http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:maslowmassacre&section=today deviantART RSS for by:maslowmassacre en-us Copyright 2009, deviantART.com Tue, 08 Dec 2009 22:25:22 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/28779409/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/28779409/ Sun, 06 Dec 2009 04:01:25 PST I've broken out into spontaneous singing with my family almost 7 times today.
Jason Mraz, Oasis, Radiohead. I taught my sister Kate to play wonderwall today.
She's an amazing flute player (flautist), and seems to 'get' anything musical the moment she touches it.
I can play guitar, but Katie is in a whole other league...

Ahh right, I haven't written. Instead I've read one of my works over and over again.
I sometimes love what I've written. I think thats probably a little strange, but it's the way it is.
My work: rain.
God, so little needs to be said to express something graceful and tactile.
The english language has provided us with such amazing tools. Bastard son that it is.

Anyway, will write, just don't know when.

I tried drawing today.
I feel like my hands cannot make the connection with my brain necessary to produce quality drawings.
Rather my brain translate what I am seeing to move my hands... My hand-eye coordination is poor.
I might actually be over-thinking it.
Either way I think it would take weeks to make an adequate connection. I would love a skill like drawing.
To all you natural born drawers out there

'Go to hell.'

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/28643283/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/28643283/ Sun, 29 Nov 2009 03:45:27 PST A harmony which presides over the hum.
I can hear this when I focus, and it becomes beautiful.

However, sometimes it becomes nothing, and night simply wanders on towards dawn...
Tonight I have written this, and tonight it trickles from the air to me.
I have found this beauty, and have given your ears to the challenge.



Writing has always seemed insincere, and any conviction presented in textual form seems to flow though a person and not into us.

I suppose people are like mountains... Water like words can bore holes right through them, and eventually there is no resistance left.
Words are very much over-used, and I cannot stress how much I would appreciate a world without words. But until that day, create resistance and force yourself into appreciating inanity in all forms.

I drove over 1600 km to get home in the past 2 days. And now I'm home.
Some god blessed me with a home and a family to retreat to.
It's an amazing feeling. But disconcerting, because I feel foreign in a place I should be calling home... Maybe I'll just have to give it time. It has been a year.

On a lighter note, Australia has the richest landscape. Bleak, and in the same moment, beautiful.
Someday I would love to lose myself in it. Stretches of nothingness for hundreds of miles.

thanks.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/27515281/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/27515281/ Thu, 01 Oct 2009 03:49:13 PDT
i don't feel like this version of me can live to 21.
i am going to change utterly and completely.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/27200352/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/27200352/ Sun, 13 Sep 2009 21:38:58 PDT it does keep me entertained, but at the same time i wonder at what cost does this entertainment come? i've decided that if i was to become a psychologist (god willing that never happens) i would be so blunt towards peoples issues it would be almost distasteful. black box recorder has an amazing song called child psychology. it would probably outline best the outcome of all these years of questioning and doubt. "kill yourself or get over it." needless to say i hope that the psychology department of the university never determines this... i am probably going to be a registered psychologist at some stage. despite my protests. and it would aid me greatly to not have to defend myself in an ethical debate, especially when i am so lax in my ethical standards...

being laden with ethics seems like a waste of a good life to me. conventional is another way of saying uninteresting in my books and the last thing on earth i need is to be uninteresting. i am so necessarily attention-seeking that i'd probably die if it was to happen. very very quickly.

sociology and politics... we've just past through a unit on risk society and the internal risks of global warming and nuclear war.

as far as i'm concerned, if global warming incited by humans truly does reduce the population of the world to just over 1 billion, then the world is a better place for it... even if me or my offspring is one of the victims. and if you think that i'm cold, it is only because to me the nature of the world is something worth maintaining. not that i would not love my children.

i think that one day the world will very suddenly and cataclysmically come to an end without anyone realising it. i keep imagining it in the most serene places. it is just a palatable dimension of my existence. that nothing could ever stop it. i will probably die before it happens. but some part of me actually wants to witness it. or at least be alive for it.

when i'm 81, sitting in bed watching the sun rise, i want to know the utter destruction of the earth and all it's inhabitants. thats how i'd want it to happen anyway.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/27082542/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/27082542/ Mon, 07 Sep 2009 19:16:40 PDT there's a benevolence in the warmth.
i have some and i slept well.
and slept in until 9. so i could slowly get out of the house and come to uni.

last night i realised how utterly incapable of sleeping i am without having done some exercise. i layed there for an hour thinking about it.
i slept well...

i hope it doesn't rain. at least not until tonight.
i hope there is no tonight, because i really don't want to go home.
i just want some new sheets...

