I'm 22 years old and the world owes me a grilled cheese sandwich.
I am a Pirate King of my own skin and I will take my ghostly galleon on a sea of Glenmorangie and conquer rival nations, but only long enough for them to open their eyes and fall out of their safe little worlds.
Scholars are fools because they don't know how to live.
Adventurers are fools because they don't know how to think.
The one who can think, who can feel, who can locate the underground rivers and sip their cool waters, they who knows themselves and their role in the world - their mission, should they choose to accept it, they will shock it, prod it into growth, into change. Absolute safety is for cretins - it only allows for one to be absolutely, quietly mad.
These cretins are the slack-jawed lackeys, the out of town yokels, the mindless candy crunching children who'd sooner sup on your skin and drink of your tears rather than try anything on their own.
They are there to watch. They are there to watch as parades go by.
"Strange, well-built young men,
Some of them have exploited your worlds.
They need nothing, and have little desire to put into play
Their splendid abilities and all that they know of your minds.
What sweet juicy strength!
Their eyes have the animal glaze of the summer night;
Red and black, tricolored,
The shine of steel stuck with stars of gold;
Their faces are warped, pitted, blemished, burned ...
The excesses of absolute madnress-
This cruel and tinseled stride!
Some of them are very young... (what would they think of Cherubin?)...
Equipped with frightening voices and several dangerous talents,
They are sent into town to take it from behind,
Tricked out with disgusting luxury.
A paradise of violence, of grimance and madness.
No comparison at all with your Fakirs
And you other entertainers on the stage.
Their suits are improvised in the taste of bad dreams;
They play lovesick songs and tragic plays
Of buccaneers and demigods, wittier and cleverer
Than history or religion ever imagined.
Chinamen, Hottentots, Gypsies, Morons, Hyenas, Molochs,
Ancient insanities, sinister demons,
They distort popular maternal scenes
With bestial positions and caresses.
They play new plays and they sing the songs
Of the spinsters and the knitters in the sun...
Marvelous jugglers, with magnetic acting
They transfigure places and people.
Eyes flame, blood sings, bones begin to swell,
Tears start, and networks of scarlet ripple and throb.
Their jibes and their terror endure for a moment
Or can last for months upon end.
ONLY I HAVE THE KEY TO THIS SAVAGE PARADE!"
The infinite for a grilled cheese sandwich.
Not bad, eh?
I am a Pirate King of my own skin and I will take my ghostly galleon on a sea of Glenmorangie and conquer rival nations, but only long enough for them to open their eyes and fall out of their safe little worlds.
Scholars are fools because they don't know how to live.
Adventurers are fools because they don't know how to think.
The one who can think, who can feel, who can locate the underground rivers and sip their cool waters, they who knows themselves and their role in the world - their mission, should they choose to accept it, they will shock it, prod it into growth, into change. Absolute safety is for cretins - it only allows for one to be absolutely, quietly mad.
These cretins are the slack-jawed lackeys, the out of town yokels, the mindless candy crunching children who'd sooner sup on your skin and drink of your tears rather than try anything on their own.
They are there to watch. They are there to watch as parades go by.
"Strange, well-built young men,
Some of them have exploited your worlds.
They need nothing, and have little desire to put into play
Their splendid abilities and all that they know of your minds.
What sweet juicy strength!
Their eyes have the animal glaze of the summer night;
Red and black, tricolored,
The shine of steel stuck with stars of gold;
Their faces are warped, pitted, blemished, burned ...
The excesses of absolute madnress-
This cruel and tinseled stride!
Some of them are very young... (what would they think of Cherubin?)...
Equipped with frightening voices and several dangerous talents,
They are sent into town to take it from behind,
Tricked out with disgusting luxury.
A paradise of violence, of grimance and madness.
No comparison at all with your Fakirs
And you other entertainers on the stage.
Their suits are improvised in the taste of bad dreams;
They play lovesick songs and tragic plays
Of buccaneers and demigods, wittier and cleverer
Than history or religion ever imagined.
Chinamen, Hottentots, Gypsies, Morons, Hyenas, Molochs,
Ancient insanities, sinister demons,
They distort popular maternal scenes
With bestial positions and caresses.
They play new plays and they sing the songs
Of the spinsters and the knitters in the sun...
Marvelous jugglers, with magnetic acting
They transfigure places and people.
Eyes flame, blood sings, bones begin to swell,
Tears start, and networks of scarlet ripple and throb.
Their jibes and their terror endure for a moment
Or can last for months upon end.
ONLY I HAVE THE KEY TO THIS SAVAGE PARADE!"
The infinite for a grilled cheese sandwich.
Not bad, eh?
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
acidgrampa:
W00t! The music is here! 
redheadedleague:
The world needs more scholar-adventurers. And grilled cheese sandwiches.