Quotes

We Are The Same..

_ Graphic by Ross Eckert

_ Graphic by Ross Eckert

...So come on, child, you’ve slept enough
And I know you’re tired but I’m waking you up
There is much to be done, and we’re right on the cusp
Of this shit getting real, I mean really, really fucked
Every sheep for the shearing waiting around non-plussed
Trading branding irons for brand-name cuts
We were born in labor, baptized in dust
Given life anew as a living trust
With every hair numbered and cross-referenced
For each soul they claim to save, they have added interest
With a price on your head, what you think matters not
Every credit card statement, every lie you’ve bought
Rates our exchanged faith for the next fiat
On the blotter paper, the blood don’t clot
It just bleeds you dry and then leaves you to rot
In a dead end job till at last you drop
Into this old noose, with the rope drawn taut
Left with your hands bound so they’ll never be caught
You may sabotage our education
To a calculated chaos born of confusion
A controlled market through the inflation
Truly euthanasia to waste on the young
But, we’ve caught you now, and we’re cutting your funds
We outnumber you over a million to one
It’s a sharp weapon, but the point’s left blunt
There’s no skill to the game, no challenge to the hunt
With each target deaf, blind, and reticent
Got your ducks in line for the same false front
Cos when free will costs even ten percent
False tongues speak lies over Catholic hunts
From the cathepsin to the cathexis
I’ll bear the stigmatic focus of the anti-catechist
With each catalytic pill slowly slitting my wrists
So when I raise my hand, see my bloody fist
May have killed brain cells, but I’ve kept my wits
And I’d rather go sooner to have known and said this
I’ve peaked at the end, where the answer sits
All the rest is just problems and more questions
Hear the classes getting loud and the teacher getting pissed
In the end this pattern goes 666
Soon my name’s showing up on every government list
Free speech shouldn’t cost, let alone be a risk
So when I die young, it’ll prove me right
Cos it won’t be pills, swear it won’t be the knife
No matter how hard it gets, I’m in this for life
And I’m never giving up till we make things right
God gave me this voice, so I can’t stay quiet
They can’t kill this love, I’ll come back to fight
To return each star and remove each stripe
From each prism cell, we’ll refract the light
To reveal each move, catch the thieves in the night
Make them share what’s left and return our rights
Though it may still shine from a hormone diet
This knowledgeable fruit’s grown overripe
And robbed his breath, birth absorbed he
When the planets line up, every eye shall see
That this invite-only disparity party
Has brought enough despair to the already broken-hearted
In the wake of greed, in the name of flow-charting
Leaving broken-homes where once were gardens
See it’s our pale horse that we’re riding in on
Bringing pestilence as a plague of love
With hell at our heels and heaven catching on
It’s the hanged man, it’s the crux fiction
It’s the pentagram, it’s the pentagon
It’s david’s star, it’s the pyramid song
What was once upright
Now is upside down
And Isaiah, it’s a revelation
2368, 2701
Means a way out
And if I can, you know I’m bringing everyone
— The Velvet Teen, Chimera Obscurant
 

Words Of Wisdom...

_ Photo by Ross Eckert

_ Photo by Ross Eckert

 
Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit, and as vital to our lives as water and good bread. A civilization which destroys what little remains of the wild, the spare, the original, is cutting itself off from its origins and betraying the principle of civilization itself.
— Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire
 

Words Of Wisdom...

_ Photo by Ross Eckert

_ Photo by Ross Eckert

 
I believe that people would be happier sharing things and being more of a collective rather than working from these neo-liberal ideas of just looking after yourself. People need each other.
— Karin Dreijer Andersson
 

Words Of Wisdom...

_ Photo by Ross Eckert

_ Photo by Ross Eckert

 
I clear my mind of joy and sorrow - A river doesn’t know tomorrow - Rolls along with such simplicity - You told me you had stashed away - A note that would explain the way you felt if we would ever find you gone - The river only knows to carry on - The river only knows to carry on
— Mutual Benefit, Strong Swimmer
 

Words Of Wisdom...

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...These declarations are all meant to insinuate a unitary God who accommodates Himself to human diversities. To my mind, the idea is not very stimulating. I will not say the same of this other one: of the conjecture that the Almighty is also in search of Someone, and that Someone in search of some superior Someone (or merely indispensable or equal Someone), and thus on to the end - or better, the endlessness - of Time, or on and on in some cyclical form.
— Jorge Luis Borges, Ficciones
 

Read This...

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This much I’m certain of: it doesn’t happen immediately. You’ll finish [the book] and that will be that, until a moment will come, maybe in a month, maybe a year, maybe even several years. You’ll be sick or feeling troubled or deeply in love or quietly uncertain or even content for the first time in your life. It won’t matter. Out of the blue, beyond any cause you can trace, you’ll suddenly realize things are not how you perceived them to be at all. For some reason, you will no longer be the person you believed you once were. You’ll detect slow and subtle shifts going on all around you, more importantly shifts in you. Worse, you’ll realize it’s always been shifting, like a shimmer of sorts, a vast shimmer, only dark like a room. But you won’t understand why or how. You’ll have forgotten what granted you this awareness in the first place.
— Mark Z. Danielewski, House Of Leaves
 

Words Of Wisdom...

_  Graphic by Ross Eckert

_  Graphic by Ross Eckert

 
Most men, even in this comparatively free country, through mere ignorance and mistake, are so occupied with the factitious cares and superfluously coarse labors of life that its finer fruits cannot be plucked by them. Their fingers, from excessive toil, are too clumsy and tremble too much for that.
— Henry David Thoreau, Walden