Would you like to know the real reason why I don’t have a smart phone, I don’t use facebook, I rarely send emails, I avoid internet communication almost entirely?
It’s because everyone is talking to everyone else at once. And no-one knows who anyone else is talking to. And no-one knows what anyone else is talking about.
I can be having different, separate, deep, meaningful conversations with many people on many topics at the same time. There is no commitment online: It is possible to jump from one chat to the next so easily.
If there is a pause in your typing… are you talking to someone else? I have to tell myself “You’re just thinking” or “You’re just feeling overwhelmed” But I have no way of knowing this to be true! I can’t see your body language I can’t read your facial expressions I can’t connect with the soul reflected in your eyes. This makes it harder for me to trust. A digital wall between us This plants seeds of suspicion and jealousy. Thorns that grow up and choke my heart
But real life communication is not like this. In the real world, when there is a pause in the conversation I can easily tell whether the other person is thinking carefully or if they are distracted by something else. In the real world, if the person I’m talking to walks away to talk to someone else, I know, and I can walk away and talk to someone else too. In the real world, it isn’t possible to become emotionally invested in a conversation which has already evaporated.
So now I go back and look over the whole Discussion. Suddenly it looks very different. Those moments where you weren’t saying anything begin to seem incredibly ambiguous: What were you really doing while I poured my heart out into that chatbox? Were you thinking about how to respond? Were you struck down by emotion? Or were you just talking to someone else, and reading a random internet article…
I’m not saying give up technology for my sake. The fact that I feel jealous and suspicious is not your fault. My emotional responses are my own problem to deal with. But I refuse to suck it up, desensitize, stop caring or push my feelings down. So how do I deal with them?
Johnny is a Bishop, Heretic, Prophet, Priest, Apostle and ASM (Ascended Spiritual Master). On his good days he is often also the one true almighty God incarnate. He enjoys writing theology and philosophy articles and spreading the Gospel promise of Universal Salvation
I step out the door into the frost Walk once more to the fountain of loss. Memories haunt every corner on the way Hiding in these trees that the wind would sway
Against the grey clouds and white sky I can’t help but let my imagination sigh. I’m walking through an Autumn tunnel And standing in a wet winter puddle
To the left is my third school Desolation brings a breeze cold; not cool. The grounds; abandoned. The gates; locked. But my memories would have this scene mocked
I see children, wearing the blue of the day Laughing and running their childhood away A rather stark contrast to this black I wear now I still smile to see a uniform as I glance down
I’m at a cross in the road covered by leaves On the right is a place for someone who believes To my left leads another tunnel of trees But the evergreen conceals darker memories;
An image of friendship confronts my eyes Friendship caught in a walking web of lies It disappears into the darkness and distance Leaving behind loyalty, trust and innocence.
I bend to pick up these pieces of past Why is it that these virtues never last? Why did friendship have to walk behind Lust embracing a love of my mind?
I drop the naive back on the pavement Ignorance shatters and secures my only repayment I’m walking on without looking behind For if I did… I wonder what I would find.
I lived in that house. I know this road. Still the same lawn; ever un-mowed. There’s the park where I used to fly On swings so high you could touch the sky.
I look to the other side of the street To see three who “by coincidence” did meet Smiles, laughter and completely alive I blink and let the image die
Onwards, to the fountain, I’m almost there This is the big one for which I prepared. A circle of significance, clock of no time This hunk of metal hides meaning behind grime
The image is so strong this time around That my whole body lifts itself off the ground And I find myself walking through twilight rain To the overflowing fountain from a train.
The path is deserted; Everyone has found cover Alone I am walking, but wait, there’s another A beautiful girl radiating red sunshine Confronted with her, the weather seems fine
She smiles, walking towards me with arms extended I walk towards her feeling as if time had just ended We fall into each other and on the spot embrace While the freezing rain falls; soaking her smiling face
But we don’t mind. Just stand still, holding on Once over this moment will be forever gone I close my eyes and enter a void of bliss The world’s best kiss doesn’t compare with this
I can feel a cold wind licking my cheek The amazing feeling begins to grow weak. I wake up to find the sky still grey Still that same dreary winters-mid-day
Memories can bend a chain but not break one To break a chain requires something more of a gun. With that in mind I turn, walk and climb Find the glass bridge and recall a crime.
Lust’s lying spider smiles as he holds close a close friend I wish to ignore what I saw, but can’t even pretend. She stood still while with most gentle caress The damned deadly Demon her beautiful body did undress.