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/26697441/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/26697441/ Wed, 19 Aug 2009 17:15:42 PDT
... " if you worked on your body, you could be like him. don't worry, it's ok to look sometimes. " ...

i have a lot of work to do. i think that in about 3-4 months i won't have to exercise so hard. just maintainance.

maybe i will be in a nice house then. maybe i will be in a position to enjoy university content again. maybe i will be going home for a few happy months.

i believe that innocence is the greatest gift given to man.
because with it all other people will alter their course.

it is a matter of maintainance and control and that is all.
if you are ignorant and innocent, then you are pitiful but happy.
i know innocence and act innocent.

and i cringe at taking innocence away. because i am like all people.
this is the place where i can think out loud. and maybe thats the way it should be.

... "heaven smiles above me. what a gift, here below. no one knows." ...

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/26369720/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/26369720/ Mon, 03 Aug 2009 22:32:59 PDT he grew up into a place he can't remember.
when he sat down he leant far forward.
there wasn't a person who understood him.
those who said they did, couldn't. teachers knew of him.
there was no one who knew what was inside the boy.
no one but him.
and it was lonely.

friends were friends in ideal. in what way did they know him?
in what ways did they know the boy?

he moved a lot. 15 houses in fewer years.
no one to trust. his family was an ideal. they tried where they could.
no one was with the boy. and no one could possibly see how he was suffering.
it slowly became resignation. no one was coming. and no one did.
the boy knew life was material and that material could be changed and become pleasing.
the boy knew that change was action. and that then; he could not act.

where was the boy to go?
to silence. to deafening mute silence.
to the knowledge of time passing and possibilities with them.
the boy knew life was pointless.

but then he loved someone. and he developed an understanding of love.
love was sacrfice and was absolute.
if he couldn't care about life, he could care about loving.
and about being held.
permenance was valued, and was interpreted as recognition.
attention. he got attention. whatever he could get he took.

his parents had divorced when he was young.
being held was love.

there is so many things he had learnt in silence.
how to disappear. and how to be heard.
through pity and through inference of emotion.
there is so much to gain from these things. and that is how he was heard.
that is how he contained love.
these habits die hard.

life developed and the boy grew older.
many loves and much time past. they both became vain.
and it became harder to accept them leaving him.
and his life became harder to scale.
thought became loathsome. the boy knew what thought did to people...
it was a necessity.

where thought failed, existence took its place.
life simply went on without analysis.
and the boy found that material is better that non-existence.
and that ether can't metaphorically choke those who aren't paying attention.
there is power in ignorance.
and selectively, discretely, life could be modeled and ignored.
direction for an easier life in future.

i miss love. i want to be held so much...
i am not fat anymore. i don't see myself that way.
i am stronger, but people don't love me any more than before.
this is the story of ryan chandler. i grew up.
today is in a state of decline.
i hold back tears.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/26137701/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/26137701/ Thu, 23 Jul 2009 19:48:10 PDT my torso is burning and everynight i feel more and more like direction has taken over.
a courage to destroy my strength where it lay.
i have burnt up.
stronger and fitter and cleaner.
i won't be posting until i feel like its worthy.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/25979076/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/25979076/ Thu, 16 Jul 2009 06:24:29 PDT stronger cleaner soul.
the birth of a being or the self comes through hardship.
and my hardship is born of the self-inflicted moral imprints of my past.
i must therefore significantly alter its current course. to bring about the seeds of change.
where life is given freely, like here. like the scattered leaves on dying streets.
we must burn deeper into the coarseness of reality. and uncover the truth and beauty,
of a stronger cleaner body.
and a stronger cleaner soul.

i will consummate no love in passion.
for passion wants a permanence that i can not endure.
and i will take no nature for its nature. should the nature turn to love.
as the weakened soul in love is a direct result of a desire for permanence.
so for all days, time is a burden.
and all nights, tomorrow is sound and sure.
therein will i find a peace.

the cleaner strong self.
no phantom desire.
a cleaner stronger self.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/25911662/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/25911662/ Mon, 13 Jul 2009 01:52:48 PDT and is now going.

the sky which once turned black has done so again.
i really have become pretty attached to the sky.
often i ask myself to stop using the word so excessively.
that concept more generally. a list of words i can't stand to use anymore.

timbres are combinations of texts and ideas. this is a pretty obnoxious process for me.
when i see your writing i can remain relatively ignorant to the entire process. which is fine with me.
but i can't stand mine much. it gets weighed down in my feelings towards the writing and that cliches the anger and frustration.
and i know i should be able to get past that. i think maybe its that i was never truly an artist. just someone with ideas in their head.
and a poor grasp on the merits of grammar. as i've proved.
i'm sure you guys can see something in what i write... thats good for me. i'll save you the effort of expressing it to me.
it all seems like praise that i haven't warranted. and critique is sadly something that i don't take well anyway.
it's ok.

thank god for the ignorant bliss of lonely happiness in music.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/25886211/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/25886211/ Sat, 11 Jul 2009 19:15:53 PDT
a summertime will come.

