thesocratespot: thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6....

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6....: Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0072 : Beasts_Kafkaism & Realism It was twilight but it was already looking like i...

thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6.0072 : Beasts_Kafkaism & Realism

Thesocratespot: The Art of Story telling - Part 6.0072 : Beasts_Kafkaism & Realism


It was twilight but it was already looking like it was pretty late in the night, I was hiding behind this real thick set of bushes a little away from my village house, the earth was wet due to rain and the tropical frogs within the bushes were croaking in full throttle but despite the full house orchestra of the tropical frogs, I could hear my heart pounding dab dab dab, dab dab, dab dab, soaked in sweat, dizzy to the point of fainting out and yet alert and waiting - she would come this way, everyday.

I had all my weapons ready

A letter explaining our love story

A country made pistol

with two bullets

The sky above was a collage of dark navy blue filled by intimidating sparkles from distant galaxies and stars, they were so intimading, I took out one of my fathers dark shades that he used during his cataract to distract me from such intimidation- were they watching me ? they were and I did not like it.

I would have preferred the zero hour
No reality
No Earth
Nothing

I knew I was there somewhere around the pre historic palakkad gap, way below the tropic of Cancer and way above Capricorn, these bushes hiding me were hideuos trees once upon a time, they were dwarfed & subdued by the fury of nature, these croaking frogs were giant salamanders then, some of them were capable of simply sticking their tongoue out and pull a human of my size like I was just a fly or a mosquito, that thought wasn't very comforting, geographically my lat long was sub tropical, emotionally I was this Indian pawn with semi murderous intent, driven by someone I hated there was that part of my mind which said get out, this is not your game

this is not your game
you frog

No

I'm not a Frog

Then you are a Rat

No

Nor am i rat

Of Course

Then you are

Just a pawn... hahaha

a pawn , a pawn ... 

I have Captured more pawns than you could during the deluge
you are now my slave
my male concubine

you will do my bid

That was Twist , pushing me hard

Bloody Jerk was Bi Sexual too

a humungously loud sound of thunder backed by a hedonistically nuclear like lightining strike pulled me back my real state, here I was among the bushes, heart fucking pounding like it was a part of a DJ's party console - woofer and all - my head was screaming with amphibian messages one part said

Get out

Get out

While the other said

You are here to kill

Just do it

That's when I noticed

She was walking down

Umbrella in hand ( not opened )

Divine in her looks

She was bidding goodbye to her friends

Her smile pushed my heart rate further up

She was holding a mobile

Checking some messages

That glow

transformed her face to an ethereal world

Divine

And then She paused

And looked towards the bush

Almost as if she knew

She even smiled

pressed the push button of her umbrella and opened it

And then she walked towards the bush

With that divine smile

I could see

even while the images of a drowning woman and a beheaded female mannequin kept flashing

She still had her sandalwood mark on the forehead, a small red bindi, an equally small vibhuti above all, hanging ear rings, braided hair on both sides that swing as she shook off rain water from her head, a cotton blouse of light blue, a cream shawl worn across and a skirt right down to her ankle and a neat cream coloured high heeled leather flip flop that put her 5'2" frame to look even more classy

She was

Class

But alas

She has to die 
  
the frenzy of the emotion at that exact point of time was more like equatorial desert heat.

As she walked towards me, past the bushes smiling and calling out for me , I clicked the gun again waited for her to reach me close as she hugged me and was about to plant a kiss on my lips, I put the gun on her head and clicked the trigger hard       

          

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6....

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6....: Thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6.007 : The deluge & After  We knew we were stalking some girls around, somehow both ...

thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6.007 : The deluge & After

Thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6.007 : The deluge & After 

We knew we were stalking some girls around, we were both stalkers but each had a style and purpose of our own and somehow both of us knew what the other was doing, just somehow, it was a small rural village we were living in after all, so while he played his spiritual card to the hilt, I knew he was also a sexual predator, I knew he waited for his opportunity and when he found a willing victim, like a sleak reptile he made his moves - observing, observing, observing, waiting, waiting & waiting - but once he made his move there was no chance for rejection or spurn or any such other surprise - it was always 100% strike rate !

100 %  !!

