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Dream a Reality

Posted 16 December 2003, 6.21 pm by Boy_of_Embers

Stop to smell the flowers.

Lush, its your reality i am dreaming.

Curse those words spoken so gently.


To soon for nothing at all.

Hide and seek in a field of bloody thorns.

Rip open the wounds.

Raw pain drips from our fingertips.

Spill your guts onto a lonely rose.

Let me show you the greatest nightmare.

Follow me into my reality.

Dream my pain.

All in the past

Posted 13 December 2003, 11.50 pm by Boy_of_Embers

I was caught thinking about the past. You tore me up inside. You promised forever. But it was all a lie. I never forgot, and never will. I thought I had moved on when I met another. For that brief period in time you didn’t matter. It was a happy time, until she too ripped my fresh new heart out. But I didn’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault. It was mine. I let it happen again. But the big mistake in all this was coming back to you. You knew and you played a new game with me. You lied to get out of seeing a friend just so he wouldn’t get mad. You were lost, and still are. I now look back and try to forget about you, my lush. But you haunt my every move. I can’t start a life of new when I’m speaking to you. So this is good-bye. Forever. I’ll never remember you, so beautiful. Good-bye.

I Will Not Hate You.

Posted 8 December 2003, 4.48 pm by Villager

Living as I do in Glasgow, I get to see the unpleasant side of human nature on an almost daily basis. Be it outright violence, verbal abuse or mere rudeness, there seems to be a substantial proportion of the population who share not a jot of my value of societal niceties and friendliness. There are, of course, also some very nice people here but that's quite besides the point. I get drunken juveniles making lots of noise outside my bedroom window in the early hours, I am witness to and hear of frequent vicious physical assaults, as a part time "retail assistant" I am in a prime position to bear the full force of the public's apathy and disregard for polite behaviour. If I walk down the street I shall be hounded by the homeless, (paid, aggressive) charity collectors and maybe, if I'm lucky, even the odd delinquent who feels I owe him money. In all, there are some very dangerous and unpleasant people walking around.

When this was new to me, I reacted to it badly. I was quick to condemn those who would violate my personal boundaries on acceptable behaviour, and feel something of a disgust towards them, as though they were a distinct and separable group in society. This is justifiable, probably, on the grounds that others certainly have no right to impinge upon my personal health safety or that of others. I always have despised aggression in most forms and I always will. It comes on a basic level of human dislike of needless conflict, and a more personal basis, as though I am somehow offended that others dare ruin my idealistic, childish dream for a peaceful and friendly society.

When I witness violence or mistreatment, it makes me both sad and angry. Sad because I feel it to be so terribly obvious that aggressive, unpleasant behaviour towards others is always unnecessary and wish that I were not condemned to resigned acceptance that others disagree. Angry because violence and mistreatment evoke a natural urge within me to intervene and force a just result. Sad because I empathise with those suffering from violence and know that such people suffer every day, everywhere. Angry because the society which produced they as well as I tolerates violence as an acceptable trait. Sad because I know it will never change, least of all as a result of anything I can do. At times I've even been brought to a desire to inflict severe suffering on those who would hurt others. A desire for a sharp application of social justice brings me to the point of wanting to hate these people, and it is tempting to do so given their actions.

Of late, though, I've come to appreciate something of another side to it all. The beggar who sits menacingly next to the Cash Machines shivers, his eyes glazed over with the cold. The mother who beats her children in the supermarket stops and her face contorts, the frustration and helplessness emanating from her grimace. The stone faced man bereft of manners asks for his cigarettes with a simple '20 Marlboro', yet beneath the words is an admission of discomfort in his tone, almost as though he were apologetic for being unable to ask properly. The youths who terrorise the city have moments of calm, and the look in the eyes reminds me that I too was once young, unsure and undeveloped, liable to be led to immoral things. I am forced to sympathise with context. Much as it would aid my love of the peaceful dream to hate these people, I cannot. Much as I would like to polarise them against people such as myself it would be a distortion of the truth. For, amidst the violence, shouting and anger, there exist small reminders that these people are human too. That I despise their behaviour is only natural, but if we forget that violent people can be victims too and that we are all fighting our individual struggles in this life, then we lose all claim to true civility ourselves. I do believe that a few truly evil people pervade our society, but I have also come to think that most are merely showing in graphic form how lost, confused and angry they are. Who I am I to brand them vile?

I'm Not a Freak

Posted 5 December 2003, 10.00 pm by Shaggy

Come closer. That's it, now look into my eyes. What do you see?

That was not nice.

Take a deeper look, a look at the honesty. Yeah, I know, my eyes have a sort of distorted look to them. Okay, I know my eyebrows are somewhat shaggy.

You know what, give up on my eyes. Look at me, in general. What do you see? I hope you see what I am displaying. No, not that!

My heart.

No, its not small. Sure, I'm not very large.. yeah, I know, I'm sort of a runt. Yeah, I know I can seem judgemental at times, and yes, I know I'm a nerd. Yeah, I've heard that before.

What's that? You don't trust me? I look shifty? But I've been nothing but honest to you! I've even given you my heart, taken directly from my rib-cage! Look how it still drips with my blood! How can you not trust me?

