Sunday 11th September 2011 – Afternoon Diatribe & Base Level Truths

September 20, 2011

Good politics is nothing more than tracing the low-level horrors to the high-level games… Pulling at their roots with enough ferocity to bring the Gods in their Heaven tumblin’ down. Then executing them with a professional headshot; Point Blank; a silenced military-issue handgun and zero emotional input… “Taking out the trash, with minimum fuss and […]

Creation Awaits

July 19, 2011

And this is it; the purging of the bile which has slowly built up in my soul like the unnoticed drip-drip of dirty rainwater falling from the rusted gutter of some dilapidated whore house on the edge of town. Thereafter seeking only that which can lift, enlighten, inspire, enthuse and rouse from this degenerative slumber. […]

Best of 30POV: Messages from the Dark

May 19, 2011

“Best Use of Poetry as a Coping Mechanism” Actually, all of Fent’s posts would qualify for that award. But this one is my favorite. Messages from the Dark* On my honour, I must maintain; Chasing the sunset, under dusk’s reddened clouds, long into the darkness of the night. The seeking of truths, in the shouts […]

Final words on the essence of Saintliness

March 19, 2011

Alas, I do not foam at the mouth, during week nights, being thus free to explain myself and my unnatural gift for buoyancy in these dark seas of cultural maelstrom.

Tuesday Afternoon: N,N-Dimethyltryptamine (The negation of the need for sub-division by gender)

February 19, 2011

So I sit down. And with no worry nor ill-feeling, and the wisdom of an elderly Barn Owl, suck back the first full lungful.

Memories of Warmth (In the Tundra of the Present)

January 19, 2011

I can feel the sweat pooling around my testicles, like a warm salty bath. This can’t be healthy. At the very least, my sperm count must be decreasing by the second. Thank Christ I never plan to have children.

Messages from the Dark

November 19, 2010

On my honour, I must maintain; Chasing the sunset, under dusk’s reddened clouds, long into the darkness of the night. The seeking of truths, in the shouts from the dark, to disguise that all change is the same. Staring at rainbows. Sculpting my dreams. Raging against the inherent hypocrisy. The War. The Famine. The Soulless […]

If, then, goodbye has already been…

September 19, 2010

When he died, when the sun went down, you cried not for his passing. You cried because you loved him and had lost a love surpassing. Mere skin and bones, and likes and hates, and all the lives that life awaits. Through streams and paths, and rights and wrongs; the twists and turns the air […]

THE NON-WORKING HOURS OF AN OPTIMISTIC CYNASIST

August 19, 2010

A brief analysis of the Souls yearning for Freedom Serious paid work is a game played largely by recent graduates and vagrant jackals. Nomadic searchers who find themselves wired into the Beast’s machinery at an increasingly early age, whilst lacking in the potent minerals required to cut loose and plunge, hard and fast, into a […]

We Can't Hear It Anymore…

July 19, 2010

We can’t hear it anymore, We must’ve built resistance. To the stomp of boots on human heads, And the path of least resistance. To the whining of the feral beat, Maligned in its persistence. But driven on by voting hordes; The Devil and Assistants. But we can’t hear it anymore, For ignorance persists. To settle […]

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