I always envied that bastard Mr. Twist for maintaining that kind of a success ratio -

Target, Strike and Yes ! Succeeded !

That too with some of the best of the best of our girls in the village !!! I think the fucker ( of course !) entered the spiritual field more for the sexual pleasures available than the spiritual preaching he practiced - was his father too so twisted ?

Everytime I came to know about his exploits I would confront him, he would be calm and claim that I'm imagining things and show me images from his vast collection of his own paintings of beautiful ancient sculptures of man & women in coopulation, the one difference was all the images were captured as they were crumbling!

Not one single image was normal, every frame, every image were images of various temple sculptures of sexually immersed couples or sexually immersed orgies with one simple twist - they were all caught in a crumbling stage of their shelf life !

The scupltures were almost mud to an initial observer, only the very well obervant could see the original live image .

But one image stuck me odd - an image that looked like a very pristinely maintained mannequin in front of a very upwardly mobile Noire Fashion Store somewhere, the mannequin had slipped down from what looked like a standing position to an almost sleeping position, it's heels were strewn, its neck was naked and the head had rolled out... the symbolism left me running out scared !

For almost a week after the deluge and the visit to the art gallery, I was completely locked up in my room - I couldn't sleep despite all my efforts - I tried all sorts of drugs, Grass, Dopamine, Morphene, Ganja, Cherus, country liqour, arrack just to kill my conscious state - but no matter what strange images and stories kept disturbing my sleep, I was awake all the all the time and all the time Mr. Twist was somehow managing to show me things I never wanted to see.

Mr. Twist entered my mind at will and said look at this ! As i protested a grotesque image of a woman drowning was thrown at me ! And Mr. Twist was laughing ! Do you know her ?

DO YOU KNOW HER ?

I was in a drugged state, I hardly knew what was going on, I harldy knew this from that, I was so batty !

Told you we all are batty ?

Didn't I ?   

But now that's not our problem, the problem is I'm now under the spell of Mr. Twist and he's now forcing me tell you all stories from his book of stories - of course I said Fuck Off ! But I soon realised He had already obscessed me and so now my mind was no longer mine !

Just as I started protesting again, Mr. Twist opened a new image book and I soon saw an image of my own mother chained, thin and starved in a remote dungeon like room shrieking ( was she calling out my name ? )

HELP ME ! HELP ME !

Or was it me ? screaming ?

Have you ever screamed ?

Do you know all of us are great screamers ?

We keep screaming

We all scream

But none of us dare admit

we do

Because most of us scream

in our dreams

Mr. Twist read my mind

And bid me goodnight

I spat all my sputum at him

He just laughed while skillfully avoinding my spit, reminding he would soon be back to make me tell the world his story ...

I was left confused, frustrated but somehow completely trapped !

I felt so batty ! 



            

thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6.007 : The deluge...

thesocratespot: The art of Story telling - Part 6.007 : The deluge...: # Ambiguity of One upmanship   The nature outside was at its wildest, it was a tropical typhoon. The monsoon rains were pourin...

The art of Story telling - Part 6.007 : The deluge & beyond

# Ambiguity of One upmanship  

The nature outside was at its wildest, it was a tropical typhoon.

The monsoon rains were pouring, the skies were flooding, it was torrential downpour the clouds collided and thundered, unleashing murderous villainous flash lightening backed with big divine nuclear bomb like sounds that almost signaled apocalypse, the dystopic ambience was completed with strong circular winds bending down even huge banyan trees to their trunks (with many trees giving up and getting uprooted or loosing major branches to the natural fury) - despite the severity some village folks were still caught outside scurrying, scampering to reach their destination even as their umbrellas were getting virtually whipped out of their hands by the sheer vengeance of the collective force of nature.

While the village folk feared the worst, Mr. Twist & the other Mr. were totally composed, calm (as seasoned chess players), engrossed & coldly playing Russian chess - as they mulled how they could destroy the other. 