I’m watching my memory be murdered once more The past includes images that strike at my core. Trust turned to lust while loyalty and love were just lies; Nothing of this nostalgia retains purity to my eyes.
Time to learn, turn and leave this place Walk back, wipe the rain from my face Back through Hornsby, Normanhurst and Wahroonga; Through the lies and lost love. What cold nostalgia.
Johnny is a Bishop, Heretic, Prophet, Priest, Apostle and ASM (Ascended Spiritual Master). On his good days he is often also the one true almighty God incarnate. He enjoys writing theology and philosophy articles and spreading the Gospel promise of Universal Salvation
I will fight for you Because you are my friend If anyone tries to hurt you I’ll be there to defend
It sickens me to see how sad you are Come into my world, be brave, don’t fret. They defame you while we watch from afar But I’ll stand up for you, never forget.
Why did I bother?
I will not fight you I value you more than that
Why do you fight me I thought you were a friend After all my trust and loyalty Is this how it’s going to end?
It sickens me to hear how happy you are You show no signs of guilt or regret and defame me while I watch from afar So am I a friend, or did you forget?
Or maybe you never cared anyway
get out of my life get out of my life get out of my life get out of my head I want you dead.
Johnny is a Bishop, Heretic, Prophet, Priest, Apostle and ASM (Ascended Spiritual Master). On his good days he is often also the one true almighty God incarnate. He enjoys writing theology and philosophy articles and spreading the Gospel promise of Universal Salvation
Johnny is a Bishop, Heretic, Prophet, Priest, Apostle and ASM (Ascended Spiritual Master). On his good days he is often also the one true almighty God incarnate. He enjoys writing theology and philosophy articles and spreading the Gospel promise of Universal Salvation
Did you dream about me? That’s all I am to most people now. No address. No phone. No facebook. Dimly remembered. I recognise people from long long ago everyday and when they see me It is strange strained stares that I draw. Stares that say “Who are you?” “How do I know you?” “Why do I recognise you?”
I am dark nostalgia Someone who sat before you and shared your torture, Someone who knows how to speak your language, Someone who remembers where you live, the bus you caught, the school you attended Yet you still can’t quite place that presence of the past in the present.
And yet my face draws dazed recollections into your eyes Your gaze swiftly averted Fluttered heart breaking You don’t remember me The only explanation You never knew me The final answer Did you dream… One last hope – About me?
Johnny is a Bishop, Heretic, Prophet, Priest, Apostle and ASM (Ascended Spiritual Master). On his good days he is often also the one true almighty God incarnate. He enjoys writing theology and philosophy articles and spreading the Gospel promise of Universal Salvation
In the one hour past dawn, freezing cold I wore nothing. You wore Black. Was it your practicality? There was no light for absorbing sunheat Could it have been your mind? Grief at yet another holiday The station was warm enough to me. All the smiling faces, Children wrapped up in the warmth of their innocence The loving arms of warm ignorance; A smiling mother Using her whole body to shield the future from the cold world. What was behind that smile? Fear, uncertainty, love But most of all, protection. Your mother smiled in the same way And you felt for the arms of your father. A blind master of the many colours she commands Her eyes reflected the black back not to what she saw Only to herself.
My mask kept me warm. All through the shivers and goosebumps All I ever needed was my head. And warmth enough to insist “I’m not cold”
The train came and went within a minute Enough time to exchange a merry goodbye Time to see a body of smiles To see a face of resignation And the sadness in her eyes. For the whole minute, you waved to your father.
On the train you slept. Restless, you curled yourself up, unrolled, Got into a tangle, not once did you look comfortable But I stayed silent, watching, thinking. A spider once told me “A simple arm over the shoulder can go a long way” to spin the web further.
Silent and blind.
What a way to set up for tragedy I might have been wearing blue, but “I’m not cold” Yet, where my arm lay said otherwise You were warm to touch, comfort in the air. So why were you shivering? I felt you warm when you felt cold “I’m not cold”
I sat next to you for seven hours Awake or not, Asleep or not I had eyes for the scenery I couldn’t help it The people around us were too interesting I chuckled as they guffawed Smiled at their slang Made the world rhyme with every action they made But the most unchanging, beautiful view would not have been the same without you. The world rushed past the window I gave it a glance or two But my mind was focused on you. Your mother has been aiming you at God Choose your father and touch the trigger. Oh how I wanted to hug you, hold you, help you but never love. A lie became the truth. “Lean on me” the three word poem in my mind Three simple words, held back inside Snuggle, cuddle, hold, hug
Sleep.