Yes yes, I realize you do not understand my gesture. Yes, I realize how you do not understand how having my heart means I am trustworthy.

Yes yes, I realize I am insignificant and deserve to die.

Oh, for crying out loud, give me that damn gun, I'll do it myself.

Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall

Posted 5 December 2003, 2.07 am by Villager

When I look in the mirror, the face that looks back is one of disdain, bordering on contempt.

Self reflection is a precious thing. To employ a cliché, life is what you, the individual, make it. Thus, in order to effectively shape the future the focus of analysis must be the self. The opinions of others are invariably useful, but the crucial component is internal conflict. I find myself at a stage in my life where I have all my options ahead of me, and with no obvious path I must look within myself in order to find direction. I make no pretence that such direction will be fruitful, but certainly for personal mental stability it is the only viable option.

This search is made easier by the fact that I have clearly defined interests and values. I like to learn, be in good company (even if I'm the only one there), to be in a peaceful and pleasant environment and go for the occasional jog. I love confectionary that's high in sugar. I value honesty, humour, modesty, intelligence, selflessness, kindness, inquisitiveness and other such traits. I hate violence, selfishness, arrogance and those who would subjugate others by force or ideology. In humankind I see potential to thrive as a mutually dependent society, each caring for all and poverty unknown. In reality I see a world of greed, superficiality, hypocrisy and vast energies expended for abhorrent goals, where inventive and terrible violences are dominant and virtue a mere trace element. The infinite sadness which results from this realisation is compounded by another more personal, inescapable realisation. That is, that the potential and reality of the world at large are effectively reflective of my own.

I feel I have potential as a human being. I have ideals and values and wish to make best use of the knowledge, abilities and strengths that I have and will gain. I wish to go about my daily business with a purpose, prosecuting my tasks with all the energy that the human form permits. I wish that my relations with others be determined by the ideals that I subscribe to. In short, I wish to live in such a manner that would be consistent with the pure and innocent, naive, even childish, idealism that exists inside, free from cruder urges. What deeply pains me is that I do not and never have.

What hope is there when I, so critical and condemning of those who exhibit displeasing behaviour, cannot yet control myself. I can sit and articulate grand principles and ideals and convince myself (if not others) that such things are as attainable as they are desirable. Yet, day after day, I fail to regulate my behaviour even closely in terms of my ideals. Whether it be lethargy, acquiescence to temptation or distraction by my human form, the struggle to simply behave in a manner which I know would be immensely rewarding on that childish, idealistic level, is not being won. I know I am a weak person, though I wish it were not so. That I, who profess to understand enough of myself to know what I want, do not act true to my words brings me in these early hours to a state of disgust. I despise my weakness and myself yet more for permitting it.

If I have failed to become something by virtue of inner strength, then perhaps the reflection that stares back with those accusing eyes will impel me to the greater effort that my heart would not.

Get your lyrics sung by the best

Posted 26 November 2003, 12.41 pm by Alexander

The world's greatest singers sing YOUR lyrics! Genius!

That it is not it, that is not it at all

Posted 22 November 2003, 11.53 pm by Shaggy

Communication is the purest and most necessary of human interactions. Yet it is also one of the most incomplete of human endeavors.

Take for instance the form of communication. One might say that the purest conversation is through touch. And yet sexuality is a joke of communication. People communicate without meaning during sexuality, loyal lovers make love to people who cannot make love, but can only fuck. Hearts torn, bitterness ensues... and... END OF SCENE.

That is not to say that sexual intercourse can never be communicative. However, in order for it to be such, meaning must be attached, for in itself sex is meaningless, a tool for meaning that is devoid of meaning itself, and thus potentially dangerous for people who wield the tool without any purpose. And, for that matter, those around such fools.

Many approach the same problem in a logocentric point of view. I would be one such hopeful dreamer. Language is the gift we are given, often abused but still a strong ticket toward meaning. If you doubt such a thing, listen in on random conversations. You will hear quotes from the Simpsons, reviews of the newest movie, implications of theories presented in philosophical treatises... language heard is expositional to language itself.

And yet there are still so many uncertainties. The loyal lover will always question the faithfulness of his or her significant other, because there is no way of knowing what goes on in another person's head. Fights would not ensue so often, bitterness would not be so disruptive and violent a power, had it not been for the purpose and meaning of actions... if one could just articulate, if one could just say what was meant... then perhaps...

Here we are moving on to impossibilities. One can never speak in a manner that would allow everyone to understand. My words are often misinterpreted, and many words of people more wise than I have been abused, meaning rearranged, misquoted, et alia, most often to serve selfish purposes.

Head down, we look at the earth, at our feet, at the mud and shit of our existence. Head up, we are knowledgeable that we are knee deep in the shit, and can only hope to some day rise above, and leave this wretched existence for something more tangible, something more than real.

Earth is both heaven and hell. Smiles promote happiness, physicality often promoting pain. We are at once our own anguish, and our own happiness. I hate you all just as much as I love you.

