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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| TWO MODERN BLOKES - BEFORE BLOKES WERE CAVEMEN
DOWNLOAD IT HERE
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| Two Modern Blokesin case you've been wondering what the crap i've been up to (which i know you haven't) i've been making awesome trashy noise with some friends! here's our latest effort:
tracklisting:
1. (08:04) Beat Sand Box
2. (13:26) Same Ol' Blokes and Edwardo Suave
3. (02:55) Beatsand Remix
M4A in a zip
http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?mdgienjjjmj
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| SELFelitism. it is something that i feel like people have a problem with that i recently have felt the need to change about myself. on the contrary i have found that my elitism stems from the drive to better myself. this paradox clashes internally as one side cares what others think and how others see me as the other side cares only about being better to the self.
now as "better" is a relative term based on how one feels, it is also countered by "better" a factual term with measurable standards. the two are intertwined in my mind and seem harder and harder to separate every day. the easiest thing for me to do is to realize them as one thing and to forever state my opinions as hard-headed facts which will undoubtedly irritate and push away people in my life who respect me for being a person who can look at two sides of a matter with objectivity.
the problem here is that without a hard-headed view of my version of better, i have no drive to become it and therefor become a wet blanket instead of doing things which are interesting and productive which will fill my potential showing and using the intellect combined with creativity that i know i have. in other words, i want to be my best but don't want to step on any toes. this is becoming increasingly more and more frustrating for me.
what i want is for someone i respect to realize myself as a person to respect. this somehow includes stepping on the toes of masses of idiots who don't know or understand how to read intellect through art and will be subject to my sneers and glares and general contempt. i have got to stop pretending to want to be liked by everyone i come across even though i realize they are not on the same page as me. i have got to stop being jealous of people who ARE on the same page as me and are more successful.
fuck you sensitivity you're destroying my world.
i need to become what i was. a faceless nameless coward lashing out at the world of peers that stepped on him in the past. fuck you peers, this forgiveness stops here. fuck that hippie bullshit of love and understanding and other peoples problems matter too. fuck you corporations pushing products that everyone needs. fuck you capitalism, the only system that works and is maybe the fairest but still unfair. fuck you most of america, especially in the south you piece of shit bigots and racists and idiots. fuck all the old ladies who watch oprah and try to form opinions about social and racial problems yet still remain racist and still don't understand what caused america to get this bad. fuck you fucking business pricks who only care about money and sex. fuck you everyone else who only care about money and sex. fuck you commercial america for making this country about money and sex. fuck you money and fuck you sex for trying to be important and distracting in my life. fuck sensitivity right down the drain. hurt feelings are learned experiences. jadedness makes you experienced. fuck all you rapists i hope you rot out from your diseased assholes. fuck all you peolpe having children in this fucked up shitty world and fuck you children all innocent yet not. you'd better think hard about what you're protecting your children from. fuck your preconceptions (all of them). fucking fuck zen right in the throat. it's just another drug to feel blank and secure and hide from the world. so fuck you jack keroac. your zen means nothing except escapism which is important to you because you're a coward like me. just another fucking coward.
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| i keep my mind in a plastic bag
wrinkled and frozen and mostly
in the meat department.
as for the meat, it rides into life rot
steady and fast over the last few years
like cowboys who've saddled
wild west horses;
healthy and swell
and with manes that flow darkly
sparking the interests of young women
everywhere.
i wish i were the cowboy
so they could
surround me
more often,
but recently i find they're too ghastly
too vacant too snakelike and coldhearted
too much like the meat department
where my mind still resides.
i thought things would change
that my mind would move around more
but i think it likes the air in there.
the crispness makes clarity much more exciting
it's still seeping thoughts and they drift along the floor
with the steamy moist air that comes in
and blows out
when i open the door.
i get footing in a place and try to fetch it out
but all of those drifting thoughts swirling, entangling
my muscles and structure, and my mouth corners
curling while my tongue is flailing about needless instructions
that undo my intentions while incompetence engulfs me.
my warmhearted words get scrambled to just utterings
and off goes my talkbox
lips locked
shitting cold words
i'm not funny
or meaningful
just wealthy
with probably
lies
or half-thought-out conceptual, illogical bullshit.
you're probably mostly
confused and bewildered.
you think i'm all full-of-it,
idiot, figure-of-manliness, obviously
trying to belittle the tiny things
that make up your psyche but if
you think you can honestly
handle the machinery, the doorway
to the meat room is unlocked for entry
but don't say my warnings
weren't clear enough
please.
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| the public process
creates the stark contrasts of
bold indecision that sweep through
the bum corners of this old painted town
send me back and
crown me king i'll change the ripe smells
you consider unworthy i'll keep on growing
up but i'll never be a man
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