These words fall upon deaf ears.  I wonder if my task is futile.  Finding then grabbing onto inspiration to have it end there? 

Scandalous voices are heard.  The reward reaches the one who is the whore, selling the self to the great distraction, the grinding machine, its teeth grating.  White-collar criminals, liars poisoning the blind who indulge in their own misdirection, misinformation. 

They could change, if only they knew.  They could find a way to break the spell, unbind themselves from the falsities.  Instead they carry on, inhibiting themselves and taking me prisoner as well.  I, forced to live in their cage, struggle to pry the bars apart and step through.  And my words fall upon deaf ears, so the eternal struggle continues with nothing more than a dubious promise made to oneself of some reward in the next plane of existence.

The need for glamour and material possessions outweighs the raw emotion and passion, and blood and flesh and bone is needed to fill the void created thereof.  The derivation of pleasure from someone else’s pain, from some form of destruction, from the mushroom cloud that paints the sky.  And we all choke on the smoke of our own stagnation as I bellow my words upon brainwashed ears unwilling to hear my Truth. 

Drums beating the wrong rhythm—war drums—enticing violence.  Ignorance breeding itself and bigotry in young minds, 21^st century hate. 

The skin that shows itself if only to attract a camera’s lens and produce a name in the paper, not realizing it has been sold to the patriarchal scheme that enslaves and claims possession of the desperate and astray.  And too many words fall upon indifferent ears, unwilling to wake.

So I become mad with ambition, refusing to change, refusing to fall prey to the game they all play so well, refusing to partake in the dying, refusing to buy their lines of deceit.  The world can fabricate its own artificial nature, but I refuse to bow down, be taken.  I refuse to become enslaved, to be led by gluttonous killers.  The Spirit rages within and refuses to forget its Source; the Woman is still connected to the breathing pulse of Life.