Child of Denial

Days in the spa called career: roulette, swaddled and in the cradle of my inheritance. Vitality tainted with continuations of an uneducated hope propped up with education, of sadness shoved up into makeup to make hope, flawed hope present in the halls of financial institutions based on denial of what’s in the past. Denial-based hope, like planting a flower upside down. Assisted-denial, closing each other’s eye lids, communal sin. Agenda’d un-selection of huge swathes of the reality world to not fuck with the stream of livin’ easy, “heaven on this Earth God damn those not in dreamland”.  

 

The problem in denying what’s happened is the necessity to cling to something ruined for the return pull, the gravity, of honest emotions is constant and all that’s in front of me to grab is the extended hand of falsity who suggests my particular feelings are optional — I’ve been graced with a special vintage of breath which needs not feel. And thus, in denial discrimination is born. To prevent reenlistment in who I am, I enlist in what no one is, greater than, cutting myself off from the only company I've got. Discrepancies in how born I am do not exist. But theft based on the claim of discrepancy in how born I am does. Most notably, descendants-by-look-alike of colonial institutions who captured, abused and killed, our skates are sharpened in preparation for a slide into the smoky cigar bar made of collegiate, corporate and political accumulations of power, with the blunt edge of a collective and right-out-the-womb assumption “the job’s theirs if they want it”; and to bring such a one-sided assumption into being, a devil-side-of-the-shoulder assumption must be made against non-look-alikes, ripping skate blades right off. The message contained in non-stated assumption is passed on more completely than any message left hanging on to the stated principles we use as trump cards on real feelings. Racism, or any inequality message, flows through the gap made by implication with room to relax infiltrating the minds formed into bullet-proof glass around the let-down of another round of subjects, a next generation, who resultingly enrobe what fucked them in the first place, a sealed-by-blood(line) pact to defend any un-taxed gifts arriving from downtrodden abuses performed by anyone linked to patrons encouraging anti-other criteria imposed at the entrances to the warm rooms of resource control, law creation and military command; the antithesis of: anyone not un-linked from track-records of commodifying humans, stealing sex or doling out death do not belong, now or in any imaginable generation to come, near the title of leader, for it is impossible the substance of hate has worked its way from the drainage pipes and thus remains influential - the mentalities exhibited by the first-handedly guilty have not been abandoned, and nothing free even begins without complete abandonment of jail, but even if we were in a place of humble eyes, heart corruption doesn’t heal that quick.

 

Outside the warmth I have found cold. Unframed winter surrounding an empty path into the wood of grief. A wood void of dividends in the traditional sense. A continuous being dropped back into the darkness of its territory. Not a lonely place like luxury apartment buildings are lonely, in touch with itself, and therefore me, but blanketless and not willing to do my job. Giving up my place on the guest list does not get me recognition but a horseback ride of exorcism to pay off respect debt to those who have been recipients of my ignorance’s spit which gallops me, who has been countries away from myself, into the welcoming folds of my own humanity, and in turn, allows me to walk out into the company of people living generations taller, wider and definitely deeper than I; teachers, I persecute, like Paul‘s primary relationship to Christians. Without renouncement of job, family, property or pastime complicit in the perpetuation of belief in my being relatively favored on an absolute basis, I can not be prodigalized back into life’s actual air, my ancestral vow to war cannot regurgitate itself and the head of an advancing snake of a lineage I captain so long as I remain a child of denial will remain in tact.

 

Handwriting Video: https://youtu.be/ZN63jvrInjc

Song Recording: https://youtu.be/vd9kCVre9lI

Live Performance: https://youtu.be/76F7lzz3NIA