Writing on the Wall

by Anonymous

Avante garde, rock the vote, open the doors or break on through, satoris, manifestos, diatribes, rants, philosophical meanderings of a sublime nature, the construction of a world I don't want, the decent moral majority, hormones, nice breasts, free food, things I like, things I hate, confessionals not yet crafted, immortality of a non- carnal nature, sacrifices to a God shrouded in questions, a river that is a ditch, the police state upon us, the enforcement of laws we no longer believe in, the hypocrisy of a lethargic and banal society, a world so infused with beauty yet so overlooked by it's inhabitants, my kittens, my fiancée, the car I wish I had, an assault upon my senses that leaves me screaming with joy and weeping with sorrow, recreational drug use, recreational drug abuse, a night of debauchery unwritten, wine women and song, turning the page, Bob Seger, Kid Rock, Johnny Cash, Thomas Mann, Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, love your life out, Douglas Adams, Michael Moore, lions tigers and bears oh my, everclear, broken homes, redeemed souls, tattoos, immortality of a carnal nature, grace, salvation, the revolution, a revalation, good drivers, bad drivers, toys, ninjas, video games, theatre, echoes of societies long since past, crafting a future only our great grandchildren will appreciate, 2000 years of selective breeding and people go see "Dude, Where's My Car?", the largest carnivore to ever walk the earth wears a discuss of technology and religion yet points it's fingers at a lizard of the past, Levi's, Abercrombie and Fitch, the build a bear shop, motorized presidents, video killed the radio star "I heard you on my wireless back in '62….lying awake intent on tuning in on you", the most successful book ever written has been subjugated to more censorship and rewrites than last weeks issue of "High Times", zig zags, scrabble tournaments, pac man, rivulets of blood forming words upon a claymation wall that aren't found until their meaning has been passed over and their significance reassigned, line 24 column 31, the fact that even at three in the morning the street lights still change color even if no one is waiting for them to, homeless veterans, coddled athletes, lack of money and wasting it on my new digital mouse, not changing a single solitary thing about my life because it all adds up to who I am and I happen to like that person, using words in an effort to change the world but realizing that with that knowledge comes the ultimate truth-"the world is perfect just the way it is it's our illusions that are the problem"- Jack Kerouac, Elvis was a bitch and I don't care who shot J.R. however I can't wait for each season premier of x files, why'd they cancel quantum leap, I'm rambling again aren't I? I chose to write, I did write, and I will write because I celebrate everything this world is and everything it's capable of. Why did I start writing? Because it terrifies me to think that one day I'll forget how much I love existence in spite of how hard it tries to spoil it's own image. Everything I write is a souvenir. I could just become another old man lose my joy and become an oblivion seeker. Too many people become so distracted in life that they forget to celebrate it. Without hatred we wouldn't know love, without tragedy there would be no salvation, if things didn't suck we'd never notice when they rule. Me personally, I could go for an apple raspberry fruit works right now.