I Feel Sorry For Your Scapegoat

We are the Lambs of God, sent to slaughter. Society and WE as humans, are never ready to face consequences for our own actions. I sincerely suspect that the concept of God was brought about so that a "divine force" could be blamed every time a human died of his companion's fault. We don't want to take the blame, so we find others to dump our follies on. The creation of scapegoats is just as fast as the blinking images on T.V. and the media turns us into a bloodthirsty mob in the blink of an uninformed eye.

We are sheep in the skin of humans, we demand to be led. Led over the precipice, over the horizon.

Mob mentality.

It is scary. The force of a thousand people, scream for blood in unison. I was very much inspired by Shakespeare to come up with the concept for this poem, which is somewhat of a continuation of my song Mob Mentality. (more of that on Facebook)

Read on!

Gothic angels seek to kill

Burning crosses seeking thrill

Murder and aborticide

Spread your wings and spread them wide

Vengeance seeking sheep so loud

Throw the scapegoat in the crowd

Puppets moved out by the master

Revenge is sweet when death comes faster

Blinded by their arrogance

Masses in a cryptic trance

Mobscene when we voice our thoughts

Brains in space like astronauts

The head count's more intellect is less

Such a manic, moody mess

Piper please play for the rats

Your sound will guide these sightless bats

Then the strings are pulled by Father

Bring the axes Mr. Logger

Peasants bound by King's decree

And anarchy shall set them free

So yeah, these were my thoughts, be sure to check back next week for a totally unrelated post thingee =D

Ciao,

Taksh

Love - A poem and a short ramble

Cracked faces

Burnt places

Crooked smiles

On crocodiles

A spectrum, one sided

A fate, undecided

And we look for love thats lost

Stone cold water

A drowning daughter

A broken heart

That's played its part

A maiden forlorn

A young lad who's gone

And their story forever covered in frost

When cupid had lost its faith

Then shall appear a potent wraith

Freeing love

Nurturing the dove

With a crooked smile

Like a crocodile

And alive will be their faust

Love. What a fickle emotion. It comes and goes, and on the rare occasion that our heart DOES settle for someone, disaster seems inevitable. Keeping a relationship alive and breathing takes WORK and cupid is never there with his handy arrow when needed.

Love is an emotion which stands tall on the delicate porcelain base of trust. All in all, it is a poorly balanced equation, leaving me wondering as to how it has stood the test of time and is still standing.

How do people not see through the rosy facade?

Fairytales don't always come true. Most of the times, Beauty is met by an actual beast and she becomes a grisly reminder of how easy trust cracks.

But still, Love is an amazing idea that I never tire obsessing over =D

By the way, "faust" is Latin for Luck

Till next time

Ciao

Taksh

Beauty, Gouge out the glass eyes

Beauty.

It's a very subjective topic.

Beauty, as they say, is in the eye of the beholder. Looking beautiful has a different meaning for everyone. However, we the people, are stuck in this never ending quest to find beauty.

To capture the elusive aura that is perfection. It is one thing to be concerned about your looks, however it is a totally separate matter to obsess over the opinions of other people.

We destroy ourselves in an innate effort to look good, to be perfect.

Layers on top of layers - Mascara, blush, eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick, lip balm... it goes on and on.

Vanity is not found only on the runway.

No.

Vanity is the guy standing in front of a mirror, taking hours to fix his tie, telling himself it is perfect.

Vanity is the teen, spending an eternity on his hair, telling himself it is perfect.

Vanity manifests in our reflection, after all, self depreciation is an art form rarely practiced.

Tears, giggles, blood sweat and ink. The pictures say it all. Our world is truly a dark one. Nothing ever actually fades away, nor does it leave a mark permanent enough. We burn all the good things to warm ourselves on the embers.

Asphyxiation.

Silent suffocation under layers and layers of false promise while anguished souls try to clamber out. THAT is society in a nutshell. Mechanical humans who love you when the limelight is shining. The moment it turns to someone else, "poof" go your dreams.

You are an untouchable.

Being different is like signing your own death warrant. We are young and we love it. We contort our limbs, twist and turn to be able to fit into the box society wants us in. It is the era of irony. We humans proudly wear the labels our peers assign to us, all the while chanting "I'm unique, I'm unique"

It's a funny world. Funnier so, when placed on a paper platter to be dissected by millions of people per day, who laugh it off and shrug, "That can't be me, I'm unique, I'm unique"

Niko Von Monroe - A Biography Of Sorts

Being a Gemini, alters to my personality come pretty easily to me. It is pretty simple to separate my thoughts and feelings from one mode and switch into third person view, to see my situation objectively... To be able to write as an outsider. This entry, previously on Facebook, came from a darker time, almost as if Jekyll wrote about Hyde.