i think that we can all take something from experience.
experience will always take something from us.
insatiate.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/24279904/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/24279904/ Thu, 16 Apr 2009 18:55:31 PDT and so will the next few months be overwhelmed with good days.

i have written about two paragraphs in the past two weeks.
probably not really.
maybe a paragraph.
i keep on remembering exactly why i am writing.
how it is i can write.
i remember yesterday. and its effects.
and now i know its wrong of me to expect that from you again.

i think i'm justified...
i think i'm over-reacting to an under-reaction.
maybe theres something to hide.

i'm looking at a man whos going through a punk/18th century revival period in his life.
and just had to wear a pocket watch and an ill-considered sports blazer with one long black earing and a studded red belt today.
i feel like this man.
and i feel completely ashamed of myself.
but i know that we're all like him.
we all become soemthing for others.
and its sacrificing our soul that makes us interesting.
its the tedium of being ourselves that we are scared of.

ahh, i cut up my hand last night.
it fucking stings.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/23993171/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/23993171/ Tue, 31 Mar 2009 19:43:29 PDT but i love emotion too much to be sincere...
i hope i die.

furthurmore i hope you die.
but we're all fucking stuck here.
wishing and hoping that god exists and that he'll never put us here again.

i don't like the way i feel right now.
and i don't think many of you care to feel this way either.
but at least i can write it.

expressing absolute hopelessness in hope it makes me happy in future.
i keep wondering how many people i can stand to be around before i fall into their heads.
a single drop and its all over.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/23736147/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/23736147/ Mon, 16 Mar 2009 19:13:00 PDT
]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/23666181/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/23666181/ Thu, 12 Mar 2009 19:17:10 PDT snakes beneath our houses turn wildly on themselves.
growing tusks underneath our houses. gnawing at cords.
what cords? cords of generations. cords of government. of love.
of humanity. what else ties you to your home? cords...
tusks to grow larger. larger to ingrow.
a prophesy that is self-fullfilling.
its already happening...
the weight of the house is death.
the ground is twisted as the snakes had twisted apon them.
and the tusks are ingrown.
stuck between the hard earth and the floorboards- underneath you.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/23612958/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/23612958/ Mon, 09 Mar 2009 16:20:13 PDT beautiful walls.
skies and people.
worlds around worlds being watched by worlds.
the hand movements associated with worlds.

my friends.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/23421953/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/23421953/ Thu, 26 Feb 2009 18:46:46 PST and i've spent time doing so.
and my time has been spent doing so.
why.
i've come to the conclusion that my one goal is to change people.
just to witness that click and see self-awareness spring up.

if you haven't commented then nothing can change.

nothing will change because you haven't given me anything to change.
i don't know where you are, and i don't know where i'm going.
i want you to tell me what to do.
i'll write about facism. i'll write about sensuality.
i'll write erotic fiction. and i could write with religious fervour.
so that means everyone can just tell me what they need.
tell me or i can't stomach this.
tell me or i'll forget you.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/22948381/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/22948381/ Sun, 01 Feb 2009 16:52:25 PST the scaled perspective with which i once saw the world dissipated
and every mal-formed entity that was ever static becomes still.
what endless wonder this afforded me.
what absoluteness this granted me.
to see all and to be all within the moment of my beginning.
and then, to witness its end and continue with this plaintive existance in the absence of such virtue.
what glorious wonders i now observe in all things.
what curious entities sway back and forth in the warm febuary winds.
what grave monoliths stand above others.
what beautiful accidents stray within our ranks.
the slightly offset eyes of the daemon child.
the sunken but triumphing face of the martyr approaching his end-stage.
and within us- to- there is monstrosities to be beheld.
the scorn that burns within our palms as we lie awake in the night.
the contempt we feel as the words once spoken (the nights of the phoenix-son)
immolate our sweetest dreams and carve our gravest nightmares.

what folly, to believe in absolution.
but what greater love to behold.
i am the son of minerva. the witness of the divinity behind all that ever was.
i am a paragonal fraction of eternity, and thus am eternal.
i exist within moments layered beyond the sum of ones personal capacity to observe.
but see- regardless.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/22204211/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/22204211/ Fri, 26 Dec 2008 05:41:33 PST thanks to my beautiful friend josiah.
there are some people that you know really care about you.
josiah really does...

so it sounds amazing.
like i knew it always did.
and it will travel with me now.
if i have to leave my abel behind it will travel with me.

today and all days are bright and full of hope now.
as this time is spent in it's climax.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/22097100/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/22097100/ Sun, 21 Dec 2008 06:07:47 PST the sound around me is both choppy and soothing.
as music should expand within you as a concious contradiction.
now i only hear the rhythm.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/22006828/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/22006828/ Mon, 15 Dec 2008 22:09:02 PST liquids dripping down their inner thigh.
what a beautful scene.
first came the scream. then the blood.'
sweet surrender.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21972525/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21972525/ Sat, 13 Dec 2008 23:29:31 PST the endless diversity of white noise was the simplest form of devotion.
and yes i found it. and yes i want it.
but to want is not to have.
can i have you? simple devotion?
can i have you? Blond-Horizon?
will we ever have?

