God ~blogs admin ~'s Blog (83)

Stand up, be quiet.

Sit down, be quiet.

Do your work, be quiet,

Care what people think.

You need to care what people think.

You can't look after yourself, the way you view the world is different.

You can't think normally, you'll forever need help, because you're different.

Care what clothes you wear, you need to worry about what people think.

Care whether or not the colors match, if not, what will people…

I laugh at god as I may,

I care not fer what'd tha' coofs say.

How dare ye mock our god above,

ye feckin' heathen will be cooked and bathed in demons blood.

Fer god is kind an' kind is good,

away ye heathen befere ye upset…

Reality is but a fickle thing,

something we're taught to desperately cling.

But who's to say who is right,

which reality is that you chose to fight?

For some have dreams so vivid and fair,

others are caught in their own mindful of vile despair. 

People dream of worlds a'new,

others dream where war is known to but a few.

People…

Whence one catches power in a titans grip,

that same power will slowly seep and slowly slip.

For with fear power nie can ever be bought,

one may only gain said power after ones been furthermorely taught.

For how can the man that sits in riches and thy yonder sky,

wish to command the poorly soul that sits lowly and painfully dies?

You may teach the man to fear the…

hen I approach the subject of ones belief, I find myself gritting ones teeth. For to hear of stories of old and new, to learn that all thanks to a bearded Jew, I'll be saved and you will be too! Makes you wonder if it's true, everything they say about that one lonely Jew..



The Jews themselves said it's not for us, we'll take no part in ths Christian buzz. For we are true to our most holy faith, to shun it now would be such a disgrace! So here we have religions' two,…

It had been a foggy morning, cold as the fright, yet no one moved. Only the prince gave flight. Upon the Moore he stood and watched, until the last had fallen, having all worked mechanically like a doomed clock.  They say he ran for the hills, high above the land. Yet one things for sure, he didn't give a damn. As he ran, away from certain death, his poor followers, drew their last shaky breathes. 

The red coats marched up and down, butchering those who lay dying…

Say you that we're not ape, that we didn't evolve and science is all a mistake? Say you that we are divine, bred for the almighty who's forever sublime? Say you that war is our making, that no god is above simply forsaking. Forsaking the calls of the poor, the diseased and dying, forsaking the children who'll keep continually crying. Crying for food, for water and the end of the godless slaughter.



Say you still that we're divine, that we show no beastly traits in our…

As the pages continue to turn, as the sun still bravely burns. We turn away from what we've known, we part from the people we once were sown. To look for our future our way, to finally have a voice and our very own say. We part from all that we've come to know, but surely we knew that we must at one point go. Some will cry for fear, for joy. Some will act brave, but beneath they know, they're simply being coy. 

From friends to foes, we have to go. Everyone has had…

What is freedom one might say, we might agree on some aspects whilst on others we say nay. The freedom to choose where we lay our heads, the freedom to choose what food we're constantly fed. The freedom to gain greatness, be it through talent or trick. The freedom to rise stronger, from whence you were sick. The freedom to wave ones appointed flag, forgetting blind support is ultimately bad. 

So it's the call of freedom I hear called from my land, the echoing…

To those who would damn me to hell, weave a curse or that a spell. To those who'd forget my name, and wish nothing on my 'soul' but ever lasting pain. To those who say I'm doomed, that my crypt will be my ever lasting tomb. To those who damn me for using my ears, know that you bring only spiteful tears. 

Do they know my only want? That I am wrong, and I'll soon have the answer that I sought. For I believed as they believe today, I simply heard no answer whence I…

To this god on high above, who swears he offers nothing but love. To this god who's murdered man, destroyed his dreams, destroyed his plans. To this god who took a child, and committed acts which are cruel and vile. To this god who swears he's kind, why does he wish his followers were so blind? Why must I go on my knee, simply so I can crawl whilst I follow thee? Why do you demand simple blind faith, is it because you're a foul and sick wrath? 

For man suffered…

The inability to switch off is quite a curse, the fact that it's quarter to four  makes it far much worse. To always be thinking, to always be contemplating, if I believed in fairy tales I'd say its the work of Satan. But alas, here I am, and here I shall seemingly stay, for the enjoyment which dreams hold are but always too far away. Must I take a pill? Is that the only way my eyes and mind will, for a moment; be still? 

Some wish for ever lasting life, yet they…

Life is such a fickle thing, one might even consider it a punishment for some ungodly crime. Those rich and powerful, who are they to complain, they've never had to play this wickedest of games. Whilst the poor and beaten and often mistreated suffer beyond compare, but the majority, oh the majority simply sit on by with a blank stare.

It takes a day, dedicated to fighting this fray, for them to even have the slightest of says. Red nose day for one, is nothing but…

The was sun slowly falling, upon the misty glen, when out of the darkness came a figure that the devil would surely only send. A red coat slung across his shoulder, a  musket upon his side, with a troop he came marching, as if he were  one of many boulders upon this sickening  tide. 

It was this troop the child saw, and fear gripped her heart, these bastards had butcher her father, but that was surely just the start. With torches a'flame they approached, murder…

The beauty of song shall never be forgone in all the days head. I would bow my heads to artists now, for that thought I sorely dread. For every song has a meaning, ever artists mind is busy scheming. Their words are that of thought, on which in our lives we sought. We seek meaning in places beyond, at time when all else is gone. 

For that beauty is always there, no matter how long you stare. It will slip on from the past, to paint the future just as fast. For man…

Over and far, under the crooked star the Bruce marches on his way. Many'a person will be killed, many'a a free thought will be quelled. Upon this character  weare set, upon this Scot our  countries met. Upon the racism we will sing, up his praises we will cling. We will cling to the false history of our past, forgetting the shady dealings as they are vast.

We forget we had a king, one who's praises the Bruce dared not sing.  We forget his back they gladly…

As the waves continue to crash, as the streams trickle past. As blue as the sky and silent there, like many lost sailors prayer. For there's one thing man will never conquer, never take never plunder. The sea is a harsh mistress true be this, but still many have the one same wish. The wish to sail long and free, to feel the wind slips past thee. To watch the sun settle on the ocean blue, to watch the stars dance on by you. 

To enjoy the pace of the ever moving…