Potraga za svjetlom, svjetlo u potrazi

Your great-great grandfather cleared the earth
Your great-grandfather laboured on the earth
Your grandfather turned a profit from the earth
Then your father sold the earth to become a government functionary.

Now you, my little man, you don’t know what to do
In your little 3 room apartment - too expensive and cold in the winter
You want something to call your own
And you dream at night of having your own little piece of earth.

Your great great grandmother, she had 14 kids
Your great grandmother had about as many
Then your grandmother had three, that was enough for her
Your mom didn’t want any, you were an accident

Now you, my little lady, change partners all the time
When you screw up you save yourself by aborting
But there are mornings you awake crying
When you dream in the night of a large table surrounded by little ones.

Your great great grandfather lived through incredible suffering
Your great grandfather collected used, dirty pennies
Then your grandfather became a millionaire
Your father inherited and put it into RRSPs

Now you, my little youth, owe your ass to the government
No way to get a loan from a financial institution
To alleviate your desire to hold up a bank
You read books about voluntary simplicity.

Your great great grandparents knew how to celebrate
Your great grandparent dance the night away
Your grandparents lived through the Rock and Roll era
Your parents, it was discos, that’s where they met

Now you, my friend, what are you doing with your evening?
Turn off your TV, can’t stay locked inside
Happily, some things in life never change
Put on your best, we’re going out tonight dancing!

Mes Aďeux

Ako ste gledali "Untergang" (Hitlerov konačni pad) mogli ste primjetiti da je tamo jedna lijepa plavuša potrovala svoje šestero djece. Ta plavuša je Magda Goebbels, žena Paula Josepha Goebbelsa - nacističkog ministra propagande. Zašto je Magda potrovala svoju djecu? - Mislila je, pa kako će ta djeca živjeti bez Hitlera i nacijonalsocijalizma. Ovdje se može uočiti jedna paralela, sličnost, poveznica. Puno žena napravi pobačaj isključivo zato što ne vidi budućnost za fetus. To što ga oni ne vide, ne znači da ga oni (fetusi) nemaju. Ovim postom želim poručiti svim ženama koje rade pobačaj, ukoliko je motiviran ovim razlogom, da još jednom razmisle. U svakoj ženi čuči jedna mala Magda Goebbels. Da li će joj dopustiti da preuzme kontrolu, ovisi o njoj samoj ( Magdi Goebbels). U svakom slučaju, razmisli prije nego ti doktor zabije usisivač u vaginu. Možda nije nužno. Možda u trenutku pobačaja Magda Goebbels razmišlja umjesto tebe??

I`m clicking your fingers for a gothic twilight
that actually existed just in your head
your fingernails painted black
or bloodred
I forget

And your fake-leather volumes
jabbering on hell
manifest decadence was what you hoped to exhail
your eyes tried so hard to glitter

A star-snuffing black
so you opened your books
and you opened your legs
and so opened your heart
and let in the badness
you claimed
as your friend
with un-angels hovering
like flies round the orchard
that had covered your soul
their empire increasing
and your country
deserted by yourself

The bells of St. Mary call us to remember
that life is with end
and the gestures can kill us
moreover destroy
and there is one jugdement only

Your letters came daily
in French or in German
but they meant to me nothing
I caught the slow cords
and dry ice fogging your mind
I see all too clearly now
why you should be discarded
and though I could pray for you
I probably shan`t
having had my cup filled up
with your lies
and your makeup
you were nothing
thinking you`re something

And nonetheless I still write this gothic lovesong
a sign to myself
and the memory of my past
I still write this gothic lovesong
a sign to myself
and the memory of my past
and a way to shut out your face

Ja znam gdje je put,
ali ne znam ići njime.
Ti ne znaš gdje je put,
ali znaš kako bi se moglo njime ići.

Hajdemo zajedno.




Poruka za drugove Našičane: Rončević se vraća kući. Obavio je sjajan posao za mafiju.

Izgleda da sam pretjero.
Možda sam previše toga rekao.
rekao sam nešto što nisu htjeli čuti.
Ni znati.

Općepoznata je činjenica da ljudi naprave nekakvu iluziju života u kakvoj žele živjeti, žive u njoj, te ih tako ne zanima apsolutna istina, jer ona baš i nije ugodna.
Bježati od istine je danas normalno.

Živimo u svijetu iluzije,
svi stoje na svojim pozornicama i glume da je sve savršeno.

Bez prave istine, svijet je ljepši.

I onda se nađe neki luđak, šizofrenik, paranoik i zavjeraš koji pokuša reći tu istinu.

A pošto ljudi ne vole istinu, bolje onda eliminirati tu budalu koja nam remeti našu savršenu iluziju.

Šta se on ima miješati u naše živote, jelda.

Što se više trudiš i više istine kažeš, najčešće izazoveš kontraefekt.
Čovjek ne želi čuti kritiku i prigovor od druge osobe, pa se radije još više zaglupi.
Čeka da kritiku dobije sam od sebe.
A inače i nismo baš kritični sami prema sebi i prema svijetu, koliko god mislili da jesmo.
Pa da.

Zato taj paranoik, luđak, šizofrenik i zavjeraš više neće pričati.
Rečeno mu je da se cenzurira. I da je vrlo glup i da nema život.

Šta on ima sad ukazivat na neka sranja, miješat se u tuđe živote, kad je meni okej ovak i zašto ne bi podržavao sistem.

Ljudi vole biti glupavi.
Osoba za svoje pizdarije zapravo zna,
ali neće sama sebi da prizna.

Ipak on živi u iluziji gdje će se greška zaobići i zaboraviti.
Jer je tamo svijet baš lijep.

Svijet je baš lijep.

Crna kronika?
Mah.
Neće se to baš meni desit. Sto posto!
A ko jebe druge.
Snađite se.

Idemo dalje.

Cenzura.

Ipak vi tako želite.
Većina. :)

CENZURA VIŠE