That Diesel Delusion..

all those glorious knights

tapping out djembe rumours

seated that table round

 

their courage vast

with impeccable conscience

and Braveheart deeds

 

ghosts of Christmases past

rattling their chains

iron linked in justification

 

armour now rusting

ferric, ferrous brown

the patina loses shine

 

no minutes for this one

or records allowed

nothing more to redact

 

that mystic problem

the hermite conundrum

our to do, dilemma

 

if only the six feet

had him box bound

for all eternity

 

those jungle drums

call and answer zoom

of an impending doom

 

————–

give him haloperidol

to polish his halo

that deluded Angel

 

slip him ziprasidone

or a Thorazine

to slow him down

 

after all

it is him not us

WE are right and just

 

———————————————————————-

 

Persecutory. People with this type of delusional disorder believe that they (or someone close to them) are being mistreated, or that someone is spying on them or planning to harm them. It is not uncommon for people with this type of delusional disorder to make repeated complaints to legal authorities.

Grandiose. A person with this type of delusional disorder has an over-inflated sense of worth, power, knowledge, or identity. The person might believe he or she has a great talent or has made an important discovery.

 

 

My Ferric Justifications

People can talk themselves into and out of pretty much anything.

The trouble is regret is as slippery as an eel and can sneak through the bars, the bastions, of reason.

—————————————————————–

With the rusting bars

of those ferric justifications

my dreams they rot away

so reasonably confined to cower

 

Each nail bashed home

with the Mjölnir mind

resounding thunderous home

to pin my hopes to the page

 

Each slant, every twist

slams prison door shut

to echo along death-row

and no reprieve from the guv’nor

 

All that alleged sensibility

cuts razor blade the skin

whilst my heart bleeds

unnoticed tears, into a bucket

 

And when the bell tolls

I shall empty the slops

of all my reasonable reasons

which did treason to my love

 

The painted corner of my cell

surrounds me so perfect tight

as all my gaveled demi-truths;

my Soul does forever swallow and choke

 

Would that I could vomit

most visceral up

all this heinous bile

I feed myself and to others

 

Within the rusting bars

of all my ferric justifications

my dreams they rot away

reasonably confined to cower and decay

Margin

a turbulent river

meanders ever towards

the delta of death

trying to forget

all the rocks of reasons

with which it scoured the world

 

in its blind surety

always too busy to think

think, things through

its clever and cunning

brings only cataracts

and sudden sink holes

 

always glossing over

dependent upon

immediacy and desire.

it sees not the margin

at the edge of the page

where the truth is written

 

hens in a coop

they coo, chatter and cluck

as the spirit

silently passes them by;

no knock on the door

which they might hear

 

pecking in the mud

always for more corn

and the winter’s eggs

lie unsullied in the hay

and soon, there is nothing

for them to brood upon

 

in the tranquil margin

the water reeds bow

as the spirit plays his flute

softly amongst them

and the warm wind fades

into the cold of night

 

there in the margin

the ghost, the sprite

an ephemera, even a man

waits for an aeon

for a sensitivity which

never, ever comes

 

a turbulent river

meanders ever towards

the delta of death

trying to forget

all the rocks of reasons

with which it scoured the world

 

Thoroughly Justified

I really do not like the word justified or justifications for that matter. It is a means by which humans argue for actions that range from mildly unpleasant right up to the heinous. It is a little trick of human mind to say things like “she was asking for it” or “they deserve to die”. Justification lies aback the justice system and has roots in the Abrahamic an eye for an eye. Justice must be served; someone must get punished for justice to be served. It is a bit primitive don’t you think? Is justice a master? Is it a phenomenon of the universe? Or is it simply something made up in man’s minds? A method of explaining why you can burn someone at the stake if they don’t believe in the same notion of God that you have and profess.

In our exams we are asked to justify our answers. Things can be justified by precedent. Justification is a trick of the mind that humans use to first of all allow behaviours and then attempt to mentally mitigate that which they have done. Forget not that people have “justified” genocide. And the icing on the cake of that is “I was only following orders”.

To my eye karma does not buy justifications, it does not swallow them hook line and sinker, nor does it collude in justifications with others. Herd justification can be very nasty especially when a ravenous pack of near rabid dogs turn on a single individual.  The “different to us” justification is unpleasant; “let’s beat him up because he is gay” or “let’s chemically castrate him because he likes a bit of cock”. “I know it is alright now because his picture is on our currency”. It has gotten pretty bad. The WOKE police are out in force carrying batons now.

People can seemingly justify all sorts of stuff to themselves…after all it was / is thoroughly justified.

People can go round and round and round, in what I call the justifications loop. They can get stuck there and of course feel thoroughly justified in staying stuck. It can be painful to observe this from outside the loop.

Hmnn…

 

We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.

Albert Einstein

Ice Dagger of Reason

It is possible to be so stuck up in our heads or with our heads so far up our own arses that we forget. We can be so fixated on being “right” that we become artic frozen beings, fragile and hostile.

——————————————————————-

This cold artic world

Now murdered

Run through

With ice daggers

 

The stakes of justification

Banish the hope

Of resurrection

Hearts, pierced silent

 

Bang on urgent target

Devoid of love

Brutal and

Pregnant with blame

 

Each frozen scalpel finger

Excises precise

Any quivering warmth

To extinguish

 

Artificial intelligence

Full of artifice

Is already here

With a deafening profit

 

Power, money

Death, destruction

The human iceberg

Now inured

 

On the blade

Is writ

Me and mine

So fuck you

 

Each stabbing reason

The serial killer

Again and again

And again

 

No need for love

Nor caring

Bullseye blind

Stiletto sure

 

Tell me precisely

What exactly

do you mean

by feeling?

Justify Your love

As you emptied the magazine

of .357 reasons why,

did you pause to reload?

 

Each hollow point

spreading traces

of shiny, justified lead

 

Did you keep a tally

as they mounted up,

your casings on the floor?

 

When I couldn’t prove

beyond a reasonable doubt,

did that gavel strike?

 

And when they chalked me up

to experience

did you applaud?

 

In the blue flashing lights

my mortal imprint fading

in the winter rain

 

And when Sherlock comes

looking for proof,

will he find it?

 

That line by line refutation

did it convince your heart?

Does it now?

 

I am sorry that

I could not justify my love

…enough

 

and you couldn’t yours….

Une vérité qui dérange

L’écureuil cherche avidement

Les noix cachées

Ses mots qu’il a déjà dits

Il y en a tant

 

Dans le brouillard de temps

Il a beaucoup oublié

Il blâme tous les autres

Les doigts comme les épées

 

Il chauffe l’huile brûlant et

Aiguise ses histoires élastiques

Avec un verre d’advocaat

Il est devenu plastique

 

On ne pourrait jamais accepter

Un colis juste comme ça

Madame la factrice

Je ne suis pas chez moi

 

Même s’il reste

Sur le lit de mort

Il peut tricher Dieu

Qu’il n’a pas du tort

 

Les mains aux oreilles

Pour les protéger

Au cas où ils vont roussir

Les mots de la vérité

 

Le singe de sagesse

Va nier tout car

Le boomerang prodigue

Jamais retournera

 

Les poings fermés

En grinçant les dents

Il n’avalerait jamais

Parce que, parce que

 

Le sage lui a donné une pelle

Pour trouver ses noix perdues

Et il creuse á l’Australie

Parce que, parce que

 

Le maçon en pierres

A finalement écrit

Sur sa pierre tombale

« Il avait toujours raison, parce que, parce que »