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Clarity

Happiness is a clean windshield.

Why is it not the 2nd through 400th insect that commits suicide on your windshield that “bugs” you,  but rather the first one?

Which seems to be the dragonfly that just left Burger King,  having finished a double whopper,  large fry, cherry pie and mint milkshake?

Right about left of center, of your line of sight causing you to keep bobbing your head around to see the traffic?

 

 

Anger Mismanagement

A drug less addict, couldn’t be stranger

For I must be,  addicted to my anger

 

Must be,  has to be something

Without it,  I fear,  I am nothing

 

Really,  no reason,  to stress or strife

I’ve a beautiful wife and a good life

 

All of the bills, they do get paid

And despite my darkness I get laid

 

Get my heart & head, on the same page

That might dismiss, some of the rage

 

Should it be my fate

To always be irate

 

My mind,  conjures,  images so vivid

About fears so clear,  I get livid

 

Cognitive dissonance, my contemplation

Probably causes most of my indignation

 

Peace and tranquility of which I aspire

Still find myself bloated with ire

 

Searching searching,  for the right path

One wrong turn, leads me to wrath

 

With all my blessings,  should be glad

Why then am I,  always so fucking mad

 

Peaceful thoughts is my stated claim

End up regardless mostly inflame

 

Excuses,  endless,  none any good

Changing my attitude as I should

 

Quickly must act, not to be bereft

Or it will be me, and no one else left

 

Taking responsibility is my aim

For there is no one else to blame

 

Efforts, effective so far have been trite

A fix in the works, continue to write

 

Everyone is worth all the great while

Perhaps I could start with a friendly smile

 

Sooner the fix, be thrilled then

Improving lives of my children

 

To finish this up,  I’ll make it a  twofer

My poem,  and Ozzy’s Secret Loser

Secret Loser

Trapped in a lonely body
I’m losing control
Can’t show my emotions
And I’m losing my soul
Could it be that I’m obsessed
With feeding my disease?
I couldn’t make it known
The hidden things that no one sees

Yeah, loser
I’m a secret loser
Loser
I’m a secret loser

Fighting a losing battle
Pretending to win
Repenting to holy unknowns
Pretending to sin
All I do is hide the wounds
Where blood just won’t congeal
Couldn’t ever take my soul
‘Cos isn’t there to steal

Yeah, loser
I’m a secret loser
Loser
I’m a secret loser, now

Though I’m the loser, there is no winner
There’s nothing left to win
The hidden reasons now in deletion
Are lost in sin
So heed my warning, the time is dawning
I’ll tell you, here’s the twist
The truth is lying, below the surface
I don’t exist

Loser
I’m a secret loser
Loser
I’m a secret loser, now

Seeing is not believing
It don’t mean a thing
Although it appears to be that
The loser is king
I can understand that what you see
You think is real
But underneath the surface
Is a wound that cannot heal

Yeah, loser
I’m a secret loser
Loser
I’m a secret loser
Loser
I’m a secret loser
Loser
I’m a secret loser

No me

No friends,  no me

No income,  no me

No disagreeing,  no me

No sanctuary,  no me

No sleep,  no me

No opinion,  no me

No control, no me

No parents,  no me

No me,  to know me

(I guess I could better explain the above,  however,  that to me, would lose its poetry-ess-ness.) (What a rookie, can’t believe I left these parenthesesed comments in.)

Sometimes there is not even a me to consider a me to cease existing me being a me.

But wait,

Hope and appreciation.

My ears to hear is me

My eyes to see is me

My fingers to touch is me

My nose to smell is me

My tongue to taste is me

My brain to think is me

My heart to feel is me

My wife is my love to me

My children are inspiration to me

My blog to express is me

My driving is freedom to me

My creativity is divine to me

My laughter internal is me

My mind evolving is me

My soul knows me and no me

I knew I’d find enough know me to not know no me.

Maybe,

I should have titled this the narcissistic.

Me, me, me, me, me, me, me.

Derailed Train of Thought

Ever wonder,  if the rail car manufacturers painted their equipment with fancy artwork,  creative designs,  balloon lettering,  coded messages that the graffiti artists would simply paint over them with single solid colors?

A simple thought

Live life so that your hagiography

Becomes closer to your biography

Forget Amnesia

I just realized

I use amnesia

As a coping skill

I dismiss the act

Whether it be me

Or somebody else

But not the anger

Forget Amnesia

I will deal with it.

Plus,  let anger go.

Spooky Language

Identity Theft

Ooooh, I am scared!!

The warnings,  come over my radio,  from the “high paid”,  “voice over” guy.

With, practically “Vincent Price” tonal qualities,  of impending personal disaster.

Sometimes,  even on the tv, riddled with “lock” icons, and red images, running.

“Statistics” piled high,  in rapid intense succession.  Using cautionary tales of woe, simply based on the “numbers”, that YOU, YOU,  or even me, could be next.

Quick, where’s my security blanket.  Ahhh.

I must hide, from the identity “stealer”.

Wait,  that voice over guy,  is now informing me, that, if I pay their “security” team a monthly “fee”, they, will “protect” my identity. They, “guarantee” it.

Oh, mommy, could it be true?

Whew, how quick can I sign up?

Someone might access your credit cards,  or tap into your ” bank” account,  yet it’s not identity theft.

It sounds like invasion of the body snatchers though, meant to keep the masses in fear and transferring $ from you to the corporments.

Turning fear into cash. All done with careful and clever, language, sound and image manipulation.

Another layer of corporment controlled socialism,  fascism,  fear-ism, guided illusion,  that if it didn’t generate so much “free” money, it wouldn’t exist.

Remember.

It’s impossible for someone to steal my identity 5fm

Nor my personality,  I’d have to have one first. Obviously,  if I have time to sit and think up this post.