Enjoy!

Sshh!

Shut up.

Can you hear it? This is the sound of the walls coming down. Taptap tapping away on a keyboard.

Isolation is a guilty pleasure. He types from a different perspective so that he can distance himself from the pain.

A thousand voices.

A thousand faces.

He feels it you know. He isn't made of Teflon. An empty carcass, bloated and lacerated. Drained of vitality.

Devoid of emotions.

Shell shock

Lived by the book. Pinpricks across the skin. Razor sharp kisses across his heart.

We understand. You are not to blame, even as you pushed him towards the precipice while he lay there broken.

It was clearly his fault.

Provocation

Red nightmares of a blinding white insanity. He writes while the world around him crumbles and falls and he is buried in the chasm created by the relentless taptaptap of the keyboard. It takes one to know one.

A bullet in the brain. Aching to escape. Mumblings through a wired jaw.

Speak up or the crowd won't hear you.

They need answers and you are the one scapegoat.

He hides his flaws.

Overkills.

Overcompensates.

He hates himself for being unique.

Masochist

Acid green fetish doll. Painted up nice and pretty on the guillotine. The blade drops and there is silence.

The roaring mass got what it wanted.

Blood.

Demons feast till the end of time and martyrs are created by unfortunate accidents. The brave ones fall and their remains are the gruesome trophies of a time gone by. A battle well fought.

Blood and guts for the winners and the losers lick their wounds with salt. Shallow opinions thrown at survivors while the corpses of the fallen draw admirers like flies.

Irony

Plastic blue suffocation till the everlasting Christ bleeds dry on the cross. The sin grows back and he screams for temporary solace. Smooth porcelain talent like flawless marble.

But an esteem easier to crack than candied glass.

Silver streaks in the thunderous clouds, because he rains on his parade.

Confidence like butterflies, it comes and goes.

He is an incubus, for gods that haven't quite left us yet. Raised in a putrid womb of metal so sterile, air so toxic that he gave up and decimated his desire to survive.

"Singled out in a hateful crowd, over and over again"

He screams while the desecration of matters holy and pure commences. The harness can only support him for so long. After that, it becomes his undoing. The leather bites into the skin while the metal sears his soul.

A broken toy, with artificial intelligence and a taste for self-destruction. Incarcerated. Evacuated. Left to die. He picks himself up and brushes it off;

Only to resume the taptaptap on the keyboard, till the eternal flame consumes him on the cross.

Quick update

Okay, so for who ever is reading this, my ONE reader out there, I am pleased to say that I am ready to start updating my blog weekly :D

Yeah, and I'm gonna be promoting it like crap on all the social networking sites too! :D

Plus, I am shifting all the notes I wrote on Fb, to here :D

Cyber-Generation

So my blog entries come to me at the oddest of all times. Most of the times, the reason my poor little blog gets this neglected is because I tend to use the pen more often than the keyboard.

I guess, even for all my self proclaimed love of technology, the harsh coldness the cyber world creeps me out a bit too.

Where thoughts and emotions are just data, typed out and ready to send; where feelings become lost in the constant updates of other's lives; where invasion of privacy is just a calculated click away. This is the reality we live in. The cyber generation. Wires and signals replacing our bloodstream and our hearts are like a higher power, a few keystrokes from us.

Netspeak. Texting. Chatting. Instant messaging.

Gone are those days where you came to the playground to show off your new toys or eagerly looked forward to meeting old friends catch up.

Gone are the days where your personality mattered.

Now we just create a new one, sitting behind the screen. A personality reflected by flashy graphics, cheap glittery images and the same generic sayings repeated over and over.

We are unique, just like EVERYBODY else.

We are the Cyber Generation. If you aren't like us, you must obviously be a nobody.

OF COURSE you are different, OF COURSE you are something new.

So is everybody else, join the queue buster.

This attitude scares me. How ready we are to forgo our emotions in exchange of this digital fortress we build around ourselves. E-Thugs. Everyone is tough online. Everybody has an opinion and it is the ONLY right one. Mob mentality, connected by millions of servers across the world. We are sheep with no leader, walking on the same path over and over till our heads spin.

Headed in no direction, millions of people connected to a God Module called the internet.

Connected in this web of information spun over decades yet disjointed as ever.

ThisIsUsNow.

Pen on paper, I compose my feelings, I gather my thoughts and begin CREATING something that is wholeheartedly ME, in it's essence, not something mass produced and repetitive designed to keep the trolls at bay while I construct barriers.

This is the world we live in and it is ironical how we snap at others to "Get a life" whereas our own lives are mere moments in time controlled by the flashing, blinking screens of the computers WE built.

Slaves to our own creations.

ThisIsUsNow.

Till next time.

Ciao!

T