a snake coiled into itself. it found a place spiralled like the seasons.
it lay on earth and watched the shadows as they peirce its hollow core.
a never-land i see as perfection.

and now i feel winter.
where some fraction of the whole perishes.
rotting fertile roots that someone steeped in acid soil.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21892707/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21892707/ Tue, 09 Dec 2008 03:59:54 PST i think i am naive for defining myself in some way through it.
this is not an extension of me. it is an extension of an interpretation.
its part of the people around me. its a means of exclaiming my worth.
or some intangible value i can place on myself.

there might be deeper biological roots for my need for this confirmation of the self.
but i think, now, it is more a unwillingness to let it go.
i can find within myself everything and more than this place has to offer.
at least, everything within the bounds of one facet.

i've finished looking. for now.
i can't see places elsewhere anymore.
all those images have escaped.
i wonder if its drained from me.
i don't want them to be gone.

if you have them, i want them back.
so i might stop.
this might be the last thing i write.
but i don't think so...
i hope it is.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21841191/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21841191/ Sat, 06 Dec 2008 01:38:06 PST it gloats and strides through me.

like a tanned soldier coming back from war.
that inextinguishable self-pride.
achievement is a veal.

i realized properly today that because we don't have real wars anymore that the only person that we could possibly fight with was ourselves.
our moral code is so inclined that if we were to fight amongst ourselves it is not actually a fight, but rather an obligation. one that we quickly ignite and quickly forget.
we are left with unresolved conflict. what is there to do but be sated. perhaps mindless. it leaves a lot to the imagination. but thats not my point at all. what is important is who we turn this unresolved conflict towards.
the way i see it, there are two options.
there is the most blatant of the options, to turn it against whatever is left. the invisible governments or the invisible enemy. to fight whatever is imposing and unreachable. perhaps much of this is only realized subconsciously... but for some it could be different.
the point is, it is unattainable.
some find release- in the random acts of deviance that appear to them.
and some may not.
this is the way things are... i can't say why they are. maybe it is purposefully this way. or maybe it is not.
i can't see a way around it...

my second option is we fight ourselves.
we vivisect ourselves day in and day out until we finally become mindless and there is naught but living left. some not even.

my point is: we may in fact be the root of all that is unresolved.
my resolution calls us to work around thinking too hard.
dropping issues occasionally.
until we finally don't have to deal with anything.

i've not had a thing to write about.
a few times i wrote to see if i still could.
but otherwise i just haven't had the need.
see, i always thought the moment i was away from it.
i would die inside. but now that i know, its so much better.
i'm alive inside. writing was my inside struggling with death.
or willing it. i described my problem a thousand-fold.
and there it still was.

i stopped thinking about it for a little.
and here i am. happy.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21624130/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21624130/ Sun, 23 Nov 2008 02:18:21 PST if one day i could let you into my head,

love, is no longer what i search for.
it is attachment, it is being bore.
love is inevitable.
but inevitably painful. means no more.
means no less.

bless the blue houses you see. this is important.
all houses are blue houses if you do this.
and you will live in all blue houses.

we are children of the world- and i love you ruby.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21460570/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21460570/ Wed, 12 Nov 2008 19:41:58 PST i'm less of a writer now.

i'm reading perfume.
its good...
i would kill for a feeling. one emotion.
one overflowing and awe-inspiring emotion.

he killed for a smell.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21311144/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21311144/ Tue, 04 Nov 2008 03:28:49 PST toss the water into your eyes.
the water reeks of dirt.
which is on the ground and in your delirious eyes.
and blinds me.

and as i wander. i find someone has taken my arm.
and has run away.
and i have appeared there next to her.
as if i was a cloud and she were water.
blue forests turn grey quickly.
as your neck seems gartered with bruises and some dried blood.
and strands of dirty blonde hair.
with a stare that makes me wish we had fifteen more minutes.
but we don't. because i'm soon going to evaporate.
and you will continue to follow me. often starting again.
and i will probably be inside you.

i am submerged in a cold bath.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21257386/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21257386/ Fri, 31 Oct 2008 23:40:44 PDT Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.




god is a long list of commands that i fulfill poorly.
i was completely wrong.
its hard to pretend.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21212272/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21212272/ Wed, 29 Oct 2008 05:07:56 PDT at every turn a new bountiful anguish.
who's malicious intent is in itself- death.

i would prefer however, to think that the waves of maline chances which chastise me are in fact purposing that i fight.
that they are taunting me and that i may push back.

each woe an new way forward.

my resignation is truly overwhelming.
as i may now sit in silence- but for the fan overhead.
and feel contented in my sorrow.
as i tomorrow guarentees new sorrows.
and a newer way forward.