You tossed and turned, dreaming of God knows what. My tiredness only wanted your rest, My inaction was silence, observation, thought. Philosophers may understand the world But they aren’t the people who change it Warm ignorance escaped my gaze and fell to you again I waited and waited, expecting to see a memory of the spider playing with his prey play out again. But No face-to-face revelation occurred.
I wanted to give you warmth, comfort, and help But I never gave myself the opportunity because “I’m not cold”
Johnny is a Bishop, Heretic, Prophet, Priest, Apostle and ASM (Ascended Spiritual Master). On his good days he is often also the one true almighty God incarnate. He enjoys writing theology and philosophy articles and spreading the Gospel promise of Universal Salvation
“What do you think I should do with you?” I sigh. Not this shit again. The unanswerable question. Haven’t teachers learned by now that asking the criminal student what their punishment is going to be only results in blank stares and a mumbling of “Umm..I dunno”? I mean, how the hell do you answer a question like that? “Well sir I think it would be most excellent if you give me a piggy back and buy me my lunch today” or “Oh please give me a good spanking sir! I’ve been a very naughty boy”. Even a hearty response of “Aye my lord!” would be as good an answer as any to this ridiculous question. But do you know the funny thing? Every time the request for my most valuable opinion on this matter has been thrown at me, I’ve always managed to somehow produce the correct answer. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done; whether I’ve just murdered a classmate with a lead pencil for stealing my ruler (The bastard deserved it), I’ve burnt down the science block because science is the worst subject in the world (Who the heck designed that syllabus?!) or I’ve just stolen the bank account details of every teacher in the school: I always manage to smooth talk out of trouble. Hell… It must go with the name. A-Lex: “Above the law”. Just give me time to make a considered response and I’ll have the words they want to hear, presented in Iambic pentameter with a British accent to boot. But don’t let that fool you into thinking I’m ‘lying’, oh no I could never do that. Everything I say is completely truthful and sincere. It has to be! And so here I am; faced with the impossible question again. One multiple choice answer away from a million and one dollars. What did I do this time? Well let me put it this way: This is what happens when the clockwork orange doesn’t drink his milk.
I was born with a brain to rule the world, whether by anarchy or monarchy is irrelevant; all you need is something to think about and a good dosage of ADHD to keep you from thinking about it. I grew up free of added substances, and oh what a stroppy young lad I was! Centre of the universe, as all children tend to be, and ready to fight to maintain the position. Ironically I was filled with modesty and far from spoilt, it’s kind of the case when you come from a loving, yet quite dysfunctional family. Nevertheless, from a young age I had the criminal tendencies and loved them. My teachers and carers didn’t. I found myself in trouble every second day, but managed to hang on; the fire of my wrongdoings growing ever higher. Eventually the flames flew out of control; the straw that broke the camels back; I had performed the perfect lead pencil poisoning. We were sitting there in the library, cutting and pasting, or some other tedious task designed to keep a collection of five year old kids occupied, and my ruler had gone missing. I was filled with rage, someone must have stolen it! Lo and behold, there it was, in the hands of my best friend. I drew my lead pencil, immediately confronting him and demanding to know why he was holding my ruler. “This is my ruler…?” That was as good as an admission of guilt for me. I wore the best mask of rage a child of that age could ask for, and plunged my pencil deep into his chest. His failure to breathe registered in my mind as the sign of victory and I pressed the pencil in harder, grinning sadistically as all that beautiful blood gushed from the wound. The other children screamed and ran for the Librarian, the fools, my friend wasn’t complaining; I hadn’t heard a word of protest from him. Foam, phlegm and other disgusting bile of the inner body was bubbling at his throat and coating his lips, which had begun to turn blue. I didn’t recognise the signs of imminent death, if I had I would have been as horrified as the rest of my class mates; and so in ignorance I assumed I was merely providing an eye for an eye, a pencil for a ruler, and enjoyed it as much as possible. The librarian finally parted us, and everything that occurred next happened in such a whirlwind that to describe it in this linear fashion would not do it justice. I had killed him. To this day he still has to wear nappies to compensate for the damage I did, and to be honest, when you’re wearing pants like that, that’s as good as death to me.