The first mover advantage was with Mr. Twist, without wasting a minute and with a condescending smirk Mr. Twist moved his White Pawn from C2 to C4, looking at his smirk I put on a bigger one and then moved my pawn to E6, Twist twisted his face almost stifling a big laugh and moved his pawn from D2 to D4, I was expecting that move I quickly moved my black pawn from E7 to E5, Mr. Twist continued to smirk and that was beginning to irritate me, I realized he was playing mind games with me and I was also intent to give it back so by the third move I changed my smirk to laughing and chatting loudly announcing that I was reading his mind and I knew exactly what he was trying, the game had moved into the middle game, it was getting intense, we had both sacrificed our Queens, the rooks too had disappeared now the game had become purely a game between the Bishop & the Knight for both players with the support of the pawns, some pawns from both sides were near achieving promotions so the fight had reached a do or die situation – that’s when they noticed their feet getting wet and the water below their feet raising and that’s when they heard the thunder and the torrent outside – Mr. Twist changed his expression and with one swift move tried to swat the Chess board with an intention to push the board and the pieces out of the table and make the board and the pieces float on water saying let’s play chess on water !  

That’s when I started to grudgingly admire Mr. Twist because I had never imagined playing chess on water and once started collecting the pawns became more important than protecting the King! Since the squares had become fluid the more pawns you had the more powerful you became, so for both Mr. Twist and me it soon became immaterial whether we were collecting White pawns or Black ! We just went about splashing on water trying to get back as many pawns as we could !

But the nature outside continued to challenge earthlings, it was later that many people realized that it was a precursor to an impending apocalypse.

Once Twist knew he might soon get inundated he picked his pawn pieces and in a flash disappeared into the Amazon forest, while I collected my pawns and with equal speed entered Phantom’s skull cave, before the waterfall turned impossible to enter.

But before we entered each other’s domain we made sure we swore that we would each destroy the other !!  

Destruction ! Somewhere we both could here some crazy pop musician repeating the word with frenzied fans repeating his words !

Destruction !

hahahaha !

To me it sounded like Frankie the Frankenstein had reached Hollywood …  hahaha… !

And I was the Joker in the pack !

But I couldn’t resist calling Twist from my Skull Cave !

Somehow, despite the deluge around, the mobile networks were working ! And as soon as I called Twist too picked up my call, saying he knew I would call !

Which irritated me ( am I so predictable ?) but then I was more excited and I had questions … We chose to talk using WhatsApp video

It was like a bullet point media interview – I was shooting questions and Twist had to answer pronto, no thinking time ! And of course I was the media man, asking questions ( I was glad on that front )     

Me : Remember James Hadley Chase ?

Twist : No

Me : You don’t ?

Me : Sorry then you have no clue, who I’m … hahaha…

Twist : I don’t need to know James Hadley Chase to know who you are , I know you are a fool , an imbecile… ( was rendered with a smirk, which I ignored )

Me : Ok at least do you remember Betsy ? by the great Harold Robins ?

Twist : No ( that’s when I noticed that he picked up his dark shades, he wanted avoid eye contact)   

Me : oh you don’t ?  then this story is not yours…hahaha…

Twist : Fuck off , I know stories about people better than you

I ignore the taunt

Me : At least have you ever watched Soldier Blue? have you ever known Charles Bronson ?

No ?

Of course then you may not either understand me and our readers will definitely not understand you Mr. Twist

Twist : Hahaha… you think I care ?

I did not fall for that bait either , bcoz I had more questions !

Me : Have you heard about Steve McQueen ?

No ????? you actually mean NO ???

Sorry then you are not my audience

Twist : Fuck off, whoever said I was your audience ?   

Me ( agitated & angry ) : Listen Mr. Twist !  You and me are a part of a great story and it is important for you understand this story, very important ! You need to know some old things because this story is about old things, really old things.    

Old things like

Leftism

Romantic leftism

With a huge dose of liberalism

I’m not

a

Leninist

Nor a Maoist

Neither a Stalinist   

Nor even a Naxalist

Or Che Guevarian

They were those

Then

Their time is past

Beyond past

And some of them

Frankly were

And 

are an embarrassment 
That includes my own 
Father 
Gandhi 

Sorry father 
you were so batty 

To the readers

Hahahaha… sorry ! I suddenly made things serious ! not my intention, really sorry !  

Listen, there’s no need to really worry ! The one clear vision we all share is that we will die, we have to die and we will ! All of us, the world, the cosmos, the animals, the birds, the children too … there’s no left or right on that front !

