“But the new rebel is a skeptic, and will not entirely trust anything. He has no loyalty; therefore he can never be really a revolutionist. And the fact that he doubts everything really gets in his way when he wants to denounce anything. For all denunciation implies a moral doctrine of some kind; and the modern revolutionist doubts not only the institution he denounces, but the doctrine by which he denounces it. . . . As a politician, he will cry out that war is a waste of life, and then, as a philosopher, that all life is waste of time. A Russian pessimist will denounce a policeman for killing a peasant, and then prove by the highest philosophical principles that the peasant ought to have killed himself. . . . The man of this school goes first to a political meeting, where he complains that savages are treated as if they were beasts; then he takes his hat and umbrella and goes on to a scientific meeting, where he proves that they practically are beasts. In short, the modern revolutionist, being an infinite skeptic, is always engaged in undermining his own mines. In his book on politics he attacks men for trampling on morality; in his book on ethics he attacks morality for trampling on men. Therefore the modern man in revolt has become practically useless for all purposes of revolt. By rebelling against everything he has lost his right to rebel against anything.”
Some of you may know who she is? I surely do! This particular face she has; always makes me give into rebellion! You see, she had just got denied by Edward! “Edward come back! Stop Edward, You can’t-do that!”
Then she looks in lust from the distance! Similar to the anticipation she had; when she heard the rebuke from the religious leader in the neighborhood when she said
“It has been sent down to tempt you, but it’s not too late! You must push him from you; expel him! Trample down the perversion of nature. “
To which she replied; “Did you hear that? He’s a perversion of nature, well isn’t that exciting?”
That is one of my favorite lines in a movie. You can count on the religious traditional law; to judge before knowing a person! True love from within comes from understanding and accepting a person as they are. If only a robot (Edward) could have a heart and not be programmed!
This picture makes me smile and indulges in the nature of what is considered the perverse. I am willing to become a scandal for the nature of unconditional love.
How many of you all know, who it is to be at a place where there is little direction or no such torture of practice? Jazz is based on reaction, and from there on goes along a flow that becomes archived. I’ve recently studied the nature of what is improvisation.
When I was in High School, I loved theater so much because of Random Improvised warm-ups we would do. It’s a great way to get out of your shell if you were ever shy. You had no script, you just had to react on what was presented. I find myself doing the same thing with the alphabet of what belongs to my life.
Words are formed, and it does not matter how much they really improvise, if they were a singular entity, a word being formed would be virtually impossible, with all random words just coming together. It’s alright to not find yourself in the ordinary, to be where you are without the flow of sensation!
Black Or White are the characters that are exempt from sensation; but still have a charm that is uniquely expressed in fashion, no matter what style is out or in! I use two buttons that are black and White and I sew them on the left side of my slacks; to bring the awareness into the community of the uniform of what many wear now!
Janelle Monae is an inspiration to make it in this business!
“When I started my musical career I was a maid, I used to clean houses. My parents—my mother was a proud janitor, my step-father who raised me like his very own worked at the post office and my father was a trash man. They all wore uniforms. And that’s why I stand here today in my black and white and I wear my uniform to honor them,” Monáe said, fighting back tears.
“This is a reminder that I have work to do, I have people to uplift, I have people to inspire,” she said after explaining that she grew up in Wyandotte County, “the poorest county” in Kansas City.”
Using the needle and thread keeps my fingers worked out! While I could use a sewing machine manually sewing these buttons are intense & important for the work I have become of now!
I’m inspired by how she uses this uniform to honor the singular honest quality of life we see through BLACK AND WHITE.
I’m lost without a particular article of ordinariness.
(I rather become lost, without the usual, that IN itself is peculiar…Can YOU relate? )
The bed has become my shoes of travel & appointment.
(As my sleep begins the trickle at the doorstep, I travel, and am appointed to what is next)
Everywhere I go – I look to decode the meaning behind those empowered passwords.
(They are set up, everywhere, and while they measure privacy. Meaning is just as important)
It is in this place of improvisation, the focus is set on spontaneous direction.
(It’s Jazz…I go where I heard the note play before me!)
It really does not matter where I belong or where I am headed; as long as I do not think.
(It’s important to react to the sound that is played before me..not thinking carefully where My move will take me next)
In this process of creating, rhythms have established themselves IN dangling patterns.
(As the rhymes have become repetitive, creation is becoming instinct)
There is no such torture of practice or repetition.
When really studying the hook, it becomes painfully obvious; that the passage IN which chaos arrives, is very chronological.
(A design that is yet understood…)
The history of its existence follows a direction and still contains intent & purpose.
(Purpose & Destiny is even seen IN the chaos of what is..Improvisation still seems to follow orders)
Who should I call? Is someone still awake? ‘Is Anybody Out There’ proclaims the cry that echoes the deepest caves of living. Maybe I could call my best friend or my sister who understood the story from the middle towards the end and backward at the beginning. After all, such a surprise of unannounced alerts beckons at my heart.
Once it is all said, and done; eye envisions a ghost with a weapon. With the last bullets in their machine, they could indeed annihilate my insecurity. But the question has to be asked: Are these the same bullets, of what killed the physical life, to begin with, and created the ghost?
