______ ______ ______________ | | | | \ | \ / \ / ____ \ ______| | |________| | / \ | |____ | ________ | ( {} ) | _____) /~~~~~~~~~~~ | | | | \____/ | |______ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~\ | |~~~~~~~ / \ / \ / | ~~~~~~~~~| | | | |______| |______| /_____________| | | | | | | | | ...Hogs of Entropy Text Files Present... | | | | | | | | "Everything Inbetween" | | | | | | | | | | | | By: IM2K4U2C | | | | | | \ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ / ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hate me. Hate me with your fist and hate me with your tounge. Hate me with your actions and hate me with your words. Hate me because you love yourself. Hate me. Hate me because I hate myself. Hate me. Pretty good year, pretty good year, pretty good tear. Dripping down my cheek. Hate me. Hate me because I love and hate me because I am loved. Hate me because I hate myself. I wait patiently for a scream. There's a face that I want to see that's not here. I forget why I'm here. In his song _God_, John Lennon professed his disbelief in the existence of God. He said that God is a concept, by which we measure our pain, and then went on to say that he didn't believe in either the Bible or Jesus. The existence of a God has been one of the most widely debated topics throughout human history. Wars have been fought. People died. Uncountable people have died arguing the qualities of their God. The question remains: Was Lennon right? Was God just something put together by humans who needed something to hold onto, when everything else had left them? I was there. I was there and I felt that I was being brainwashed. I thought that they were trying to convert me into something that I was not. Two plus two equals four, I mumbled, in my weak and trembling voice, as they took their book and waved it in front of my face. I took my life and I waved it in front of theirs. You're fascists, I told them, but they didn't listen. They just opened their books and began to read, shutting out my voice, and tuning into one that they could not even hear. The voice of God. And I wondered how anyone could still believe in God. How could every pew of the church be filled with men, women, and children? How could these people willingly sit and allow themselves to be brainwashed? How could these people subject their children to it? I could see the priest as Hitler, shouting out to the masses at Nuremberg, convincing people with promises of a future that would never come to be. And the priest/Hitler would smile, and the crowd would erupt into loud cheers, as if they were seeing God itself, rather than a human who was wearing a God mask. And then I realized how every pew of the church could be filled. When these men and women were children, their parents took them to church, and it was there that they were first brainwashed. And the cycle has just been repeating and repeating over the generations, as they would take their children, and their children would take their own children. And the cycle kept spitting out more and more people that were ignorant spelled out in the Bible. According to the Bible, the Earth should be a little over four- -thousand years old. Through the use of carbon-fourteen-dating, we know that the world is roughly four million years old. How could the Bible, the word of God, be wrong? How could God be wrong? How could millions of people ignore the truth? Add that to the fact that the Bible had been written by humans; humans just like you and me, who were fallible and subject to human faults. Humans, who just as Lennon said, could been constructing their own little fantasies to keep themselves from the pain that all people feel. And I wondered how anyone could still believe in God. I thought I was being brainwashed, and I was right. Faceless men with boring voices were trying to turn me into something that I was not. They were trying to make me forget a life that I was more than happy to be living. They were trying to get me to sacrifice the only thing that I had, which was myself. If it had affected me, it was in a way that I could not notice. If it had taken me from where I was, then there was no way that I could tell. All in a world where Jews and Arabs are still killing each other over there own perceptions of God, and respect is more important than a child's life. HATE ME. Hate me with your pen and hate me with your paper. Hate me with your kiss and hate me with your touch. Hate me because I love myself. Hate me. Do you need a woman to look after you? I pick one of the daisies out of the ground and it dies. You make pretty daisies hate me. Hate me because I am me and only me. Hate me because I love myself. We give them our money. We give them our money hoping that the fat in our thighs will disappear, hoping that our noses will shrink, hoping that the red blotches on our faces will disappear, hoping that we'll begin to look less like ourselves and more like the people that we see. We give them our money to become something that we're not. I want to write a poem about hate. I want to write words that hate and that claw and that rip and that hurt. If it had affected me, it was in a way that I could not notice. If it had taken me from where I was, then there was no way that I could tell. In the end though, a fundamental change had taken place and although the revolution was silent, it had occurred, and as long as it had, then that was enough. And what are we