Angry. Fourfold. Compare yourself to the greatest, are you greatness? If I presume it, I am not, rotting. Tipsy, frosty world, rooms shaking. To be great means not to dwell on what's a cliché but what's worthy not of prizes but of honest causes. Humility should come before a prize, but it doesn’t! Values underrated. The fuzzy line between honor, truth, clarity has been broken in favor of homelessness. Senseless. The ire spreads in silent bills, ignored but more present than a breath untold. We are told to forget distress in a shopping cart, we comply. That’s what we’ve trained to do best, commerce is prior to life. What can be done if we are trapped in a procession toward a vacuous possession? The finale renewed, shows continued, the end of a set is designed to replace old desires with new ones. We are trapped in a tapping against a glass floor. The tap tap is meant for me to fall hypnotic enough to ignore the lack of fulfillment. True liberty is not a fan of choices but an approximation to an openness near mia dulce casa. The closer you are to homelessness, the bleaker your future will feel. You’ll drown in choices set for you. You'll tumble unable to freechoice. We are homeless while fake idols close deals beside of our whipped backs, ignorance does not forgive consequences. To live for change of channel, a remote control with no numbers, only two symbols and an unfulfilled promise, is death. We fought for choices, it's ironic we only have two, three, a few more but where’s fulfillment? Tap tap. We have been so focused on attaining enlightenment, freedom to choose, that we mistook the eerie tap tap for a natural noise. We ignored that the tap tap denies us what is more important than having a pair of choices: the unlimited abundance hidden in our chaotic complexity. The creative explosion where justice hasn’t yet been formed, but where truth is allowed to live to shine a path for justice to follow. If we could realize that the tap tap is not what we really want, would you stop tapping to distract your self from the lack of fulfillment? Would I stop the tapping in time to feel there's anger under apathy? Tap tap, hypnotic ignorance, tap tap, tap, I vow to wake up after one last tap, TAP, TAP, TAP, T.A.P. The dance feels so mighty, enthralled we get to forget some anxious moans. It is the instantaneous, infectious tap, a tap for a tap, the choice to tap tap, an infinite scroll toward a nothingness that eats us alive. Second after second, we empty our sand clock for the freedom to tap. Will we say it's enough? Will I choose to stop tapping? Will I decide to free myself from those alienating desires? Do I possess the ability to stop the tap tap or has my apathy sold my fulfillment for a bleak future? Tap tap. I’m losing faith as the GREAT tap tap as much as us. They even deny there’s a tapping going on to protect the gates from us. In this tipsy, frosty, risky world, I hear the grass cracking but do you? It's a bitter window, shattered. Oh dear, don’t tap tap while barefoot. I hope I can hear before the glass floor C R A C K S . . .
“Instead of framing new words, I recommend to you any kind of artful management by which you may be able to give a new air and cast to old ones” [1. From the Notes to Ars Poetica by Horace added by Ricard Hurd, p. 50.]
Don’t judge the quality of another based on merely postmodernist rules. We need to go back to the past to construct a more creative future than the one we have been given. Read my post, How to break patterns like Shakespeare?, to understand what I mean.