I’ve seen it in the blame and discourse of planted dreams, which sought to arouse a response. Ever so closely, desiring an explanation that fits what was perceived. I’m speaking about ‘Spies Of Pattern’, those things which looked into the corner of expression, which detects the motion of cheating.
They really care, and the care alone; prompts an even more subtle and daring taunt. IF the spies care, shouldn’t you grant the mere eloquence of your ‘Once Known Youthfulness and Honesty?’ Remember now, “the way you once were, before the DARKNESS of DOUBTS and INSECURITIES arrested you”. Says The Spy!
The blessings and confidence that motivates the spy’s heart, to reckon with the magnitude of negativity, really astounds me. As I read the lines of what is presented ‘Frank’ to me, I can’t help but think of my once owned pattern.
My words are addressed to YOU ‘Spy Of Pattern.‘ When was the last time you felt the texture and groove scope your very feet and fingers? I remember when I danced upon its detail. I became so annoyed at its combination of acts and tendencies. I had to respond, and when I did, I made sure I reflected on how sorry and hurt I was that it happen again! DAMNED, repetition, it qualified in me the character of apologetic functions that missed the foundation.
DON’T YOU REMEMBER? JUNE, NOVEMBER, THOSE RETURNING DAYS OF RECOGNITION? WHAT IS SO WRONG WITH SORRY ANYWAYS?
SO here you are, in the same position; I’ve had my turn, now you have given your rendition. God who created the universe has an amazing class, we all belong to; some of us are still sleep in the egg of unconsciousness, but I am a part of a rebirth now.This writing started exactly, a week ago. I had no idea at the time what I was writing, but in light of what just happen; I am indeed aware! AND Am able to finish it.
I’m no longer hanging on the edges of a proposition. Surely; I have heard your dreams, and have tasted the words of your honest emotions. They came in a very late time over here, I responded once, to what appeared to be your Father. Soon after; messages came to me, back to back, begging the notion of ‘If I dare’.
“It should not take a series of weeping therapy sessions, to arrange the need for counsel.” I would say! We have been here; more commonly in the ghost state of our existence. When our life was physical only a couple of months ago, we looked into our own eyes and started the quest for logic and place of love and understanding. The difference? Well, this last time, was indeed the last time.
I’m passed the intimidation of a video, recurring dreams, or even a message that exemplified the honest feeling of your heart. We had our closure, and I’ll save your time and my will to explain your careful accusations against me. I’ve already explained who I am, In fact; the nature of my being seemed unable for you to accept; which explains the reason I left. If you rather hunt and track me because of a dream, maybe you are the one who is still truly sleeping? I could answer the various lines which are corrupted and seemingly used to catch me in the snare of the pattern.
I could make another video and explain this message, and I could simply start where you left off. I’m choosing to send out this writing as it testifies of what my eyes have seen before. Words are the HOPE which motivates our silence, that they there are indeed many characters out there enough to fill the space and void.
I want love
To roll me over slowly
stick a knife inside me,
and twist it all around.I want love to
grab my fingers gently
slam them in a doorway
put my face into the ground.I want love to
murder my own mother
and take her off to somewhere
like hell or up above.
I want love to
change my friends to enemies,
change my friends to enemies
and show me how it’s all my fault.
I won’t let love disrupt, corrupt or interrupt me x 2
Yeah, I won’t let love disrupt, corrupt, or interrupt me anymore.
I want love to
walk right up and bite me
grab a hold of me and fight me
leave me dying on the ground.
And I want love to
split my mouth wide open and
cover up my ears,
and never let me hear a sound.
I want love to,
forget that you offended me
or how you have defended me,
when everybody tore me down.
Yeah I want love to
change my friends to enemies,
change my friends to enemies
and show me how it’s all my fault.
Yeah I won’t let love disrupt, corrupt or interrupt me
I won’t let love disrupt, corrupt or interrupt me
I won’t let love disrupt, corrupt, or interrupt me anymore.
When Jack White wrote these lyrics, he explained it summarized what love made people do. It was the idea of love getting in itself, Love is not as simple as girl meets boy, and how boy loves a girl. OR even the purpose behind two individuals. If we are going to think about love. We need to look at how we sabotage ourselves and hurt ourselves. If we want love so much, why do we do what we do to hurt each other? Since love has been mentioned for since the dawning of time; our beings are attracted to it. AND, to Jack White, (AND myself I might add) This song answers it. He goes on to say, PEOPLE who are hurting you, there is love behind it. Whether it is a love of themselves, or they don’t know how to express it, it could be unrecorded love. BUT it’s love behind it…I need not answer the accusation of insecurity. doubt, disparity, or anything of the sort. Since it does not matter whether I delete the messages, or even reply to every medium that was given to me…I find the bait of its detail to be very charming but so surprising at the same time. It’s amazing how I was picked up on this before it even began, I really thank God for purpose and a song that could not be a better voice to what was spoken.
The last lines of this song are my answer.
As for the unknown, what was uniformly known, NOW is the woe of remembrance! These selective slices of infinity, uniformly seek a position. I’ve given it rest.