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Array ( [sid] => 3004 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Diary of Isabelle Christina [time] => 2002-08-30 06:54:49 [hometext] => its prose....njoy [bodytext] => Entry: Rat Dance & Wizards
Time: 4:30Am
Place: A quite town in southern Portugal

Here lie the remnants of merchant minds that created a malicious, vicious circle of wealth, and the corpse of the ruthless capitalist who once watched as the downfall of civilizations occurred before his very eyes…the end of a sham came when someone pulled the curtain on a whore called economy, a vile fallacy created by power famished rulers who had been playing wizard of oz all along…

Somehow now at the end I feel exhausted, perhaps this is attributed to the banal practices of wishing incessantly; “may the revolution come alive, may my soul break free from the convulsions of loneliness and self sympathy…may the drudgery resulting from the endless slavery to a preposterous, ludicrous system of conformance to normality end…may I never have to lend my soul to the devil…may I never have to hypothecate my conscience at 100% margin of my sanity and conduct a legal or equitable mortgage of the very ground I stand on…how I wish to no longer be part of the line…this long line of ardent, watchful, keen faces…for their next turn into destiny…with proposals of unfulfilled desires and strategic maps of dubious shortcuts within their minds…how I wish to step out and away form this rat race…”

If this wish comes true…who will I be; a silent spectator A.K.A the RAT who quit. There are no cats here, just us; perplexed mice scurrying across the face of time, age and life…we are chased by our own wants transformed into needs. The Media king sits aloof on his mighty pedestal….he plays a merry tune and all dance to the rhythm of their libido….lost between this world and a world that does not exist….a brilliant performance….called the ‘Rat Dance’

Someone shot the media king; perhaps it was silence and simplicity… it should have been but it wasn’t all over the papers yesterday…the papers were no more…there were no posters and no advertisements. The crowd turned senile….it could not survive outside the media bubble anymore…it needed the vanity, like air to breathe and survive….

I must go now….for I can see that the trance is coming to an end and this euphoria of rebellion and bitterness instigated by the intricate complexities of technology and industrialization is dissipating. The fit of madness is over…back to so called reality…shall be back some other day…some other time

[comments] => 1 [counter] => 171 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Euphoria [notes] => [ihome] => 1 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
The Diary of Isabelle Christina

Contributed by Euphoria on Friday, 30th August 2002 @ 06:54:49 AM in AEST
Topic: oops



Entry: Rat Dance & Wizards
Time: 4:30Am
Place: A quite town in southern Portugal

Here lie the remnants of merchant minds that created a malicious, vicious circle of wealth, and the corpse of the ruthless capitalist who once watched as the downfall of civilizations occurred before his very eyes…the end of a sham came when someone pulled the curtain on a whore called economy, a vile fallacy created by power famished rulers who had been playing wizard of oz all along…

Somehow now at the end I feel exhausted, perhaps this is attributed to the banal practices of wishing incessantly; “may the revolution come alive, may my soul break free from the convulsions of loneliness and self sympathy…may the drudgery resulting from the endless slavery to a preposterous, ludicrous system of conformance to normality end…may I never have to lend my soul to the devil…may I never have to hypothecate my conscience at 100% margin of my sanity and conduct a legal or equitable mortgage of the very ground I stand on…how I wish to no longer be part of the line…this long line of ardent, watchful, keen faces…for their next turn into destiny…with proposals of unfulfilled desires and strategic maps of dubious shortcuts within their minds…how I wish to step out and away form this rat race…”

If this wish comes true…who will I be; a silent spectator A.K.A the RAT who quit. There are no cats here, just us; perplexed mice scurrying across the face of time, age and life…we are chased by our own wants transformed into needs. The Media king sits aloof on his mighty pedestal….he plays a merry tune and all dance to the rhythm of their libido….lost between this world and a world that does not exist….a brilliant performance….called the ‘Rat Dance’

Someone shot the media king; perhaps it was silence and simplicity… it should have been but it wasn’t all over the papers yesterday…the papers were no more…there were no posters and no advertisements. The crowd turned senile….it could not survive outside the media bubble anymore…it needed the vanity, like air to breathe and survive….

I must go now….for I can see that the trance is coming to an end and this euphoria of rebellion and bitterness instigated by the intricate complexities of technology and industrialization is dissipating. The fit of madness is over…back to so called reality…shall be back some other day…some other time





Copyright © Euphoria ... [ 2002-08-30 06:54:49]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: The Diary of Isabelle Christina (User Rating: 1 )
by Jackee_line on Wednesday, 4th December 2002 @ 06:38:00 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
a fine write
well written




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