my only question is where.

but never mind.
in time all things become apparent.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21149530/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21149530/ Sat, 25 Oct 2008 03:22:00 PDT blocks the little sounds around my head.
it chimes chords like wooden horses charging toward my end.
the only end there ever was.

the vibrations of their hooves sound like rain.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21112713/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21112713/ Wed, 22 Oct 2008 15:31:27 PDT a beautiful acoustic guitar with a crackly sound.
like a brother or a sister coming to stay with me.

i love today.
its blue everywhere.
all the flecks of white are looking more like stars.
less like annoyances.
i am just what i want to be just when i need to be.
leaving my inhibitions out to fallow.

god blessed the world today.
i need to stay with him.
pray for me.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21074662/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21074662/ Mon, 20 Oct 2008 05:57:02 PDT when i see a situation arise i merely remove myself from it.
it is a thought process.

my hand was on fire.
so i watched it burn.
you don't know what release is until you aren't afflicted by anything.

i am a pyre ready to be consumed in vain.
i am a black and vulgar angel awaiting the torments of hell.

but i am above all- not like you.

you will bow on my word.
and no other.

it is only a matter of time.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21042090/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21042090/ Sat, 18 Oct 2008 05:14:03 PDT the beauty in stepping into the past like the future.
little squares of light traverse your hair.
making patterns and beams which eliminate truth...
the effect is a lie. no truth in a sunbeam.
the inverse brings about change and control.
and disgust.
that is.
mirrored.
imposing and limitless.
lovely bright flesh. luminous beautiful flesh.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21033739/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21033739/ Fri, 17 Oct 2008 15:19:34 PDT the universe is smaller.
everything is this room and a few locations spread across a town.
that and the future.

no barbs in the arms of others.
no bee stings at any others' lips.
i would cry but i know better...

what seemed so soon- maslow- now fades into memory.
some beautiful fragile memory which will stretch on for years...
now resting in some isolated garden at the ends of the earth.
held by the sun of some foreign land...

i will miss him the most.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21025277/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/21025277/ Fri, 17 Oct 2008 00:06:01 PDT timid as it is.
it is frosted.
it is deathly grey.
and pulls at my tendons and leaves my muscles in their one place their one calling their center.
i pulled out my conscience and it called me to bleed.
and bled bleu.
to my center.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20931885/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20931885/ Sat, 11 Oct 2008 05:50:10 PDT its either about a girl, or about what i am.
most of the time i favor love, though it is infinitesimally more painful.
love.
yeah. love is what woman are to me.
i know better than to say that out loud.
love is what defines them.
i work in retail, and the way i work is that i should treat every woman i encounter as a minor love.
its unimportant how long, or even their attitude.
but in all honesty, you appreciate the true nature of love more.
when every second you can relate to them.
and with every word you speak, you drift either away or towards them.
i get tired.

love is convoluted.
but i swear, i love her more.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20767394/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20767394/ Tue, 30 Sep 2008 20:27:49 PDT allowing a bright white light to scorch itself a path onto my hand.
wisps of light crashing upon my hand.
and collecting in my skin- so one day i might be collected with them.

i love the breaks in nothing.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20735687/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20735687/ Mon, 29 Sep 2008 04:53:18 PDT thousands of years pass under me.
and above me i wonder.
so today i'm cutting ties.
so i will leave this place to fester in itself.

the sun sings.
so the sun will die.
actions create. but time will undo.
there is no point.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20717866/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20717866/ Sun, 28 Sep 2008 06:31:45 PDT i suck the marrow.
tubes emptied- dried.
grinding underneath pained writhing.
powder scorching babies eyes.

for you, my love.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20699419/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20699419/ Sat, 27 Sep 2008 06:03:33 PDT one god- my only god.

mother minvera set me free and allowed words to form.
since, i evolved. more than i intended.
so that i lost her in the glassy eyes of my freedom.

i wish only one thing of each of you.
simply love her as i love her.

i saw a line from a poem i wrote a long time ago.

'she scratches deeper still
if my life were over
if looks could kill'

if looks could kill.

and i wondered if there was substance there.
so i wandered through.
and i stumbled across her.
the source and the light.
minerva had left me puzzles.
leading me to nothing. simply her name and a portrait.
i left the portrait with the words 'i love you' attached.
and there was very little else to say.

minerva... my daughter.
maslow. my son.

it feels like the same love.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20662887/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20662887/ Thu, 25 Sep 2008 04:42:54 PDT demons let.

as blood- dried.
inside me- outside.

fertile children scuttling about.
rustling and clicking their hooves in the grey matter.

tribulations of fire.
cleansing the depths of my psyche.
inhibiting specific patterns from occurring.
thoughts halted before they release their venom.

"the lights are on outside.
are we meant to turn them off?"

