Everything serves.
It's when some claim to serve a higher purpose I have to see a sort of ignorance hard at work.
That's a verbal detonator cap. Now let's look at the shrapnel, the chunky, crude rumblings of a servant. Important words like hope, divine, truth, right, fire, piss, dirt, time, life. Those nuts and bolts of the serving meander. The sense of light and dark in a winter forest where a man hangs from a maple tree, his hands bound behind his back with rags, a mucky bile oozing from his leg to a puddle in the snow.
A pound of very high velocity plastic explosive, also known as C4, asks: Why does the tree have to suffer the weight of his body? Must the tree also serve?
Well I don't know. I never really thought too much about the tree before now. That's a good question. But rather than answer it let's just put the pipe bomb down by the tree next to the puddle and set it for thirty seconds or so and obliterate the tree and Judas and everything around in one big shebang -- turn them to confetti and letters meshed with the screaming, snowy air.
Now I'm going to take off and you can observe this on your own. I've seen bombs go off before. It served no purpose.
6 comments:
Poor old God gets blamed for everything. That's what happens when you give something or someone else absolute authority-you are no longer responsible. THAT is a huge human weakness that is exploited by other clever humans. Maybe guilt is the one emotion that will ultimately prove our undoing.
Everything serves...even bombs...
years ago a whole 'shebang' was shattered in my world by them...one of them was a real one...
I was on the street taking a taxi when an Iraqi missile hit a nearby hospital...i heard nothing ... when you are away from an explosion you hear screams of the bomb... of the buildings... of the people, but I heard nothing ... i was in the shock wave... i was immersing in a thick meduim of nothingness... seemed as if everything was going on in slow motion... the mechanical time stopped and another clock started to ticktock... and i was living with all the people throughout the history feeling all their joys and fears...
All of a sudden the tick tock stopped and i was again on the street taking a taxi... everything was the same... untouched... except me...
There were other bombs attacking me... bombs of insincerity... jealousy... greed... lie... distrust... treachery...
And all the bombs were like that missile... they were upon me in the name of truth, divinity, life, and a bunch of other important words...
I changed... i decided not to use them ...not to write about them since they were hackneyed ... abused... they served just as a mask, a cover for all the evils...
I kept silent for many years... and one day i noticed something is forming in me ... something ticktocking to set itself free... Oh my! it was a bomb!
An I knew what a bomb was .. i didn't want to wipe everythig from the face of my world .. I didn't want the confetti of shattered souls cover the floor of my being... I'd seen all these throughout the history... and knew how it tasted...I wanted everyone -- no matter who s/he was -- to be there living her/his life... the bomb had to be defused... it took time... but it was.... i planted the seeeds of those important words in a new soil...
Ever seen the poem "Trees"?
I've never seen a bomb go off, thankfully. I know how to do and make many things, but I've never been interested in making bombs. My alter ego seems to though.
Everything serves.
Nothing in nature is wasted, until man messes with it.
Maybe guilt is the one emotion that will ultimately prove our undoing.
No, that would be greed. And anyone that doesn't think greed is an emotion is wrong.
Is it greed or fear?
sure it's fear... and where does fear come from?
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