Tylenol Induced Tendecies and Other People's Insight...

So we're going on a retro phase here, for the last post and this one.

Ok, so when I was in grade 11, Bro and I were in the same English class, with this MEGA, and I mean like drool on your ass hot intern. Anyways, this one day I was up on about a half bottle of tylenol and whatever other cold medication I could find. So I dont even remember it, but the next day I open my binder and found this poem that Bro says I spent half of class writing. kinda said seeing the length. oh well. I made a few minor changes about 10 minutes ago, and here is the final result. I like it. I call it "Existence".

I feel nothing
reality is void,
Senses are gone
cant see, can hear
taste, touch, inhale...
I cant breathe
I feel nothing
I sense nothing
Am I awake?
Is consciousness reality,
or is it all just a dream?
And if a dream,
Are dreams real, or imagined?
If imagined, does imagining constitude reality?
maybe dreams are reality.
What is reality?
Do we exist?
Maybe we do not exist...
Maybe existence is a dream
Do we need to exist to dream?
or dream to exist?
I feel nothing
reality is void,
Senses are gone
cant see, can hear
taste, touch, inhale...
I cant breathe
I feel nothing...
Am I real?


That better be on all separate lines. grr. oh well, I wanted to get rid of the really big words, but it wasnt clickin in my mind on what to replace them with...."consciousness" doesnt really fit in poetry.

Anyways, heres the other parts I wanted to post. This guy from Ontario, I'll call him Deadstar (his forum name). So this first bit is like a mini poem he showed me once, I just find it morbidly fascinating. And wonderfully sick. He calls it "Purity"

Shut up. Listen, listen very
closely to the pretty lady. Lady
doesn't want to talk to me.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your
defenses. Let me inside, inside
your door. Back in the back,
where the secrets are. I know all
your secrets. Yes I do. Shut up,
shut up, shut up.

Kinda creepy no? Isnt it fucking great? As for the other part, also from Deadstar, which I like to call his Ideals. I dont even remember what he posted them for, but they also intrigue me.

Ive come to the conclusion that i have to help you maggots. So being the soul i am, ive laid out a plan for which you can live your life by. Simple little lessons that any failure of social ambitions can understand.

Lesson #1: The human subject as processed through a vehicle must first be turned into an image by means of its own serial logic. Thus there is no independently real person. He or she is that image.

Lesson #2: The attitude of refusing to be spoken to by seizing the right to speak, challenges the institutional premises of the re-evaluation of the human sciences. Thus fearing to aggravate the argument.

Lesson #3: And finally. The effort to escape the mapping of form and beauty into a representation of exorcised ghosts by way of fluid visibility of boundaries, eroded by direct participation into a work of art is in fact a substitute for the revolution.

---------------------------------------------------

How... now that is a question worth examining. How could i being born of such conventional stock, arrive a leader of the rebellion? An escapist from a conformist world, destined to find happiness only in which cannot be explained. I brought you here for a reason but unfortunately, you and your sentimental minds are doing me no good. My brain is frozen, locked. I have to break free from this culture of mechanical reproduction and the thick incrustations dying on the surface.

So yeah, that'll have to do for things I feel like posting right now... I may get back to this later, I may not. In any case, good day, and fuck you.