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20652616/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20652616/ Wed, 24 Sep 2008 13:59:29 PDT its 6.45 in the morning.
all i really hear is myself cursing under my breath.

i'll be moving away soon. end of this year.
just need to finish grade 12. another 5 weeks of school.
the work they give me there is retarded. i would expect someone who is retarded could do it.
challenge is lost in education today.

once we would have have had to pivot between overt physical and emotional pain and achievement.
now we pivot between being the standard and not achieving- both roads leading to being forgotten.

i live in the most pure democracy in the world.
yet everyone seems to be conservative economist.
because there is no pure democracy.

no australia isn't causing world wars, but we waste enough goddamn life to make this worth the title of a holocaust.

i started to attempt to realize my christian faith.
its fucked. one of the most convoluted things i've ever done.
i tried, instead of reconciling it with rationality, telling myself it was right and ignoring myself when i protested.
i spit on anyone who tells me i can't do it.
but i cut myself everytime i kill part of my rationality.
i'm never ever going to be able to forget that.
so unless i fall out of myself into someone else, then i don't think it will every happen completely.

i remember when i was a kid, i would pray to god.
asking for toys or whatever i wanted.
thing is, i never expected them to come.
i just thought thats what you're supposed to do.
and that was completely valid then.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20627990/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20627990/ Mon, 22 Sep 2008 21:37:52 PDT
i hung my skin from a tree. 'there is just love'
and then i wondered how far away water was from here.
every step was further away from my skin. and i worried.
how far could i go?
how far could anyone go without leaving it behind.
diamonds pierced the ground beneath me. everything was light-filled... yet still so ugly without reason. 'no one seemed alive to me. everyone was mundane and left traces of themselves over everything i kept.'

i was afraid in this place. where everything i said seemed fragile.
i'm still afraid.

everything i said refused the truth.
until the truth became the problem.
the truth was breaking and twisting.
i'm twisting with it 'i need this and more.'

(i just ran. fuck my skin. fuck everything but forward.)

and i found you.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20573722/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20573722/ Fri, 19 Sep 2008 18:48:42 PDT like i act when i see people stray too close to traffic.
or like i think when i see dead animals lying on the sides of roads.

'... i see the dead grass parrot, it looks at the asphalt now, but will be upturned to a new perspective when the next car follows in the previous cars wake. it seems less active. someone has taken its tail feathers. they have been ripped out... '

all accepting is seeing nothing.
seeing the road and the bird and the cars as part of a bigger means to an end of perception.

panopticon.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20465815/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20465815/ Sat, 13 Sep 2008 04:26:25 PDT Once there was a boy who had a large dog; the dog was called Xentrix.
One day the boy was walking in the woods with Xentrix; he stumbled on a wooden door.
Xentrix opened the door, and the boy followed him inside.
What the boy saw amazed him: there was a cave one mile long, and inside the cave were one million other children and a million dogs.
The boy could not hold back his tears when he heard Xentrix say, "Welcome my friend. These are my people; now they are your people too."



as stories travel from words to mouths.
such is this- to your mouth.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20465378/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20465378/ Sat, 13 Sep 2008 03:15:06 PDT
by the Red Sparowes.

thinking is second to hands today.
when i move my hands, then i allow myself momentary windows of thinking.

life and theory have failed me.
practicality is assumed suffering.
distancing yourself from it means suffering.
even the middle ground, neither striving nor resting leaves you with the profound idea that you're wronging.
wronging mother and father.

i sprayed myself with theories of oedipus.
and of dreams and of 'waking'
;feelings like seriousness and completeness.
sentimentality.

smiles are times between smirking.
a product of our innate need to save ourselves from inability.
innocuous screams which leave us with silence.
innocent games which leave us with empty hallways and metal chairs- long removed from the ore they originated from.

;smiles with windows of deceit. smattered over our faces arbitrarily.
scratching at the back of our palate trying to steal away from sight, but then surfacing to cover our intention with politeness.
completely arbitrary.

and being polite until we've left.
being polite until you've left.
then smirking.
that deep loathing of what you are and what you've become after what you'd imagined in school.
this bitter resentment that coagulates in your mind and chokes your throat in the night- when you could cry without waking a soul.
but stop. AND CHOKE.

it is transmitted through your pores.
and you see light. light filled rooms every day.
day in and day out.
in the recesses of your mind you see us.

this light blinds you and enrages you.
like being held to the sun.
you scream at us. and your hold us to the sun like you have been held to the sun.

and we scream

forward:light

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20350636/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20350636/ Sat, 06 Sep 2008 02:18:09 PDT
"till one day. when the universe sets us free. so we might fall into a fraction of ourselves."

liberate yourself. before the universe does it for you.
so you may call on your fellow-man like you call on yourself.

look up the lyrics of xiu xiu luber.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20261990/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20261990/ Sun, 31 Aug 2008 22:53:08 PDT It is control. This absolute control.
Being one with everything yet being above it.
Consciously its detestable. One who savours it is tainted and is disgusting.