It had taken them a while, but they had realised something was seriously wrong with me. And so, to the best and most expensive doctor I had to go. “He doesn’t really seem to belong” “I don’t WANT to belong” “You don’t want to belong? aww, that’s too bad, because you see… You ‘need’ to belong. If you don’t want to belong, we’re going to make you. We’re going to make you a good boy.” Drugs, prescription or otherwise, ruin life. I was administered cocaine with a brand name, and that ruined my life by fixing it. So this is what it feels like to belong huh? Not half bad… 103% on every test, teachers falling over themselves to have me in their class, give me merit awards, call me the model student. Super concentration ability, incubated natural intelligence to the point of genius. Sounds good. Lack of sleep, the inability to talk to someone’s face, headaches, the loss of my sense of taste. Sounds good? Changing school six times, losing sight of what it means to have a best friend, losing the creative side of my brain to logical, mathematical, computerised thought processes. This is what it means to belong? Alright. What a Dreary world… I rebelled in much the same manner as I always had, but in much more controlled doses, and always escaping punishment.
Nine years on, and I’d lost my emotions. If this is what it means to belong, I still want nothing to do with it! Why do they keep telling us all that drugs are bad, while feeding them to me as if the whole country depends on it, and then I only end up like this anyway. Hypocrisy on every level! My dosage had doubled, tripled and doubled again, and I had had enough.
I didn’t drink my milk. And here I am; facing the consequences. It seems rather sad to me, that I truly do need to belong in order to survive in this world. Belonging is annoying, but it’s something that has to be endured. The world doesn’t need another terrorist, murderer, rapist. The world needs a good leader, not a criminal. I know this and understand it. Hate it and accept it.
But it doesn’t stop me enjoying myself every now and then. The door of the Principals’ office clicks loudly, locking the outside world away. The one sir to rule them all slowly moves back towards his desk, his shoes thudding loudly and echoing off the walls with every step. He sits down at the extraneously large table, rests his arms upon it, crosses his fingers together and glares at me over his glasses. I smile and stare right back. “I don’t know sir; What do you think I… should do with you?”
Johnny is a Bishop, Heretic, Prophet, Priest, Apostle and ASM (Ascended Spiritual Master). On his good days he is often also the one true almighty God incarnate. He enjoys writing theology and philosophy articles and spreading the Gospel promise of Universal Salvation
We were standing there one winters day Me and Ba and Shank and Ray “The seats are wet”, “I know hey” Oh look there’s Scott, “His hair is so gay”
There was a time where I would have defended Raised up my arms and cried most offended Scott is a friend “Hey stop it you guys” “Give it up with the slander and lies”
But no not today oh no no no way Scott is the reason the sky is so grey. I look left to déjà vu this dreary day; For fate I have a debt to repay.
Ironic, how he’s no longer my friend There’s no doubt how this is going to end. Should I try to correct the fault? Let my hard feelings out of that vault?
Yet I can no longer trust Scott, so I refuse. Andrew Semler has been naught but bad news. He has hit my moral event horizon on the side which sends our friendship long gone
He’s made the mistake you don’t make twice The kind of promise I won’t take thrice He’s entered the game and stolen the dice My poker face now is a cold mask of ice.
He knows I’ve played this game before And I’ll not lose again; this time it’s war! I have confidence either way for once Security in my success against this dunce
I’m married. I simply can’t lose My loving wife will join me on the cruise So I’m not competing for a partner Not searching for a happily ever after.
All I want is to ruin Scott’s dreams And do it all with my smile like a beam. Yes I’m a bastard, a horrible fiend I will no longer tolerate Scott on the scene
I write it all with a touch of guilt But that’s good, it’s how I’m built There will be no regret by the time I am done Only plenty of guilt with which to have fun
Already the emails have found themselves sent The third vertex already finds herself bent It seems like an early success But I am not so easy to impress
My power on the internet has only grown stronger My stalking resumé grows longer and longer I can see all that has exchanged between My favourite nerd and my Redheaded Queen
At the slightest hint of love and wonder I will ruthlessly tear their hearts asunder And it’s none of this from Jealousy, yet. It’s the nerve of this shadow in every respect
I’ve fought against him for a whole year It’s time for the right words to enter his ear. This happens to be the most fitting way To get across what I’ve wanted to say:
You are not you; you are stubbornly me And I’m sorry to destroy your heart, honestly But if it takes such murder to make you see Then I have no regrets; Let it be.