left with? A world too conscious of it's own image that it won't even look upon itself? A newspaper that serves only to gratify and glorify those who contribute to it? Or someone with so much to say but possessing no voice with which to say it? In a world with so many questions, is it any wonder that the search for answers only leads us to more of them? And when the change had happened were they too ignorant to see it or too intelligent to perceive it? Probably a little of both. Is what went around finally coming back around? They say that ignorance is no excuse from the law. Why the hell not? What do you find in a kiss? You find whatever it is you're looking for. If you're lucky, you might find yourself. What do you find in a kiss? Nothing and everything at once. A funny thing happened to me on the way to my wedding: I woke up. What's funny is that in dreams we don't ask each other about how we're going to support ourselves. We don't ask each other about health insurance or children or about what's going to be on the table for dinner. I look into her eyes and love consumes all thought and becomes not only the ends, but the means as well. It is a sad society that we live in where money dictates so much of what we do. That money could influence such a primal urge as love is one thing. But that it could cause New York City EMS workers not to resuscitate an infant due to fear of lawsuits, is something totally different. There is something morally wrong with this. It's no secret that Americans as a majority have screwed up morals, but to let an innocent child die because money's at risk, that's sick. Dead flowers hang from the ceiling. A dead flower lies in a glass on a shelf. Untouched for years. Dead flowers lie beneath a blanket of snow. Ready to bloom again in the spring. Dead flowers, untouched for years. A wilting soul, untouched for years. Love and hate and everything in between. Everything in between. Everything is not what it seems. That is humanity. This is the future and more and more the promise of such things as Virtual Reality and the "In-ph0-mation Superhighway" look to be farther off in the distance, Interactive television looking more and more like an over glorified _Captain Power_. This stuff is going to cost millions if not billions of dollars. Where is that kind of capital going to come from? Will it be just another part of the Federal deficit? This is technology that could change our lives at a fundamental level, as much, or even more than television has done. Will it be given a chance? Probably not. The point? We are fundamentally made to believe that money is the most important substance around. What's sad is that in today's society, it is. Maybe the revolution was a bit too quiet. I write the conclusion before I write anything else, because every ending is just another beginning. Sarcasm? Oh, what's the use of any of it? We all just pass on in the end and nobody remembers us. I should just do what every sane youth in my town is doing: Settle back with a cool frosty one in the company of my friends, passing the night away in a hazy stupor. Better yet, I could partake in my standard night time activity: getting comfortable in front of the television, while occupying myself with other functions. Television? Television is not about entertainment, and is most certainly not about all of the things that Ricki Lake tells us. Television has one goal, and one goal only: To make money. One only has to look at the decline of network television and the rise of premium cable channels, as well as _Pay-Per-View_, to see that people are coming up with even more ways to make money off of TV. People have taken a viable medium that could actually help us and turned it into yet another way to turn a fast buck. One must think that even if Cyberspace did come about, would there be commercials? Yes. Untouched for years a soul blooms again with a touch. A dead flower lies in a glass on a shelf. I pick it up and drink the air out of it. I drink the memories and the essence and the fragrance. A rose that's been dead for too long is touched by love, hate, and everything in between. But flowers still grow. Even in the battered, desolate soil of Sarajevo, seeds still fall to the ground, blossoming into beautiful flowers, amidst the civil war and murder. As I write this, the face of a young girl smiles the most beautiful smile that I've ever seen somewhere, in some other place far off. I know it's happening and I need no further proof then this to know that there is still hope. No further proof that there is a point to it all. To every pessimist, there is an optimistic side. To every record, there is a flip side. I've lived my life surrounded by confusing, poetry-genius wannabes. I lived my life around people that tried their hardest to be deep when they were truly shallow. I hated them. Now I am one of them. You find what you want to find in life. You find what you want to find in love and hate and everything in between. |=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=| | _____ Call Goat Blowers Anonymous for the LATEST HOE! _____ | | 6/ ^..^ (215) 750 - 0392 ^..^ \9 | | \_____(oo) This Issues Featured Support Board is: (oo)_____/ | | WW WW Psychotic Reflections WW WW | | (718) 981 - 6387 | | ...the kings of modern goofiness... | |=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=| Copyright (c) 1994 HoE Publications and IM2K4U2C. #63 -> 04/12/95 All rights Reserved.