Thursday, June 12, 2014

The Creator's Paradox

To You Who Must Be Reading Now:

This is not a history of our culture to celebrate our Greatness,
this is simply a warning: a bit of salt for you to take a grain of:

To speak of this tiny speck of dust floating in the Milky Way,
is to speak underwhelmingly about the scope with which we feel decay.
Beyond the harvests of nature, the planet's most startling feature,
is how easily the balance it achieves can be ardently built and slain.
Progress is the wisp upon the tightrope of the Ether;
we are only Conscious because the Mind's growth wasn't eager.
Our Objects are the winds that could deny Hope.
They evolved with the patience of the Praying Saint.
Us blasphemers should then recognize that we've made mistakes.
With passion compressed to the Quantum core,
something God-like took action and then... concocted war?
The Paradox of Creation.
Whether we're prepared or not we must face it.
Out of the Technocracy comes,
the result of our profits: our guns...
Out of the collective consciousness comes
an out of focus mental storage unit of Vodkas and Rums.
Barbarous crushing of our silent unity.
Flow flushed from the fastened grip of Time's Congruency.
Just take a brief look into the sky and muse with me.
Few can see the Truth when engaged in its demise.
And the End approaches quickly merely playing for its Prize.
Poetics pushed along the Prophet's prudent page.
He speaks to prove the promises he couldn't gauge.
She screams to move the eyes until they look away!
Just peek inside the coffers and you'll see the gold.
To think we could just chain the Massive;
is to overreach with our agenda;
to think we could enslave the Fates:
A simple loop of logic makes us think we can leash the Soul.
But the heart is just the engine.
And the mind is just extension of the Nature we control.

To speak of this gargantuan footprint:
perspective shifting to see the glistening brooks,
yet... concrete fills the void between abstraction and just when
you think you've found a focal point you're distracted by lust,
yet... she's only truly another worker bee in the colony.
Don't test the strength of nature and Flirt with freedom obnoxiously!
A prophecy: it burns to be in its wrath.
This mechanistic circus of circuitry comes complete with a trap:
when you find it embedded so deeply behind your meaningless Mask,
we won't judge you if you choose to take your Liberty and escape.

This is the day God chose to raise the white flag.
Mission: abort.
Mission... abort!

Epilogue:
a fragment left behind by the Prophet:
The rebirth: another born again with sword to flesh.
Let the organ rest, let the poorest get their portions let
the horrors get abhorrent deaths.
Let the forest be enormous, let the orchards be absorbent,
let the fortunes get proportioned into more than sex.
Let the torrents bless the florist, let the gore repent!
Let us Rebuild:
A fort for men to stay the same and fort for men to make the change.
let the cures commence, let the forward stretch and break the chains.
Let us take away the power these elites possess.
Liberty! No cover ups and sneaks to catch!
No suffering or wondering what's to eat or where to sleep
or how our feet stay covered and disease is met
with ample resistance.
And where the beach is clean.
where the breeze is free and the scenery is green.
Pristine: where mammals exist with other animals
brisk... with just a little tangible bliss.

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