Johnny is a Bishop, Heretic, Prophet, Priest, Apostle and ASM (Ascended Spiritual Master). On his good days he is often also the one true almighty God incarnate. He enjoys writing theology and philosophy articles and spreading the Gospel promise of Universal Salvation
It was quite an absurd occurrence which gave rise to reason for seven words of swift deterrence Which I’ll now relate through more
The first word can be used to shout and identify who is who The word we would be lost without It allows me to talk to you
The second word was my weapon of choice Inverse osmosis, so give a bored blink But it’s meaning should be given voice What worth is the the chance to think
The third word was the same as the first And this time with less glee The subject couldn’t be any worse If I know you’re talking about me.
The fourth word was almost a pet hate To me it’s all a show So throw me maths and throw me fate I’ll believe, but never know
The fifth word was a name actually The glowing opposite of death Someone who I love to see She is addressed as Beth
The sixth word was the same as the third But following the other five Apprehension flies high with the birds Pointing my heart toward knives
The seventh word was a final blow Of what I want and won’t See it only went to show What you can do but don’t
Johnny is a Bishop, Heretic, Prophet, Priest, Apostle and ASM (Ascended Spiritual Master). On his good days he is often also the one true almighty God incarnate. He enjoys writing theology and philosophy articles and spreading the Gospel promise of Universal Salvation
Walking, talking, Rushing off in excitement and me not pursuing. A cross between a train station, my year nine camp accommodation sleeping quarters, and the bubblers outside at my primary school. I let you go, Head inside to the hall, meet people, Talk to a troll for some reason that escapes me. The troll provides some bogan philosophy, I head back out, try to find you, looking through walls windows and mirrors, they’re all the same anyway, find you, your face is just as happy as before, but it has a falseness about it which I don’t know if it was there the whole time and I just didn’t notice or it is a new development. I ask what is wrong, you say “nothing” and are so sincere. You aren’t even acting; you ARE sincere, and yet I know you are false. “Alright… but just in case, I want to hug you to make sure”. She does and falls asleep;
You slept with your head on my shoulder and your arms and legs wrapped around me. As tall as me, and only a little younger, yet you were lighter than a feather, and I held you as I would hold my one year old sister.
I walked and the world moved around us in a way that didn’t match up with how my legs were telling it to move. Down the middle of a busy street, across crossings that were lacking lights and painted stripes, one second, or five, or a minute no cars, the next one hundred. I moved out of their way, understanding the danger, but not feeling it. Too calm, and you slept as if nothing at all were happening.
The scene changed to become more grassy, and you flickered in and out of existence on my shoulder. I carried you across the suburban Noork’s elbow. Street, turned to bridge, bridge over train tracks, and before I had even stepped onto the bend, you had disappeared, I forgot all about you, and the dream flowed on into the morning.
Only when my eyes open did I remember that, and realise what a strange, amazing dance we had just performed.
But you’ll never remember it.
The last message I received from you was sent before our dance, but only received after; Dream about cruise ships and ball pit rooms. Usually you are there, always there in case I need you. But not today. I don’t remember my dance involving any juggling. It wasn’t a dance of love, sadness, joy, happiness. It wasn’t a dance of the night, it wasn’t a dance of the morning, it wasn’t a dance of light, or of the moon falling. No guns were firing no swords were drawn, it wasn’t a dance of bullets or skin torn. No words were said, but it was no dance of silence. In simplicity lies beauty and perfection. It was a pure dance, no more. I dreamt of the cruise ship, but not the ball pit. I dreamt a dance, we danced a dance, And you’ll never remember it. In simplicity lies beauty and perfection. To walk while the world runs? It was a pure dance, no more. And you’ll never remember it.
Johnny is a Bishop, Heretic, Prophet, Priest, Apostle and ASM (Ascended Spiritual Master). On his good days he is often also the one true almighty God incarnate. He enjoys writing theology and philosophy articles and spreading the Gospel promise of Universal Salvation
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Would you like to know the real reason why
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I step out the door into the frost![2016-01-04-1451947020-1057181-Betrayal4edde75f206fe-thumb[1].jpg](https://antipodeanosmosis.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/2016-01-04-1451947020-1057181-betrayal4edde75f206fe-thumb1.jpg?resize=320%2C398)
I will fight for you![failure-edited[1].jpg](https://antipodeanosmosis.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/failure-edited1.jpg?resize=676%2C364)
You do… do you?![dark-dream-christiano-torres[1].jpg](https://antipodeanosmosis.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/dark-dream-christiano-torres1.jpg?resize=640%2C480)
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In the one hour past dawn, freezing cold![Clockwork-Orange-34[1].jpg](https://antipodeanosmosis.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/clockwork-orange-341.jpg?resize=676%2C282)
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We were standing there one winters day
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