Kinetic Psyche

Just as one may wish to maintain some form of mental silence
One may also wish the boost their mental noise
Here on this planet we see heaps of political dung
Living among the sheep, the Shepherd and the sheepdog

Call it what you will, egregious human
Defend it with all might you have, and willpower
As a house of cards can get torn to shambles with a sneeze
So too will the foundation of all that is shit crumble beneath lies

The noise I hear in my own head is chaotic, but ordered
I know what I want, and wish, and desire for the future
I know what is good and bad and disgusting for the populace
And nothing coming from the apex of the hierarchy will benefit us

You great mighty pool of sewage, walking around with a smile
Kiss your family on that TV and pretend to defend our culture
Line your ever-fattening wallet with the taxes of our hard work
Destroy your state with illegal laws of stupidity and disheveled perspective

Ill will settled in the mind of the ventriloquist
The puppet has no mind of its own– it is controlled with string
Maintaining all of the highest rates of idiocy and backed by zero logic
Using money to maintain a false sense of harmony

Esoteric in Definitive Existence

I am surprisingly unmotivated to write these days. Many people close to me throughout my life, to some extent, has said that I write very well. That is to say, from the time I was in grammar school, I possessed a unique quality of mastering English for the age I was (I forget now when, but perhaps around second grade– yes, it was second grade. I remember the teacher making comments on my writing now that I think back). Unfortunately, I do not remember what I had written, and this piece of personal literature was not suspended in a suitable catalyst for the purposes of preservation back then. It must not have mattered much, anyhow.

But, the problem I have is simply this: I was recently watching these videos on TEDx Talks on YouTube, and one woman in particular had an attention-grabbing headline to a speech she gave regarding the typical human’s capacity to sustain a particular career choice with relative ease, and how they differ from her. She used a not-very-well-known (in fact, perhaps as of yet unheard of) idiom to describe such individuals. It was “multipotentialites.” Broken down into three roots, “multi-” is obvious, as it refers to many. “Potential” is a bit more obfuscatory, yet simultaneously directly descriptive term. And “-ite,” meaning that people who relate to the combined two prior subsections of the word (ex: Mennonite). To conclude this ever-growing paragraph, and to somewhat summarize her video, it means “people who do not belong to the applied norm of societal expectations.”

What do I mean by that? I mean, people like myself. I’m a severe case of this multipotentialite personality. Over time, I’ve become somewhat of a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to random trivial information. One of the few things I have been able to consistently do without boring myself after a few months would happen to be writing. I’ve never really been able to sit down and write a book because– well, that takes time. I like to try to master [read: learn]  things quickly and efficiently, but plopping down and coming up with something breath-taking for readers to behold is something which, in theory, is quite simple; but it’s also exceedingly difficult to do because I always block myself with random questions about suitable subject matter [read: no creative endeavor]. I always try to make things sound textbook-ish, which is boring. Who wants to read something that sounds like it came from a college reading requirement? I know of zero people who ever would.

But then, I also sit down to think about WHAT to write, only to become distracted for a few weeks, and then the entire thing is lost in my endless thoughts about life in general. I think this multipotentialite thing is the closest description to ADHD, sans medical terminology. I’m even distracted for an hour (which has happened since I started this article) and can lose my train of thought, as well as the entire point of my message. I then attempt to become motivated to write, then I start (similarly to how you would see my posts here on WordPress begin, and end), and then that’s the end of the thing I was writing. I don’t have to worry about thinking about it for a very long time once I have published my random article.

During which I sit down and start reading random articles (recently, cast iron and entrepreneurship and bacon), browse the internet to learn anything and everything I can about what it is I’m reading… Some of you know what this type of psychological slavery feels like. Some of us know how to harness the power of this condition of existence. I am not one of these people. I have a steady job (for how long, I do not yet know, as I am still within the probationary period) but I have quickly become bored with that too. But to pay bills, yeah, I must keep it. I bore so easily after such a short time frame, and it is confusing, irritating, and above all, one of the other things with has remained as a constant to my otherwise hectic mind and wild thoughts.

