"BEAUTIFUL IDEAS" Prose by Gabriel Thomas
The News plays a carnival of violence and I watch this shit in my underwear.
The world is burning.
Nukes are fueling.
One group’s pissed.
Another plays coy.
Hate funks the air
and so on and so on.
Molotov cocktail meteor showers.
Riot gear, batons, plastic bullets, tear gas…
The tank canons rise like something from your mother’s wet dreams,
and university campuses are in Hippy Orgasm
…and those politicians, Mannnn.
So scrubbed and clean and healthy and smiling.
Fuck yeah, they want it this way.
A communion of hate and fear is easy to manipulate.
Getting those VOTES!
I scratch my balls through soft cotton fabric
a dumb hairless ape.
Jesus! We really are a massive herd of cattle.
I snag the remote then and flip to a new station.
On the magic screen,
there are panels now debating free speech.
Next it’ll be a free thought…
A new tobacco tax.
Another gas tax.
I begin to feel ill.
Elon Musk? Take me with you!
I look at the TV remote’s power button,
a glowing red eye looking back at me.
I slam it then
and sit in dark.
I sit in the silence.
There is goodness in the silence.
My great couch of solitude.
I breathe and rub my face and try to remain still and try not to think…
We are fighting with ideologies,
structures of ideas.
They stack, oh, so precisely,
in just the right way
hoping only for calm wind.
The Parent FUCKING City!
Philosophies all containing beautiful thoughts,
and we fight with them.
And for them.
if implemented in just the right way,
in the correct combinations,
just enough of this,
and a little of that –
our elixir of beautiful thoughts –
the world would become a utopia.
You are crazy if you believe this.
We are strange anomalous creatures, you and I.
Freaks of Nature.
And we are very good at many things,
and one thing we are good at is lying.
We are even better at it when lying to ourselves.
It might be what we are best at.
We really fight because we refuse to look in a mirror.
We refuse to understand what we really are.
Egos and Truth seldom harmonize.
We don’t want to see what we really are or what’s inside of us.
We love our beautiful ideas oh, so much.
We lie and believe they make us beautiful too.
This is a problem.
This is a BIG, fucking problem!
There is something down deep,
your self-righteous thoughts,
under the current of your so called life.
It is down there in the dark,
deep in the dark,
further than most are willing to look.
It sits there in an animal silence.
a warrior king in the night,
a black archetype,
lounged on a thrown
forged from a millions skulls
He sits there listening and waiting.
Waiting for your beautiful ideas.