A Dark Cloud (of pain)
rolling time into one moment...
A dark cloud drifts across many confused and broken lands. This cloud is
deep, opaque and as unfathomable as an ocean of murderous screams. Drowned
by an echo, a reflection that when almost touched disperses into senseless
oblivion. It is real yet it is untouchable, elemental and beyond our reach.
Our dreams, nightmares, the past, the present and future is now all rolled
into one, it is now all here at once for all of us to unwillingly share.

Mythology, that bastion of metaphorical and lateral reasoning has now
mutated into soggy wet dreams. All that has been said and learnt is nothing
but polite whispers, ideas of what could of been now placed onto the back
shelf, labeled utopian fancy. Humanities playground is about to be bombed
once more by apes grunting their fear of love, fear of real freedom and fear of mutualism.

Just like when wife beaters hate art, this male thumps at life choking
breath, kissing his real lover. And what is this replacement of his mother,
yes that's her, she is called death. Fucking life with a fist so full of
hatred he orgasm's. And what an orgasm that is, so respected in the name of
the holy father and all that is false, delusory and devoid of real love.
That unobtainable trophy of glory and abstracted masturbation.

The fantasy of sharing death with others is a dead-beat reality that we all have to unwillingly share. We are all being raped by the inadequate male's pounding fist. We have been manipulated and tied down by his hatred, his bigotry. The grunt is king of the world, enjoying his place on the stage as we all watch him wank all over our helpless faces. It is violent, it is pornographic, it is televised.

And as this dark cloud that has been stirred up by his lack of love for
others and himself seeps into our submissive hearts and minds. A depression
oozes above us, like colossus standing above looking down, hanging and
dangling, waiting to burst. All nations quake realising too late that
masculinity and its single minded narrow ignorance, was really a time bomb.
Time has arrived. Time is now all in one place - here and now.

That dark cloud of hatred, is man, the male, the monkey, the ape, the child, the woman hater, the lover of death and all things digressive. Just like dreams and bubbles, the cloud will burst, for that is what seems to be the law of nature. And when that excreta of ills explodes over our vulnerable psyche's. Death will reign, it will pour, as tears do when beauty stares in the face of honesty - for that is what we call pain.

Thoughts about world war 3, Sept 11 atfermath, and the male's obsession with death and his eagerness to make us all part of his fantasy. Originally published onto the Syndicate list and Rhizome Raw just after 9-11.
marc garrett's writings