Whether you are a leftist or a rightist

You are bound to die !

DIE ! 

And if you left to die, with no attention, chances are rats, worms, crows and dogs will eat your dead flesh !  

And so, what the fuck ? There lies the answer … hahahaha … there lies the answer … you think I sound like the Sankara Charya ?

Please permit me to disagree ! And excuse me if my friend is batty !

I think we all are 

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: The Art of Story Telling - Part 5 ...

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: The Art of Story Telling - Part 5 ...: thesocratespot: The Art of Story Telling - Part 5 : Two Mad Cynics... : The Story Teller (s) - Part 5 Listen frankly, I really regret I ...

thesocratespot: The Art of Story Telling - Part 5 : Two Mad Cynics...

thesocratespot: The Art of Story Telling - Part 5 : Two Mad Cynics...: The Story Teller (s) - Part 5 Listen frankly, I really regret I started this Bcoz, ever since I chanced upon on Oliver I thought h...

The Art of Story Telling - Part 5 : Two Mad Cynics

The Story Teller (s) - Part 5

Listen frankly, I really regret I started this

Bcoz, ever since I chanced upon on Oliver

I thought he kept creating chances for us to meet !

And he blamed me for creating those chances !

In short he thought,

I was creating our so called ‘chance’ meetings

And I thought it was he who was somehow creating situations

to force me into ‘chance’ meetings with him

This entire game of “chance”

Was getting onto my nerves !

But then

The audience ?

They were enjoying it

They were even applauding

Our ‘chance’ meetings and our chance debates

We were getting popular

It was like a Lucifer and God debate

The only problem was we both kept

Exchanging roles

If sometimes he was Lucifer and I was playing God

The situation soon changed

Where he was God and I was the condemned Lucifer

Believe me

it was crazy 

Because both of knew

It was but a zero sum game

We  both were mortal

We both had the death sentence written down 

Even before our death          

Why death ?

Even our chance encounters, we suspected were all planned

Was anyone else out there ? pushing us towards each other ? 

Oliver looked at me & I did likewise 

We both got back to our comic strips 

He was busy drawing comic strips for Lee Falk 

I was busy drawing comic strips for Edgar Rice Burroughs 

We could hear thunder 

a storm was brewing 

The Story Teller (s) - Part 6

The nature outside was at its wildest, it was a tropical typhoon. The monsoon rains were pouring, the skies were flooding, it was torrential downpour, the clouds collided and thundered, unleashing murderous, villainous flash lightening backed with big divine nuclear bomb like sounds that almost signalled apocalyse the dystopic ambience was completed with strong circular winds bending down even huge banyan trees to their trunks ( with many trees giving up and getting uprooted or loosing major branches to the natural fury) - despite the severity some village folks were still caught outside scurrying, scampering to reach their destination even as their umbrellas were getting virtually whipped out of their hands by the sheer vengeance of the collective force of nature.

 While the village folk feared the worst, Mr. Twist & the other Mr. were totally composed, calm ( as seasoned chess players ), engrossed & coldly playing russian chess - as they mulled how they could destroy the other . 

thesocratespot: The art of story telling :) - introducing a new se...

thesocratespot: The art of story telling :) - introducing a new se...: The art of Story telling – A non essay Part 1 For a person who writes stories, stories can come and go in a flash. Often the story wr...

The art of story telling :) - introducing a new series :)

The art of Story telling – A non essay

Part 1

For a person who writes stories, stories can come and go in a flash. Often the story writer runs after those one’s that come and go in a flash ignoring the one’s that he’s already writing or some new one’s that strike his ever so imaginative mind.

This story too is about one story writer, not anyone famous or talented but someone who thinks or imagines he’s one.

Well, he’s just another one of those story tellers whom you find across every nook and corner of our planet – they simply exist, and yes they also suffer from their own sense of being quirky, crazy and also being absolutely weird, so much so that many from the normal world – from that Myers Briggs TI world – one would easily declare them as you know ? weird & batty !

hahaha ... 