(when I reached down into her panties, she moved her legs to accommodate. It was then I realised I wasn’t really here. the night was spent sleeping wakefully.)

(unconscious) covetousness is beautiful.
It is absolute. Granted it is detestable.
Deep rifts afflict those who would crave it.
deep rifts separate us from it.

(a sparrow skips on a rail. Eyeing me(the side-long view of its head reminds me of jerking a neck loose.))
though it was the end of the story. The sparrow flew away.

I was only finishing what I had started. Proudly. Proudly started.
And proudly finished.
(-I smiled)

the dirt is mundane. He who smiles with dirt on his face is naïve and is detestable. Whatever issues from him is tainted.
Why be inhuman and crave humanity? Why not crave inhumanity.
(Crave inhumanity)
still naïve. Probably my fault.

It’s twelve thirty.
A bass note hums. And it reminds me of plodding.
Plo. O. the o is tainted. Thus, so is the word.
This is human. This is what humanity is.
Tainted ideas tainting ideas. Urine in a glass of water. Or blood on tan walls.
Association kills euphoria. As euphoria is inhuman. (inhuman, more than human- An Idea)

a heartbeat cracks inside my chest.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20190348/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/20190348/ Wed, 27 Aug 2008 18:47:06 PDT i can't say that. but i recorded myself whispering it last night.

i rationalized silently this morning:

'god has three letters in his name...'
'each letter is a metaphor...'
'...each letter is a (black) bird on a (rusty) fence...'
'...each fence has a name.'

and i came to the conclusion that god indeed existed.
even though i would never know the name of the birds. i could find a fence, and that might be enough.
but i guess what i really noticed was that now the fence had a name.
that was different.
why were the birds black. was it merely cliche?
why was the fence rusty? was it merely assumption?

was there something more? that i had missed? (i thought i missed something)

my coffee was waiting for me so i stopped thinking.
maybe next time, yeah?

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/19939499/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/19939499/ Wed, 13 Aug 2008 17:53:45 PDT so i swallowed it in flakes until the last peice sat on my tounge.
a thousand peices had passed into me. but this one stayed.

this was my soul and through this purgatory- i would hold it forever.

just then sky blue blood flowed from the side of my mouth. like the sky was melting.

and my throat broke open like christs flesh.
and i fed it to a child. ours.

its rosy cheeks turning a darker blue than my own blood.
it smiled at me and i smiled back.

just then my chest burst and maslow was batptised- and brought into this world as a child under god.

in god we trust.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/19856089/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/19856089/ Sat, 09 Aug 2008 02:38:24 PDT
i'm sorry to everyone i've ever publicly embarrassed on account of my ignorance. i could have ruined your day.

i think that i owe an apology to anyone i've deflowered. obviously it didn't mean enough to make it right.

i'm sorry for the people i've left abruptly.
perhaps for the people i will again... i will again...

i'm sorry about the lies.
but i suppose it was the one original one that i should be sorry for.
i'm sorry i wasn't myself.

for the ants and flies and bees and wasps and beetles and cockroaches and anything i've ever ended without respect to it.
the music i've turned off.

i'm apologizing for the real things.

the cross i bled on...

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/19597464/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/19597464/ Fri, 25 Jul 2008 20:41:10 PDT which incessantly begs for grazed knees and broken noses.
burs and thorns scratching stone.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18923366/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18923366/ Thu, 19 Jun 2008 03:15:27 PDT its a deep resentment of whoever has it that really pushes me.
its ostracising me. consciously too.
i walked up to someone and actually thought
'this is going to be uncomfortable.'
how can you recover from that.
you can't say 'oh, maybe not'
because thats not how it works.
i mean, i could say it out loud. doubt that would impress them though.
taken aback maybe. but impressed...

i love the chauffer by deftones.
i can say that.
that song is fulfilling. you know the feeling when a song just fulfills.
it happens a lot for me...

i wonder, does everyone use a nasal tone with the most colloquial language when they're sad or angry.
someone was on the verge of crying today and all i could make out were a few slang words and a 'fucking' or two.
i could make out they were sad so maybe it doesn't matter that much.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18847583/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18847583/ Sun, 15 Jun 2008 01:12:02 PDT the still air is letting it glide down to the ground.
and letting it wallow in the depths of the room.

no longer a pertinent atmosphere to keep the mood afloat.
just the stiff, invalid remnants of wasted air.

as a result i am writing about writers block.
or the realisation that words are completely useless.
you don't know what i feel. or i don't really care.
you could know. but what would be the point if i didn't know that you knew.

its like talking to a black board.
writing for hours and hours.
until all thats left is the chalky outline of static.

minutes later it could be dust on the floor.
just by turning my back once. hours of my life is lost
years of thought plastered across the real world disintegrated in minutes.

