Q: What strikes your pity to be so prominent?
A: It is because whenever I see a person aiming to engage in Journalism, I see no more than the smile of insanity or excitement. Logic is never in the equation of Journalism, nor in its existence, and femininity has merely encompassed it, like a spread of peanut butter on a slice of bread.
Q: What makes you intolerant towards Journalism?
A: Journalism resonates upon its sole ingredient: excitement. The thrill of the chase after the truth, is much different than a spread of directions, a spread of paths, as this relates more to the lie. A lie is complex, as are emotions, and each emotion is a different path. The source of the confusion comes from simply witnessing these emotions in their drama. Unless someone has the idea of writing of lost cats or children with sore legs after kicking a ball, there will be the crudeness of engaging in the lie, itself.
Q: What is the lie, itself?
A: The definition of a lie is simple complexity. A complexity that creates numerous paths, this is a lie. A deception, that is easily convincing, marks the essence of the emotion. Journalism strikes me as the only weapon that employs this. The usage of emotions, and never the consolation towards them. The witnessing of tears or fear, for the sake of the camera, makes it a reality, despite both the emotions and the presence of a camera making the scene an unreality. The viewer had not been there, though viewed the deception through a lens, and it all becomes a mere “perception”.
Q: What do you make of perceptions?
A: It is the one-sided story, the essence of the debate, the source of division, as each “perception” created from a sight upon a television screen, creates the feeling of loneliness, separation, and anxiety. Each viewer of a screen has been deceived, and now they are the victims from which deception creates puppets. Each string, that is, from the puppet master, marks each separate path towards an emotion. A puppet is only a representation of a lifeless corpse, without the strings. With the strings, the puppet is seen to be wild. It moves, though is still lifeless and without a soul.
Q: And back to Journalism?
A: In utilizing the ingredient of excitement, truth is always ignored. Truth is never discovered in this scenario. A Journalist will be so intent in “rushing within the rush”, so to speak, that they will never make an attempt to look for truth. They rush, lost in the crowd of both spectators and those who perceive, that they remain concealed. Most of them are rushed on caffeine, creating a further “fast-paced” attitude, marking them as the perfect vessel to be the perfect puppet. The wild one, is like a corpse reanimated.
Q: What more of Journalism?
A: A complexity is merely an emotion, and each emotion creates deception. Each person conflicted with a “mental illness” is lied to, whether by Psychiatrists, or by their own thoughts. A simple cure, such as a pill, is still alike the simple cure, that is suicide. The remedy is never to become a robot, though to use logic to uplift those deep in their emotions. It is because, whether it be depression or simple fear, there is calmness that reveals itself as more daunting than the fear, itself.
“A woman’s world is in where her eyes have glimpsed the men who travel towards love, or the men who travel towards death. That is, a woman’s world is where her eyes see the Men of Peace, or the Men of War. Remaining in the center, makes her only able to see the lifestyle of Heaven, or the lifestyle of Hell, and she adopts only one, for she cannot adopt both. She is the flesh being sculpted, by a man’s actions. This is to say that a woman will travel upon one road, only to become lost, should the loyalty to her be abandoned. She’ll become lost, thus requiring further guidance. In what possible world is a woman, as land, able to surge herself on the course, through loneliness? Her vision is lost, without her creations. Without her creations, that is, without children or men, her eyes remain closed to the fixation upon a simple feeling. And that feeling is doubt.”
“Failure demands charity, and that charity generates itself from the findings of success. Successful people, that is, make their fortune from their mistakes, this is true; though, has anyone spoken of how an obsession over success, or a repeated encouragement for success, can entice the weaknesses of a being into becoming the greatest failure? When one rests, one is on solid ground, and no longer climbing an additional step. Each step may as well be a landing. An ‘obsession over success’ makes the person in disbelief over failure, so much that they believe it to be impossible. And, when the possibility is before them, staring at them, they behave like the intolerant and temperamental child, who simply wants their way.”
Where have graces taken thee,
When you shielded before fate and misery?
You play with the night,
Like a bouquet of roses,
Sniffed by children, and eaten by cats.
Believe me, in my woe,
You are the doomed harlot,
The failed woman of many curses.
Among that god between your legs,
There are eyes that cry a sorrow.
You glisten by day,
To glisten by night.
Both of body and complexion,
Does this aura arise.
And you make music through your sigh.
The sigh of pleasure,
The sickening sin of Lust.
You bled for God and his herd of Shepherds,
Felt Hell crawl on your naked skin,
And mistook it for Heaven.
These fields of ruin,
Are of my design,
Destined to bathe,
Among the odorous wine,
Of virgin blood and castrated swine.