Talking about being batty, I must confess this story teller I’m referring to does have that side in him that would surely certify him on the extreme side of the Myers Briggs TI world’s description of being really, really neurotic – let me explain, for one this story teller calls himself ‘Oliver’ and when probed further he says his full name is Oliver Wild Twist and that he was born as a part of the team who were led by Tarzan of the Apes in the deep Jungles of Africa and later fought along with Phantom the ghost who walks and even had supporting roles helping out Mandrake & Tintin !!

Now Come on ! If That’s not batty , what’s ??

But, to be honest the guy had his alibis, as proof that he was indeed a part of the Tarzan team or that he had partnered with Phantom or Tintin ( all of which I found pretty genuine I must say).

Sorry, let me explain, for instance every time anyone used to ask Oliver Wild Twist to show them proof of his story, proof of his alliance ( but for a better word ) with Tarzan & Phantom and Tintin, he would quietly walk to a huge wooden wardrobe that occupied his entire drawing room ( he was very secretive about his living room, not many got access to that ), work his way around many journals that looked more like some very carefully preserved almanacs full with leather covers and gold embossed titles and then carefully picked one big leather bound book as if it were a piece of precious diamond, he would gingerly bring it down without missing the page he had selected and with a sense of élan show his proof, point his shaky fingers towards a series of pages from old comic books ( that was what the leather bound almanacs contained ) , his fingers would point to strips within the comic story where he was featured as a part of some very intensive scenes where he was either holding a Spear or a knife or a gun etc., along with the protagonist of the Comic be it Tarzan or Phantom or Mandrake or even Tintin , most of the children who were gathered would nod in agreement acknowledging the fact that the image they saw resembled the Oliver they knew but the problem was most of the time Oliver's image almost always showed him as a part of a crowd, way behind the scenes, way, way behind ! 

Nevertheless, almost anyone who saw the comic strip would immediately agree that the guy whose figure was seen way behind the comic strip ( almost lost in a crowd ) was indeed the guy they were talking to !!

And once Oliver convinced them, that he was indeed a man who was once featured as a part of the team that created characters like Tarzan, Phantom & Tintin, once he knew he had arrested the attention of his audience he would go onto tell a story, a story as batty as his biography. 

Oliver always started his stories by first invoking his relationship with God the creator, and that too was as batty as his other traits ( please excuse the frequent use of the word will try and control it henceforth, sorry ).  As mentioned above Oliver always started his story telling process by first establishing his idea of God and himslef , he used to always say that he never believed in God and then went on to say that "if" God existed,  then they existed only in the scheme of an idea called ‘Chance’ and to him Chance meant something new, something creative, something that surprises people and so to that existent Oliver used to explain that since he believed that ‘Chance’ existed then there was a chance that god ‘maybe’ existed ! ( weird right ?).

Story Teller – Part 2

But hang on, Oliver also had another theory – and that was about “Creative beings” , and every time he used the two words in tandem, Chance & God or vice versa , he suddenly turned even more mysterious and seemed to sort of getting lost into a state of trance ! With moon in his eyes and a tone resembling some kind of a prophet he would say “the creator is never emotional about creations, never, the creator keeps creating and creating and creating ( the tone keeps lowering as he repeats the words ) and once something is “created” then that “Creation takes a form or stays formless ” but for the Creator it doesn't really matter ! Whether a creation takes on a form or a shape or stays formless No Matter !

He would shout, as all the kids watched him amused, he would raise his voice to a near crescendo -  The “ Creation has to take care of “Itself” the Creator doesn't Care, the Creator just doesn't care !!

I’m THE CREATOR BUT I NEVER LOOK BACK !

IF I HAVE CREATED , I HAVE LEFT IT BEHIND ! LET IT BE ! Let it be! Let it be !

I DON’T KNOW WHAT I CREATED ! I DON’T CARE WHAT I CREATED !

IF IT LIVES , IT DOES !

IF IT DIES

IT WILL COME BACK TO ME !           

ONLY ME !!

The Story teller (s) – part 3

Once Oliver finished his chant, he would look around for effect, usually his audience would be neighborhood children and other good for nothings, jobless or people who were equally out of their “minds” – so invariably, he would be satisfied he had a very receptive, obedient and more or less awe struck audience, until one day when I accidentally walked into his sermon.

