Give a Roar
by LateNiteFantas©
Not really sure what God is 'cept this world I've seen and been seen by, touched and been burnt by, heard and been inspired by, and those parts of this blue, green, cold and black but starry universe which are difficult to understand, which leave us shaking in terror and trembling in joy, yes, those mysterious, wise and horrible judges of our actions which do not walk on two pink, fleshy legs who do not masturbate, copulate or complacentate.
But aside from the exhillirating but depressing question of what GOD is:
he gave me two hands: he must have meant to me grasp, twist, turn, manipulate and dig this planet into a space-age garden;
he gave me two legs: he must have meant me to run, kick, climb and uplift industry with the colossal power of the proletariat;
he gave me a mouth: he must have wanted me to sing the sophisticated, coquettish trills of mozart and moan the haggard, world grunged sub-melodies of Cobain, he must have meant me to assimilate succulent grapes with the cultured hedonism of Nero, and to smartly discourse on this quintessence of dust, the unknown country and of a stolen night with Titania, fed honey and huckleberries by affectionate fairies;
he gave me a dick: he must have wanted me to fuck wildly and pee crooked;
he gave a brain; he must have meant me to turn it occasionally inward and meditate on the organization of our economy, from agriculture to nano-technology, to the restrainment of my oil, coal and timber fueled presumptions and compulsions, to the moral guidance of my behavior toward my fellow human, be she black, yellow or spotted with red dots, whatever Gods she prays to or cultural idols she gives undue obeissance to, whatever her sexual orientation and even toward the more primitive animals, to whom many of which we owe an elders respect, the jurassic alligator, the ancient ant: the deer with whom we've shared our forests, the dogs who've pulled our loads, awakened us to threats and filled our pots during our hungriest seasons, the pigs who've rolled in our mud, ate our refuse and provided us with kingly feast in thanks.
He certainly did not give me these wonderful gifts of body, sense and brain to drain sugary, carbonated water, shovel odiously fried flesh from animals raised in degraded, unhealthy scenarios, and watch predictable scenarios among glib, superficial people, letting cable's relentless pettiness crawl in through my eyes and ears and wash my brain of its superior matter, to let my gifted brain rot all day while I type data I do not understand, to live in a student's poverty and not to be held in soft arms at night, to turn from it all in horrified fear and pay for the honor of taking the one mind god gave me and giving myself another, and to add insult to injury, to torture myself over the moral guilt of a life which I did not primarily waste but which was stolen from me by sometimes cruel parents, by an ill conceived economy that only wants obsequious flatterers, intellectually devoid number crunchers, and gawdy, crass "leaders" in whose blood cannot be found a drop of human nobility or tough, animal nobility, by a school system which loves chemistry but disdains poetry, honors mindless conformity and scorns innovative endeavor, on the suppression of free thought, the creative flute call and of the finer moral and social acquirements, and yes my life was even stolen from by cruel stars, which left me with the born health of a Methussula, the lifelust of a Bachus, the intellectual curiosity of a Socrates and the reasoned equinamity of a Bhudda, and then turn around and curse me with the social stupidity of an autistic, though not with the lack of caring for one's fellow creatures associated with that disorder, cursed me with the organizational incompetence of an idiot and finally a body riddled with imperfections, with an ackward and twisted gait which agonize my bones if I do not correct it with well worn orthotics, with a lazy eye which curses me to double vision and hid my twinkling, childhood eyes between thick brown, plastic bars, a frame that shakes at every cold wind and shrieks at the snow, soft skin ill fit to hammer or plough and with a pocket of scarred, infected flesh, about my left ear-lobe and seemingly long creeped into my hearing like the venom that poisoned old King Hamlet, and this suffering my doctors will not help me with and even seem to suspect a psychomatic affliction, I say so only out of honesty for I know you will suspect them right on hearing it, and yet the pain and constant dis-ease of such affliction cheats me of most pleasures and puts me whole nights on its rack, from which my mind cannot be turned to more profitable, pleasurable or worthy activities.
Dr. Society, yes you, with all the scientific respectability and smug confidence you have assumed in this cultural and artistic dark age, I am your Frankenstein creature; my oddities are often only my neglecting your own self-righteously vain and idolatrous practices practices; Remember what makes a man unclean; it is not what comes in from the mouth in eating but what comes from an evil heart and through the mouth in speech that makes a man unclean; my pathetic perversions are echoes of the rumblings of my hungry childhood belly; my unseemly rage is over the sandbox toys your authoritarianly endorsed bullies, including those in blue suits and those in wigs with gavels, stole from me. Won't you feed me, care for me, help me to find a vocation, if not out of desire to put my still gifted mind to great economic use, will you not show me kindness out of moral obligation to the child you wronged, for remember that "morality" is not a buzzword; we drink from our own poisoned chalices!!?
But for now, nature has conspired with a few humans, scattered from my dead grandmother, to my small but worthy family to kindly teachers and admiring middle-aged and older women, to the occasionally love inspired nymph of a girl, to the occasionally brotherly friend, to those over the electric sparks of this wonderful new technolical freeway, yes, to you e-friends who've given me love and hope, the encouragement to carry on, yes all these noble people have conspired to give me an apartment, physical sustenance, a little e-space and a keyboard- and I will use it to ROAR!!! I will ROAR!!! by Morrison and claw at the sky and HOOWWLL!! what mere words can of the jolting, melodic, Tom Petty jams with Marilyn Manson and Jay-Z music, the colorful, wild-life and wildly wanderlustful paintings, the sublimely thoughtful, expansive sculpture, the rushing, ROAR!!ing river of love I want to release for you! ROAR!!! ROAR!!! ROAR!!! Damn you, ROAR!! with me. That's it; that's what I want. Now, thank you Ginsberg, let's see the full moon with the sad, soulful eyes of Tom Petty and HOWL!!!, HOWL!!!, HOWL!!!
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