In fact, I cannot feel hate unless I had originally loved. Take for instance those who can hurt me enough to feel hate: I must love them in order to allow them such an affect on me. If I was indifferent, I would not feel hate. Passion is both a positive and a negative. Crimes of passion are all we have, yet so is the passion of love. They are, truly and most undoubtedly, the same.

I sometimes am extremely weary of the game we play on earth. I am sick of spitting, sick of existence in general. I cannot wait to play in the fields of eternity, where my screams of joy and agony can be heard across the stars.

Then, and only then, shall my voice be a supernova, exploding out and affecting all in the greatest and truest lie.

Where is the Love?

Posted 21 November 2003, 11.41 am by Green Mamba

[This was destined to be the opening post for Roadkill v365.2, but since circumstances cast my site into limbo, here goes…]

What's wrong with the world, mama
People livin' like they ain't got no mamas
I think the whole world addicted to the drama
Only attracted to things that'll bring you trauma
Overseas, yeah, we try to stop terrorism
But we still got terrorists here livin'
In the USA, the big CIA
The Bloods and The Crips and the KKK
But if you only have love for your own race
Then you only leave space to discriminate
And to discriminate only generates hate
And when you hate then you're bound to get irate, yeah
Badness is what you demonstrate
And that's exactly how anger works and operates
Nigga, you gotta have love just to set it straight
Take control of your mind and meditate
Let your soul gravitate to the love, y'all, y'all

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send us some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)

Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love
The love, the love

It just ain't the same, always unchanged
New days are strange, is the world insane
If love and peace is so strong
Why are there pieces of love that don't belong
Nations droppin' bombs
Chemical gasses fillin' lungs of little ones
With the ongoin' sufferin' as the youth die young
So ask yourself is the lovin' really gone
So I could ask myself really what is goin' wrong
In this world that we livin' in people keep on givin'
Makin' wrong decisions, only visions of them dividends
Not respectin' each other, deny thy brother
A war is goin' on but the reason's undercover
The truth is kept secret, it's swept under the rug
If you never know truth then you never know love
Where's the love, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the truth, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the love, y'all

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send us some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)

Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love (The love)
Where is the love
The love, the love

I feel the weight of the world on my shoulder
As I'm gettin' older, y'all, people gets colder
Most of us only care about money makin'
Selfishness got us followin' in the wrong direction
Wrong information always shown by the media
Negative images is the main criteria
Infecting the young minds faster than bacteria
Kids act like what they see in the cinema
Yo', whatever happened to the values of humanity
Whatever happened to the fairness in equality
Instead in spreading love we spreading animosity
Lack of understanding, leading lives away from unity
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' under
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' down
There's no wonder why sometimes I'm feelin' under
Gotta keep my faith alive till love is found

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send us some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)…

[Justin Timberlake & Black Eyed Peas - Where is the Love?]

So why the hell would I submit an article that involves someone like Justin Timberlake. Don’t get me wrong, I have no personal gripe with Mr Timberlake or his partners in rhyme, Black Eyed Peas, but when it comes to the more popular hum-didi-daa crap that passes for music these days, I tend to cross my fingers followed by a robust, “Get beeehind me Satan!”.
I don’t blame the artists either, because they are merely products of a society who’s values have fallen to the wayside. The music of our time reflects the mindset of the population at large, so there is nothing surprising in the sad reality that the International Top 40 contains countless one liners. Back to “Where is the Love?”. When I first heard the song I didn’t know who the hell these guys were (because like I said, I’m not a fan), but the words struck home like a bad-ass-mother-fucker with a Louisville Slugger in his hands and a serious inclination to do some bodily harm in mind. After that every time I heard the song I tried to listen more carefully to the DJ afterwards, but every time I missed it. Then last weekend it came over the radio while I was at home and the wife promptly informed me that it was by Justin Timberlake and I said, “Fuck no?” and she said “Seriously” and I said “You’re shitting me?” and she said “Nope” and then the song was over and the DJ announced (clearly for a change) “Where is the Love by Black Eyed Peas and Justin Timberlake” and I sat there with my jaw near the floor for at least a minute.
That prompted a quick search at Google and there she was, two pages (two whole fucking pages) of lyrics (meaningful lyrics) in a world ruled by hundreds of nothing-more-than-one-liner-advertising-jingles-with-hyped-up-beats.
Still, the chances that I would ever buy anything involving Justin Timberlake is slimmer than an anorexic Ethiopian, but teaming up with Black Eyed Peas and using his fame to ask the world a meaningful question for a change, pushed him up a few notches in my little notebook of “How to fix a broken world?” Now if only people would start listening to the words instead of swaying mindlessly to the rhythm of the latest advertisement for spending-your-money-on-meaningless-shit-under-the-pretense-that-you-actually-need-it, maybe (just maybe) there is still some hope for the future of mankind.

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They were done for an exhibition a couple of years ago . They asked for something to so with the summer. They are mixed media and oil paint on metal advertising boards - for ice cream.

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Props to Green Mamba for bringing the weirdness


80s candy bars were pretty good

only because i traded it for a candy bar in the 80's.

lol we all know you don't have a soul ghoti

my soul for some carbs...

But of course!


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