Listen, I was a rogue, a narcissist and an atheist romancing with Communism. Though born as elite, I became attracted to the scum and scruff and believed that I was born to emancipate the world, especially the one’s who were attracted to the likes of OLIVER WILD TWIST’s, I had this notion that I was born to emancipate the naive , the poor, the innocent and those good for nothings from being entranced by the likes of Oliver Wild Twists, I thought I was born to help these hapless from becoming equally batty !

That was my singular mission ! So don't be surprised as to how I ended up entering Oliver's story land - I got drawn like a bat to bat land. 

But then, the biggest problem was , the other society around me including my family, my friends, my mates or even my teachers and gurus thought I was a bit weird too ! That was a crazy situation ! I knew I was not like Oliver Wild Twist but I also knew I had some strange traits, like for instance I always enjoyed the company of people who were weird and batty, I was always late to sleep and very late to rise, was never interested in school or education, very poor at math, poor , poor, poor in almost everything I did, so it was natural that I was hounded, scolded, cursed and condemned for not being bright as was expected – but, hello ? I was not like the Wild Oliver Twist either !

So it just happened one day I walked into Oliver's story land and he immediately seemed to sense that I was a misfit in his world, despite all my efforts to sincerely win his confidence, somehow Oliver was convinced I had subversive intentions ! That’s when our enmity started !   

Oliver Wild Twist knew my social problem ! Because he was from my village, from my ilk !

I had to prove to the world, I was not Oliver Wild Twist !

And Wild Oliver knew that if he could ridicule me, his kind of craziness would find legitimacy !

So that started off a kind of rivalry between the two of us and eventually pulled in even the people who flocked around him, since he became fond of making fun to entertain his audience with several jokes on me, while I would walk in and blow hot and cold on him for his debauchery right in the middle of his sermons - Oliver would simply continue, undeterred.  

Over a period of time we soon found that we could feed on each others quirkiness and that we were after all ‘Brothers in arms ‘ !! And so one day we met again by chance at a bar ! 

The earth changed direction after that.

The Story Teller (s) – part 4      

We were in a bar

Getting drunk

So who do you think you are ?

The bar was noisy

And somebody by chance laughed out loud

Oliver said

Who’s laughing ?

I said

I’m

Hahaha    

                          

   

thesocratespot: Ideals vs Politics –a non essay At ground zero – ...

thesocratespot:
Ideals vs Politics –a non essay At ground zero – ...: Ideals vs Politics – a non essay At ground zero – We humans can accept that there are no ideals, no ethics, no dharma, karma or fear of...

Ideals vs Politics – a non essay

At ground zero – We humans can accept that there are no ideals, no ethics, no dharma, karma or fear of divine retribution and all of those corollaries, what exists today is “only politics, and supremacy of politics and political will power.

I’m not referring Nietzsche

While ideals deal with sublimating humans. Politics deals with subversion, servility and an absolute disregard for humanity.   

I’m not referring to Machiavelli

What that means is that except ‘politics’ rest all are inferior – be it God, religion, ethics, civility, virtue, goodness, kindness and all such traits that builds a good civilized society, what that also means is that we as humans, collectively have willingly given up on our ideals.

I’m not referring to Lucifer

But what’s an ideal ? And what’s politics ?

Who rules or controls what ? Who controls ideals ?

Who controls politics ? Who rules ideals ?

Who rules politics ?

I’m not referring to Caesar

There’s no denying the fact that politics has pushed us back, really, really back

Politics has made sure that we are always in debt , always

What they give is what we get

What they take is what we have to give

We have to

What if I say , I don’t want to give ?

Bcoz , I do not understand your politics ? Your laws ? Your ideals ?

What if there are conflict of ideals ? does it matter ?

WHAT iF THE Nationalism you are propagating isn’t what I think is ideal ?

Listen, I’m no Plato or Socrates or Valmiki    

Nor am I

I

But I’m also political

   

         

thesocratespot: AAUW : The Grey Side of Retrospection : Chapter: C...

thesocratespot: AAUW : The Grey Side of Retrospection : Chapter: C...: AAUW : The Grey Side of Retrospection : Chapter: CXXII : Speeding Faster Than Time There was Nothing To sense, to feel could just bare...