permanence isn't the issue.
even if it lasted forever, how many people would really care.
if you even exist.
i am inclined to think, humanely, that you do
humanely.


anyway corollary chords.
don't exist.
its all a moment plastered across a frame-rate.
thats why lights blur.
if i can avoid a frame rate. and go faster than that or even slower.
then i will actually have completely killed time.
and i might be happy and sad all at once.

wouldn't that be nice.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18847570/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18847570/ Sun, 15 Jun 2008 01:10:47 PDT the still air is letting it glide down to the ground.
and letting it wallow in the depths of the room.

no longer a pertinent atmosphere to keep the mood afloat.
just the stiff, invalid remnants of wasted air.

as a result i am writing about writers block.
or the realisation that words are completely useless.
you don't know what i feel. or i don't really care.
you could know. but what would be the point if i didn't know that you knew.

its like talking to a black board.
writing for hours and hours.
until all thats left is the chalky outline of static.

minutes later it could be dust on the floor.
just by turning my back once. hours of my life is lost
years of thought plastered across the real world disintegrated in minutes.

permanence isn't the issue.
even if it lasted forever, how many people would really care.
if you even exist.
i am inclined to think, humanely, that you do
humanely.


anyway corollary chords.
don't exist.
its all a moment plastered across a frame-rate.
thats why lights blur.
if i can avoid a frame rate. and go faster than that or even slower.
then i will actually have completely killed time.
and i might be happy and sad all at once.

wouldn't that be nice.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18705718/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18705718/ Fri, 06 Jun 2008 22:14:15 PDT that questions, are all there has ever been.
what happens next you ask, even when you decided your fate long ago.
your eyes look to the sun, and question it.
hands feel in the dark, for walls you already knew existed.

the phone book has thousands of numbers.
each one is the right one.
so why are we looking. when we can know.

i really. only. want. toknow.

just to give me some sense of. finality.
which names. will love me...

it is 3.15 PM on a saturday.
the clouds are overshadowing my house.
while blue skies are raining on the town.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18657051/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18657051/ Wed, 04 Jun 2008 06:18:32 PDT it's endophasia?
its the voice in my head.
this inaudible whisper that drives me to nothing.
again and again and again.
i think i can tie it up with sleep, or action.
something that distracts it from me.
this fucked up little space.
i see things in the dark, thinking hard enough doesn't make it there.
i reached out, nothing was there

"there never will be"
"look, your rooms like you left it"
"your bags open. you left it like that."

no. no. no. that is not how it works.
this doesn't just contract for your world.
i can feel myself inside her now.
i felt that curve on her side.
as she felt me.
and a smile that never meant a thing.
reiteration.

"this really isn't right worth it no."

fuck. msn is flickering sound and there is a tone behind it like a hum.
a violin or a speaker priming for sound. or part of a sample that crackles before the sound.

its so complacent. i hear it every time.
or the speaker. why would current run through it.
its moronic. why would they do that, it doesn't make sense.
i want a sensory deprivation tank. i have the plans in my head, and some locations. its not aesthetically pleasing in any traditional sense.

"anyway, that noise"

but the lack thereof is a oxymoron. thus it is.
endophasia. its like whatever i've written has been some cosmic transmission, rather than any real evidence of intellect.

a priori elitism is what i would like to call it.
like the tzars knowing full well their death is accounted for.
i would continue to write if i was a tzar.
and the tzar would continue to ignore it.

"like a good little shepherd boy"

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18567794/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18567794/ Thu, 29 May 2008 21:08:15 PDT when you think about it, you can't do it.
so last night i kept telling myself that i wasn't going to sleep.
that i didn't know when it was going to happen.
then that that was not how it worked.
rather, i would sleep, because thats not what you think about to be awake.
goddamn sleep is hard.

when its dark no one controls their heads.
their heads come alive and start dwelling or racing or choking or numbing.
cutting and bludgeoning.
sedating.

there is no escape.
i pray to ghosts that they would take away my mind.
i look, i really do. but it seems there is no way out.
still, there are beautiful things left.
love and music and writing and my bass.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18515332/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18515332/ Mon, 26 May 2008 17:36:04 PDT
this is my challenge.

something so moronic that i would struggle to comprehend its cosmic spirit.

i think i will start soon.

a cosmic spirit is the way in which words coincide and react to each other.
someone has to have this if their words are to interconnect.

merzbow can dissuade sounds to coincide.
so thats my starting point.

oh i can't write nothing.
even though it makes complete sense.

]]> ~maslowmassacre http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18497527/ http://maslowmassacre.deviantart.com/journal/18497527/ Sun, 25 May 2008 16:01:17 PDT i miss the warm winning over the cold and i miss the cold.

i love this song. and sleepwalker.
only modest mouse though...

someday i'm going to wake up, and i'm going to be so safe and secure nothing i do will matter, because everything i safe.

some days i believe in destiny.

]]> ~maslowmassacre