust under bleeding feet. Crooks and dust overrun these streets. The free were left to wander the crossroads; raze the facades. Creeping crawling 'things' once lurked in the murk of Central Park. The dark waters rose from the depths of the Abylon, washing the sins and the muck from the gregarious gutter pups. Run, run, run to catch that train of thought. Hurry, hurry now, for later may be too late. What once was lost can never fall through the grate. The lack of chances left luck to fate. A ripple in a bottle was his only mistake. His albatross soared highest on a rainy day.
We all can't make the trip. A ticketed ride for two in June. Down the tracks that train did push. Off the map my mind did rush. Through the grid with anchors of rust. Disturbing sound signals young lust. Onwards! Mush, mush, mush!
Becoming the beings of bust.
We once were humans
eating the mush.
I, father of the faulty seed, gave rise to an undying breed. She, mother of the mounting sun, led us to where water's brink. Crooked crust under bleeding feet. Crooks and dust overrun these streets. The free were left to wander the crossroads; raze the facades. Creeping crawling 'things' once lurked in the murk of Central Park. The dark waters rose from the depths of the Abylon, washing the sins and the muck from the gregarious gutter pups. Run, run, run to catch that train of thought. Hurry, hurry now, for later may be too late. What once was lost can never fall through the grate. The lack of chances left luck to fate. A ripple in a bottle was his only mistake. His albatross soared highest on a rainy day.
We all can't make the trip. A ticketed ride for two in June. Down the tracks that train did push. Off the map my mind did rush. Through the grid with anchors of rust. Disturbing sound signals young lust. Onwards! Mush, mush, mush!
Becoming the beings of bust.
We once were humans
eating the mush.
November 7, 2011
Scan the Dark
Murky again; the same murk that covers them covers me; the murk of this dreary dream world we float around in. (101)
“We’re all dreaming,” Arctor said. If the last to know he’s an addict is the addict, then maybe the last to know when a man means what he says is the man himself, he reflected. He wondered how much of the insanity of the day—his insanity—had been real, or just induced as a contact lunacy, by the situation.
You put on a bishop’s robe and miter, he pondered, and walk around in that, and people bow and genuflect and like that, and try to kiss your ring, if not your ass, and pretty soon you’re a bishop. So to speak. What is identity? He asked himself. Where does the act end? Nobody knows. (29)
The straights, he thought, live in their fortified huge apartment complexes guarded by their guards, ready to open fire on any and every doper who scales the wall with an empty pillow-case to rip off their piano and electric clock and razor and stereo that they haven’t paid for anyhow, so he can get his fix, get the shit that if he doesn’t he maybe dies, outright flat-out dies, of the pain and shock of withdrawal. But, he thought, when you’re living inside looking safely out, and your wall is electrified and your guard is armed, why think about that?
“If your were a diabetic, and you didn’t have money for a hit of insulin, would you steal to get the money? Or just die?” (28)
Make it? Make what? The team? The chick? Make good? Make out? Make sense? Make money? Make time? Define your terms. The Latin for ‘make’ is facere, which always reminds me of fuckere, which is Latin for ‘to fuck,’ and I haven’t been getting it on worth jack shit lately.
November 4, 2011
There are not enough faces. Your own gapes back
at you on someone else, but paler, then the moment
when you see the next one and forget yourself.
It must be dreams that make us look different, must be
private cells inside a common skull.
One has the other’s look and has another memory.
Despair stares out from the tube-trains at itself
running on the platform for the closing door. Everyone
you meet is telling wordless barefaced truths.
Sometimes the crowd yields one you put a name to,
snapping fiction into fact. Mostly your lover passes
in the rain and does not know you when you speak.
at you on someone else, but paler, then the moment
when you see the next one and forget yourself.
It must be dreams that make us look different, must be
private cells inside a common skull.
One has the other’s look and has another memory.
Despair stares out from the tube-trains at itself
running on the platform for the closing door. Everyone
you meet is telling wordless barefaced truths.
Sometimes the crowd yields one you put a name to,
snapping fiction into fact. Mostly your lover passes
in the rain and does not know you when you speak.
— I Remember Me - Carol Ann Duffy
FEMA Communication Takeover Test Scheduled for November 9 :
FEMA Communication Takeover Test Scheduled for November 9 :
This has a LOTsa LOTsa information concerning FEMA, its creation, and the upcoming test (s)
This has a LOTsa LOTsa information concerning FEMA, its creation, and the upcoming test (s)
Me Being Me
· Woke up in a dream and still haven’t been pinched
· Lets have a round of applause for the fakes
Yea the real snakes in the grasss
Always watching for knives in backs
· Memories are nice but most of the past bites back and latches on. It hangs on your back forever
· Sifting through the debris of my life looking for the remnants of who I used to be
· I am who I am and that is who I am going to be. I’m not going to change my world just so you have something to see.
· Destruction is a form of creation. I destroy love so that I can create hate.
· Sitting, wishing that I had a badfish to hang on this reef along side me
Ken Kesey: Jail Journal
“Sergeant, has it occurred to you that no other species has need of cops. Or judges. Or punishment.”
“And just who would protect you and your family and children from the murderers and child molesters and lunatics?”
“Who breathes for us when we sleep? Who protects us from the bogeyman?”
________________________
The writing was on the wall when the wall turned orange. So my easy time days may be numbered. It seems I once more have pushed it until it popped. When will I learn?
________________________
“All dope,” I expanded my current theory, “ is relative. I like to get loaded! When I let it come my way that’s one thing, but when I get strung up with desire for it, that’s another. That’s dope.”
________________________
Even a man who is pure in heart
And says his prayers at night
May turn to a wolf when the wolfbane blooms
And the moon is full and bright
_____________________________
I could sing America before I drew breath, single bound tall buildings with a Jap in my mouth. I was taught to be scared of the fall, not of the death, and that a nigger’s a Negro, even down south.
My private tutors were Davy Crockett, Abe Lincoln and John Wayne. My coaches Tarzan and Ford and Alley Oop. I dated Monroe and Bergman and the jet-propelled plane. And drunk moonshine and Coke and LSD soup.
I was reared by a world made of tears and concrete. I’m strong by millions and ready to start scraping the shit from the yellow brick road, ready to pull the motor out of the rust. I’m strong by centuries of “Be free. Be kind. Be just.” I’m strong by bleeding the weaker man’s pain. I’m strong by seeing my own weaknesses plain. I’m strong by millions and ready for my work.
A Poem by Joseph Meeks
 |
| a mighty wind did fall |
When first the earth
came into being a
happy wind was born.
the wind was mild
and caressed blue sky
as yet unknown.
As aeons passed the
wind did change for
it viewed man's greed.
the wind brought its
mighty wrath and
took away man's deed
-from Ken Kesey's Jail Journal
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