AAUW : The Grey Side of Retrospection : Chapter: CXXII : Speeding Faster Than Time

AAUW : The Grey Side of Retrospection : Chapter: CXXII : Speeding Faster Than Time


There was Nothing
To sense, to feel
could just barely see

Was speeding
faster
faster than light
faster than time

Had to

Had to beat them

But I had the steering
in Control
I was told
just singularly focus
on the dashboard

So that was my focus

That seconds needle
moving faster than light
thought I just saw

Sunlight

Very briefly

Was speeding faster
than light
faster than time

Had to

Had to beat them

But I had the steering
in Control
I was told
just singularly focus
on the dashboard

So that was my focus

Past, Present, Future
meant nothing

Was speeding faster
than light
faster than time

Had to

Had to beat them

Had to beat them
and see
far beyond
far beyond

There was nothing to see

Was speeding faster
than light
faster than time

Had to

Had to beat them

That's when the forces gathered
time and light
they started moving faster
and faster 

they wanted to beat me
my speed
my focus 

I shifted gears
and they shifted two

Seemed like an endless
competition

Was speeding faster
faster than light
faster than time

Had to
Had to beat them

That's when the forces gathered
time and light
they started moving faster
and faster  

 

I was told 

to keep going

and going

faster & faster 

If you to want win 

if you are seeking the beyond

Ahead of time 

beyond the speed of light  

 

beware of exhaustion 

beware, they had warned 

Never feel beaten 

Never get exhausted 

Was speeding faster
faster than light
faster than time
Had to
Had to beat them

I kept speeding 

But There was Nothing

To sense, to feel

Could just barely see

Was speeding faster
faster than light
faster than time
Had to
Had to beat them

   

https://www.facebook.com/questthelimits/videos/1144723342377021/?t=67

Listen, I know you are freaking busy and yes you have no interest to read anymore - do you really read anymore ? -  you have your Wha'saPP ( my spelling) and your other social media stuff etc., do you really read ? do your Children read ?

Thankfully, the answer is

Your Children are reading and reading and reading

Just like the way we used to to

You are so blind in your own stress

You think, they are missing Asterix or Tintin or Batman etc.,

Duh !

They already have their own new Super Human's of their own !

You guy's are so archaic ! So ancient !

I swear !

Dead Wood ! Like Liz the Queen !

     

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: thesocratespot: thesocratespot: AA...

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: thesocratespot: thesocratespot: AA...: thesocratespot: thesocratespot: thesocratespot: AAUW :  The Age of the Pervert & Perverse Civilisation  Listen, I agree this story se...

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: thesocratespot: AAUW : No Idea Where this is Going ...

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: thesocratespot: AAUW : The Age of the Pervert & Perverse Civilisation 

Listen, I agree this story seems to be meandering and going nowhere and I also agree maybe it doesnt really make any sense, but at one level it can be argued that Hey ! this is a story that's meant to meander , that's meant to float across certain expected contours and mathamatical progressions.

If only life were as linear. And yes, I'm also trying to make some sense of all the shit being thrown around because at the end of the day, do you really ever know what all shit are being thrown at you ? and in how many different forms or shapes or whatever ? 

Unless of course one's born as Queen Elizabeth.

But of course !

But then even Queen Liz and fly., know that they are themselves like living wax museum statues, a product of an unsaistanble systemic aberration, whose relavance has already become irrelevant !

Takes me back to the comment Col. Mc Arthur gave to then emperor of Japan after America nuke bombed Japan - instead of apologising to Japan, Col. Arthur directed the emperor of Japan to inform his people that he's also an ordinary citizen and not God incarnation.

While the helpless and demoralised Japanese emperor caved in immediately, many others in similar positions belonging to the european monarchies saw the writing on the wall and made sure the new age political marauders who were shaping the world in the name of change towards DEMOCRACY had room to connive and give european royalty sufficient protection from any form of potential extinction, the reason why Queen Liz remains more imp. to the world even today.

The european allies managed this absolutely incorrigible coup of sustaining their royalty, but yet pushing forward their intensive surge towards democracy while also at the same time carrying forward a highly planned, systematic butchering and dismantling kingdoms across the planet whose startegic base and purpose was propagated by the very same royalty based in europe who were commanding the destruction and dismantling of other competitive royalties across the planet.

