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not easy to drop that baggage
of expectations, ambitions, judgements,
standards, everything
everything they taught most of us since we stopped being kids.
and even before that.
they praised us for drawing the reality.
they wow-ed at us if we mimicked the outside world.
they never seemed so proud when we just splattered colors and shapes onto a surface
and had fun.
fun was never good enough.
it was never even good. it didn't matter.
we were supposed to be
empty
slaves
mindless
ill
knowledgeable
not enlightened
worshipping scientists
while begging god for forgiveness
fun was wrong
pleasure was damnable
if you're not producing goods
you can perish. no one will pay
they'll just suck of you whatever they can,
disrespect your organs
sell them maybe
dissect
to feed their lies.
it's not THAT bad, but it's close to that.
Too close.
value is a construct.
and so it can be deconstructed, reinterpreted, and fed in its new, politically correct form to the masses.
(ah, this is going way beyond... way beyond)
don't try, just: do. No capital letters; no pressure,
no standards, no respect, no pride.
you do it for joy. your joy.
CZYTASZ
heart beats
Poetry~ poezje itp ~ w gruncie rzeczy, jesteśmy worami mięsa, kości, i flaków. ale w tym worze mieści się mózg, a mózg to wciąż niezbadana złożoność, która z prostego wora potrafi uczynić święty graal. the heart beats/heartbeats/heartbeat: serce bije, ser...
