Pigs of the World Unite!

Sense and sensitivity

2005-03-07T18:27:00.000-08:00

You do for others to not expect anything in return.

Unexpecting gratitude, they need not even know you did it for them.

You suffer in silence, your actions never existed.

As far as they know, you're unaware.

Ironically, they are.

You've been working your magic in the shadows.

You've been watching over the unsuspecting.

You've been waiting all your life for someone to realise.

Yet suddenly you're under scrutinising observation.

Your pure intentions blemished.

Not by you.

You instantly lose the magic touch.

Your shimmering glow fades into the shadow you were working in.

You've been placed in the cold.

Left in the dark.

One after another things seem to worsen. Blacken.

You curl into a bundle.

The void is your only company.

When the light will find you, is when you will find the light.

When you don't give up.

When you show them what you've done.

You've done because you care.

When you show them it was you.

That's when you'll spread those clipped wings.

And work your magic from the skies.

Nothing will peg you down.

Nothing will cease the magic once again.

Valentine's victims

2005-02-14T11:59:00.000-08:00

Victims of St Valentine

will blame the atmopshere,

of couples holding hands and waists,

the lonely shed

a tear.

Cupid takes a holiday

to let counterparts vivaciously search,

for those who are the

isolate

and those left in the lurch.

Romancticism,

language of the dead.

Yet behold the beauty which

few shoddy words are said.

The rough and the gruff,

superficial masks

on this day whisked aside

To show man's camaraderie

a compassion to confide.

Yet disregarding still, stands tall the solitude stature

of the lonely dead,

a voyeur gazing sadly

satisfaction not met, not fed.

For no one will reach out to them,

they are the lonely dead.

The victims of St Valentine

will never again awake from bed.

Take a moment brothers and sisters,

take a look around you so you see.

There's more compassion to give out

to your camaraderie.

They may not be your loved ones,

but what is a loved one truly?

Embrace a stranger, and be sure

Satisfaction will follow duly.

I can drive you insane

2005-01-30T21:48:00.000-08:00

I can drive you down the street, I can drive you up the hill.
I can drive you to the shops, preferably when traffic's still.
I can drive you to the park, maybe on the grass as well.
I can drive you quite insane, I don't know if you can tell.

I can drive you left or right, I can drive you night or day.
I can drive a three point turn, but please tell me it's ONE way.
I can probably drive in reverse, but it's better that I don't.
I can drive up onto curbs, let's just say for now I won't.

I can drive you far from home, even close trips I can do.
I can drive round the estate, pointless.. but it's up to you.
I can drive you legally, in another month you see.
I can drive, yes I can drive!! Don't hold back your jealousy. :D

A Revelation

2005-01-27T22:38:00.000-08:00

It has come to my attention that majority of the studying population tend to disappear into the abyss of procrastination. No longer in any physical contact with reality, the mind slips into a coma of unconsciousness while the etiolated body shrivels up in the shadowed four walled cage, yet to the onlooking voyeurs of ignorance there may seem no difference to their own practices. They are the same. They don't care. They are unaware and not wanting to be aware. This indifferent disregard for ongoings may be the vices which cause the dramatic downfall of these tragic marionettes.

Once upon a time, delaying and wasting time did not matter. Idle chit chat and strolls were a thing of habit and orthodoxy. Stepping out of this cubic world was looked upon as challenging a doctrine. Well sound the bells. The cold, hard facts of current times suggest increasing the speed of the past to match that of sound as closely as possible. You miss a step. You're gone. You blink. You're lost. No seconds can be spared for turning a head. This does not mean to say one may not sniff the flowers, but only to tacitly implicate that it should be done whilst charging ahead with the stampede.

Yet as slaves to this unknown matrix, they are unconcerned. Correction. They simply do not give a damn. Despite the rush hour of last minute struggles, the whole cycle is repeated again as interest and concern is flung aside with strong distaste. They don't care. They don't give a damn. The twenty first century has gone through the process of evolving from the era of neaderthals to a epoch of advancement and development, then inadvertently devolving back to the lack of care. These ignoramuses may not want to shed away the flaky bad habits disgracing the gift of the third dimension, however the rest of the world has shed away these bad habits.. And they don't give a damn either.