I’ve tried meditation, handwriting three pages of random notes a day for a few months to boost my creativity, read about quantum theory and quantum physics knowing full well that my mathematical understanding is capped at basic algebra, looked at multiple videos on Vsauce to kind of glimpse at the scientific perspective of the universe (and learned quite a lot), and multitudes of other things to read and learn between actually posting. I rarely ever type during these periods except to enter search terms. In other words, I bore VERY QUICKLY of everything.

In this video I’ll be linking shortly, the woman about whom I am writing expresses her ideas and explanations regarding multipotentialite characteristics. It makes sense, because I believe that a good portion of college dropouts simply couldn’t stay in school because of this condition of existence. Here it is. Make sure to consider someone that you think is weird who just might have these qualities. You never know if they’re just bored to death or otherwise just feeling s if they’re trying to fit in where they don’t belong.

It’s helpful to know that there are people out there who are actually making strides in their fields to explain certain personality types. The DSM-IV can only explain so much from a third-person perspective. The world from the first person perspective is vastly greater than the sum of all literary parts, and this is something that is far more difficult to describe than one may think. In a way, though, it could be just over-thinking which is getting in the way of practically everything.

I’ve spent upwards of approximately three to five months studying something in the greatest depth, to learn every aspect of the very thing. After a while, I’ve become somewhat decent at it, and so my learning curve is usually good enough to prevent me from being hopelessly incompetent in that field, even if it is something I’ll never do partly or fully in my life, or read about ever again. That is probably a curse as much as a gift, to read nearly infinitely or perpetually to just have the information and basic skill tucked away into the reserves of my memory. I mean, it is true that I can utilize my skills quite well when I have the motivation to do so. I still have a difficult time sustaining that skill for a period of time without becoming severely bored. The last couple things I wrote here, I had someone respond, inviting me to write out posts for a forum which he is a part of. I never did visit that site, because I left to do something else. I miss out on opportunities.

I think that, if I were to actually focus for long enough on mastering writing, I should put it toward poetry for the specific utilization as lyrics for heavy metal bands. Some of the greatest lyricists I can think of are in Cradle of Filth, Woods of Ypres, and Dimmu Borgir. Some dark, fantastic stories of demons, witches, and bloodletting; sad songs of mourning and death… These are the subjects most worthy of my time. It’s not as if I have let everything else go, no… I can’t say I’m devoid of practically every other feeling within the spectrum of human emotion. I also feel rage and anger, jealousy, sadness, happiness, pure enjoyment and appreciation, relaxation, love, hunger, motivation and demotivation. I prefer to concentrate of heavy metal as my choice of music because it is, in my opinion, likened to what hippies were to acid rock. It is the new socio-political platform.

I suppose it is just blabber-mouthing at this point of the article. I feel as if I have reached the climactic point of my story here already, and now there’s nothing left to say. There is always much more to tell, that is true. There is always more to say after the semicolon has been added. Each time I write something, it is recorded somewhere, and there it will remain until it is dug out of the deepest of the caverns of electrons that is the internet, cloud, or whatever else technology may have in the years to come. But as to adding anything relevant to this article, I must say that it is time for me to sequester from any further explanation of anything here. Good night to you.

Death Is Too Good For the Wicked

Exacting justice
Upon the wicked
Is still satisfying
Even if they’re human
On the outside…

The inside is necrotic flesh
A spirit robbed of any light–
Hopeless, filled with cyanide
Lifelike as only a marionette can be

False in the ways
Of justice
Served out only on dried tree’s corpses
Indelible ink through osmosis
Writ in patterns
To make codes
And defended with equal wooden puppets

Sink into the skin, thou wretched spear
Grave to be thy next home
Hermit
Ye twisted mind, thine crooked smile
Thou look’st upon me
As only Medusa could have

Though not so cursed in thy stare
Thy vile and foul ways be set in stone
And without reasonable purpose
Thou still breathe, a liar art thee
The devil on thy hands and in thine eyes
Thy love affair with Death
Damned as only the Darkness can be

The ink hath dried now
The quill art in resting place
The deed indeed done
Hath changed thy destiny
For imprisonment evermore
Now await thee
No death simple nor gruesome
Shall free thou from thy flesh
Doomed as any wrongdoer hath been

Do thou now
Eat the fecal matter, swallow
Sink into thy belly
Let poison fill thine veins
Let ye sneeze the liquid dung
Drink it again
As only a grim doomed spirit e’er did