Just a little poetry. Inspired by every stupid fucking dating show on VH1, MTV, etc. etc. Actually, inspired by every person who thinks their in love, but really only love themselves.
Love is dead.
Left raped and bruised.
Used and abandoned.
With no life left in her ethereal being,
her energy, siphoned by the masses.
Yet even in death, there is beauty.
For the advancement of the few,
Love was taken and trapped.
And an elaborate plan put into action.
Phase one, dispose of the hostage.
Two, insert a pawn
Three, the final stage
Destroy the image of Love.
This transformation was easy
She was turned into a word
A series of symbols, void of real meaning.
The to alienate people from her touch
Social archetypes and petty differences.
They need little outside help.
And last, make Love a quick fuck
Dirty her name, and pimp her to the high schools.
But there was a crack in the wall.
Some written clues had escaped the clean-up
And the tracks were being uncovered
The pawn had a strange birth certificate
For some reason, Love's name read Lust.
Now, we return to the present
The shocking secret, now common knowledge
The tranquility is grotesque.
No smoke mixing with the sunrise
No angry mobs flooding the streets
It's the machines time to fall, but where's the rage?
Instead, Dr. Phil counsels on parenting
To a nation where half of us divorce
Somewhere, something is not right.
Now her broken body is gone
Every last fiber devoured by maggots
But there is an imprint left in the soil.
Love, the fair lady, can never truly die
Finding her, is still an arduous task
She asks that you give everything up
Forget yourself, and you will find her.
โEgo is a structure that is erected by a neurotic individual who is a member of a neurotic culture against the facts of the matter. And culture, which we put on like an overcoat, is the collectivized consensus about what sort of neurotic behaviors are acceptable.โ - Terence McKenna