Stretch your form, will you?
To the ends of the cruel Earth,
You’ll see a singing shape,
The scrotum and the shaft,
Was like a tower of gold,
Now but only rotten,
Was once a key to the Earth,
Grim faces torn everywhere,
Evil politicians and their false smiles.
You doomed harlot,
What maketh yourself of ourselves,
When we praise thee, and never the Lords,
Who drop tears, as you drop both blood and sweat?
“When stupidity rises against stupidity, it is the more comforting stupidity that will win.”
There are to those, whose face shines among,
Upon ivory canvases.
Though, yours that faces itself,
Upon the stark white shape,
Is there for my smears,
My foiled becoming,
Is for you to breathe,
As your lips remain idle.
It is due to me,
I have painted a scene,
A sight of a face, so texture-less in textures.
No life, I see, among this idleness,
Alike death, frozen, though still shows a tear,
Despite the upholding of my love.
I drew with the screams and sighs,
Of all my life’s failure,
To see, to see movement, and to see
The you who never was,
And never will be, to this broken day.
I am but a shade,
A meaningless man,
Who possesses loneliness,
Like a poisoned blade.
There is death about me,
Though, it only drains from me.
From my hands,
Spills the hopelessness of an empty life.
Though, from your face,
Spills the harrowing colors,
That eclipse me into the unknown.
“Curiosity is the branching stream of mortality, turning curiosity into what is placed upon existence, or reality. A curiosity over life, would make the theme of ‘existence’ hold the definition of ‘the existing moment’, before ‘existence’ becomes ‘non-existence’, perhaps during the next moment. For the same reason that an Atheist will repeat the words, ‘God is dead,’ is for the same reason that we’ll accept the death of a human. In life, we accept the death of existence. And, we deny continually the size and shape of anything never born, or never existed. Why is it, then, that in today’s time, we have retained a curiosity over the afterlife? Both religious folks and those of the sciences have studied the afterlife. Curiosity is born upon life, and life is the mark of existence. And should immortality be the custom for each human, we’d soon have a curiosity over death. Over creating life, we’d create death. Over creating beauty, we’d create ugliness. Even today, when we’ll name obesity as beautiful, we are leaning in that hideous direction. We no longer have a taste for beauty, nor a taste for life. We deny the spoken words of criticism, and name it negativity, despite criticism existing to better life. What is our curiosity? To see how the beauties of life flourish, or to see how the Hellish creatures of death flourish?”
“Without the fear of death, there is no fear, itself. That is, to fear, means to desire an end. An end to pain, would place fear and pain in a vicious cycle, to which fear makes us desire all amount of positive emotions, to cleanse the pain. Those emotions would resonate upon love. Love cleanses fear, and is in polar opposite to death. Therefore, without a fear of death, there would be no emotions. Once again, this is due to how fear generates the need for every other emotion, because fear remains as the most primitive and ancient emotion, to exist. After fear, and after when age matures a child enough so that they no longer fear the environment; that is, after adaption and strength takes hold of youth, there are the other emotions, connecting with human connection. To desire immortality, makes a human desire not life, but numbness. For that is due to when fear will create pain, fear and pain also reminds a human that they are alive, and not dead.”
“Through being immortal, each reality would become a vision through this Godhood. It would be each reality from death. We’d not experience Love, in this, because our immortality would become a new contagion. It’d be a dream, to be a God, though in this perfection, we’d not know Love, because Love is empty without its counterpart, that is Death. We’d even pray to ourselves, through being immortal, and perhaps see how miserable God is, not comprehending whether He has created himself, or if a demon has created Him. And, we’d pray to wonder whether if we’re in Heaven or still upon Earth. Earth, meaning Life, would be renamed Heaven, full of Gods, and an infinite amount of martyrs. Most of all, we’d see nightmares as real as when we were fools to deny God, and we’d see our creations becoming married to us; and that means, that nightmares, not a dream for life, but a dream for death, would be a vision for that immortality. This is to say that over life being raised, we’d raise demons, we’d raise the creatures from Hell; or, in more contemporary terms, we’d raise the people who murder, the people who slash their own wrists, and misery would be our life.”
“Why are there a number of scientists so bent on extending the human life beyond a mere century? To become immortal would embed the sheerness of the unfulfilled life into the individual. Because, to live forever, would never mean living one’s life to the fullest. The desire to live, stems from the fear of death. Therefore, the desire to live, would turn into the desire to die, should that fear of death be erased. Fear is exactly what drives life to fulfillment and accomplishment. It is a motivator, this fear, and no amount of science can ever comprehend this.”