Also, the system of the world we live in, may be the only one we know, (right now)  however, it’s not the only one.

Funny Proof

That there is a God force.

Stand up comedians, and ironically,  even, the atheistic ones.

Magically manifesting all the creativity of putting god (Words) from thoughts (god head ) into audible art.

All in perfection,  sequenced in such as way as to raise our consciousness.

Seamless in effort, with terrific timing, perfect pauses, tempered tonality, staccato stutters,  vicious vocalization,  malignant moodiness, clever courage,  benign brevity, acrid aphorisms, political pontificating,  fresh frankness, real reasons, dogmatic discoveries, infinite intelligence,  questioning questions and indefensible arguments.

Vocalizing “truths” presented humorously  in many forms, from the soft warm gentleness of an intimate breathless whisper,  to the banshee wailing warning of impending apocalyptic Armageddon.

Either way,  only presented as tentative truths expressed raw for you to decide,  as to what feels right and good.

Not printed in a detrimentally deceptive conniving controlling structured book,  numerically referenced chapter and paragraph policy outlined fantastical false fairy tale.

The ones passed down by costumed zealots,  instructing you how to interpret it their way, to best serve their needs,  not yours or humanity’s

We ignore this at our own peril.

Debating creationists is slippery. When your opponent doesn’t have to adhere to facts or logic, it’s tricky to find traction.

My friend Zach Weinersmith once wrote that it’s not that most creationists are anti-evolution, it’s that they’re anti-some distorted version of it told to them by their pastors.

Phil Plait

The opposite of profound truth is another profound truth.

Niels Bohr

The comparison, of “truths” about disciplining children.

Proverbs 13:24

New Living Translation

Those who spare the rod of discipline hate their children. Those who love their children care enough to discipline them.

Christopher Titus

“Tough Love” from  “Neverlution”

“In that  moment,  I got one of those pure truths of this life”. “You got to abuse your kids a little bit ” //  But,  in today’s world,  with what is going on, you got to suck a little trust out of them, a little love. //

Louis CK

“Other people’s kids”, from “Hilarious”

“Stop hitting me, you’re huge, how could you hit me? That’s crazy,  your a giant,  and I can’t defend myself. // Here’s the crazy part about it. Kids are the only people in the world you’re allowed to hit.//
They’re the most vulnerable and the most destroyed by being hit.

Given,  the choice of those three truths,  the one that rings truest,  with “god” like clarity is Louis CK.

Besides that,  the one that best suffices, logic and reason,  is Louis CK’s.

In researching stuff for this post,  (since it took a turn,  I hadn’t planned) the biblical version of “spare the rod,  spoil the child” had many different versions,  from a wide variety of translations.

All, mostly vague, and contextually disperse, enough to confuse. With so many versions and so many subtle differences,  the contradictions are overwhelming.  How is that prop, still used, as a tool, to declare “truths”.

As for the Christopher Titus bit, it is clear, yet a little misguided.  However, in context of the abuse he endured from his father,  has to dissuade himself of the cognitive dissonance of simultaneously wanting to love his father and excuse him of the abuse.

I think Christopher Titus is funny, yet the notion that “in today’s world,  with what is going on, you got to suck a little trust out of them, a little love.” The exact opposite would be more useful, build a world where trust is absolutely imperitive and love is overwhelming.

This took such a strange turn, should probably have made it in to two posts.  But, when “other” “forces” seem to be guiding phlanges across the letters,  in word and spaces, in english with punctuations. Figured, best to go with the flow.

All hail to the crafty clever conscious comedians creating commentary concerning copesetic cohesive consciousness.

Doug Stanhope,  Louis CK,  Patton Oswalt,  Chris Rock,  David Cross,  Marc Maron,  Kat Williams, Kathleen Madigan,  Dave Attell, Tammy Pescatelli, Lewis Black,  Christopher Titus,  Steve Martin,  Joe Rogan, Don Rickles,  Daniel Tosh, Carlos Mencia,  Bill Burr,  Eddie Murphy, Brian Regan, Paul Mooney, Jim Gaffigan, etc.

Deceased deities remembered remarkably relevant.

George Carlin,  Bill Hicks,  Richard Pryor, Greg Geraldo,  Mitch Hedburg, Sam Kenison, etc.

Plus, the Radio renegades,  Howard Stern,  Robin Quivers, Fred Norris.

Hacking hypocrisy,  punk’ing pretentiousness. Lavishing lucid laughter.

A crappie poem

The writing is on the wall
To serious been, all in all
Must laugh before I fall
Dungeon out must crawl
Poor taste do I scrawl
Not blog worthy, if at all
Only of a bathroom stall.

Well, this must be it
A poem about shit

A waste of words
To describe turds

If it is brown
Flush it down

Other color would be improper
Quick,  better call a doctor

One end it’s Reese’s
The other end, feces

What made me think
I could write about stink?

Seems kind of fraty
To prose a cow patty

Can it really be art
To rhyme with a fart?

A smelly narativ
Of a bilabial fricative

I’ve an idea
About diarrhea

What does it matter
On the bowl it splatters

To take a crap, it must be stolen
That which comes from my colon

It would be a real stinker
To jibe the sphincter

Hope this gets me out of my rut
A crappie poem, to get off my butt.

 

Just had to “flush” this out.

Failure

One thing I know for sure

Is being a good failure

Having to much tenure

Of which,  I find no cure

Muddled thoughts pure

In a state of darkened azure

Giving death it’s allure

Of that I only refer

Inclined I do demur

No plans I concur

I’m way to mature

It’s anger I want to inter

Reality is such a blur

Of life,  I intend no slur

To definitely defer

Time with the Grim Reaper

 

.

To succeed,  is to fail at failing.

I’m well on my way, to a great success. 5FM