It's an indipsutable fact that the european royalties continued to think they would retain most of the Colonies they had built across the planet once the war ended and I think they were justified in such a belief and I also think they continue have a vicarious role in controlling some of the most important and vital Socio-Civilisational aspects of this planet.

Like Meghan Markel ( not sure if that's spelt right , sorry ) driving in a new multi coloured respect for the English royalty ( that had single handedly snuffed out all available wealth & sunshine across the African continent and enriched themselves so immensely that till date an entire continent which was once one of the world's most admirable economies were rendered penniless and continues to live in relative penury till date )

Ok, I will not talk about Catherine the Dutchess of Cambridge.   

So, while the American's can take a lot of credit for having resurrected and reined in a mad bull Japan, the manner in which it was subdued remains one of the earth's shocking stories, a story of total lack of human to human empathy, near total  and severely impaired lack of comprehension of causal factors of sceintific perversion.

Col. Mc. Arthur and team ruthlessly nuke bombed Japan wherein in one single day within one single moment more life's, more damage, more destruction, more devastation was delivered on innocent life's - massacred en masse, innocents including pregnant mother's, young nubile, happily playing children, human's most innocent were bombed in a manner that the savagery& butchery of the otherwise globally condemned inhuman Nazi fascists almost paled into insignificance - in just one day.       

Coming back to royalty, of course they know that they are just the mere blood relations of their forefather's wax statues and portraits hanging from oil & canvass walls layered by centuries of butchery, slavery, colonisation for profit built out of bull dozing and destroying cultural opposites across planet earth - I somehow, still do not believe how the world continues to tolerate and respect them, forgetting the horrors and civilisational destruction carried out by these so called royalties ( can they be tried for human abuses carried out by their forefatther's & mother's ? by the ICJ ? with retrospective punishement ? ) .

Maybe that's an argument that's best lest to be handled Annie, not our forte I guess ! 

Of course, there are always stories behind stories !

And I'm trying to comprehend why the hell did Annie kill Daniel ?



      

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: thesocratespot: AAUW : Reasoning V...

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: thesocratespot: AAUW : Reasoning V...: thesocratespot: thesocratespot: AAUW : Reasoning Vs Enlightenment Vs Rational Vs The Irrational  Annie was on a wild trip with her doctor...

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: AAUW : Reasoning Vs Enlightenment Vs Rational Vs The Irrational

thesocratespot: thesocratespot: AAUW : Reasoning Vs Enlightenment Vs Rational Vs The Irrational 

Annie was on a wild trip with her doctor, her Schezophrenic element had overpowered almost everyone at the clinical dorm room where she was being kept under control.

In her rage she almost would have killed , brutally murdered at at least a few dozen human's within a fraction of minutes, if not seconds, even fifteen to twenty people at the SCARF - Schezophrenic Research Foundation of India, HQ'd @ Madras ( Chennai ).

SCARF  incidentally is founded by Dr. Sarada Menon, a stalwart and pioneer of India's progress at treating mental illness with dignity, finesse and global class attention, SCARF is one of India's foremost Institute's established to treat extreme abnormanilities related to human rationality, it is recognised & reckoned as being amongst the best of the best in its field by the WHO and such other global instituitions.       

Annie was admitted after her parents who had come to visit her at her Chennai residence, were suddenly attacked physically by her, they had come visiting to spend time with her but as soon as they had rung the bell at her plush Poes Garden residence and an usher opened the door they could hear Annie hurling abuses at a very high pitch and soon She they had baseball bats, chairs and all sorts of stuff being thrown at them.

Poes Garden, Chennai, incidentally is currently known to be the residence of one of the most despotic, mentally and politically retarded suburb of Chennai, unfortunately presided by some of the most powerful people who rule the state of Tamilnadu - equivalent of Washington DC controlled and driven by the corrupt and the most corrupt.

You just need to step in and you know it is made corrupt wealth.

But, now we are not here to make any motherhood statements, we need to get our focus back, How did Annie end at SCARF ? 

Toleration was given up when Annie started beating up her just arrived parents and everyone around with rage and abuse with six inch size bamboo canes