Saturday, April 30, 2016

Tommy Sotomayor Is Talking Everyone Listen racism

A poem by Gary G Pelow, The Peace..

My peace of mind has been disturbed, I ruminate on the unimportant things of life as if they were of life and death, I obsess over the trivial matters of reality as if my very  life was hanging on a thread in these matters.  My mind is always racing and my thoughts are in nonstop racing mode, I am nervous and confused, my mind is infused with anxiety, I shake over the matters of useless worries.  I try desperately to slow down my mind but do not really know how to, I am shaking in fear, I am shaking in terror.  My mind is acting if I was on amphetamines, my heart is pounding and I am sweating, my blood pressure is up.  I seek to know how to not have these unwanted, intrusive thoughts, I seek to quiet my spirit and soul, I am in a state of anxiety so bad I am vomiting, I am retching up all that is in my gut, I feel sick to my stomach from obsessions in my mind, I am alone in these thoughts of confusion and frustration, I do not know what to do, I wish I could die but will never commit suicide, I have not the balls for that, I just want to fucking scream at people to help me but I remain silent in my terror, I have no friends to talk to, I have no lover to confide in, being alone fuels the mind with fear and distorts my unchallenged and distorted sense of reality, there is no one around to check my perceptions with, to compare my reality to theirs to see if I am wrong in all that I perceive to be true and might not be real.  I may be swimming in psychosis or just being wrong and not even know it, there is no one to ask.   I wish my mind would slow down, I wish my spirit would settle, I am trying hard to cope and I want to run away but I can not run from my own mind, I am locked into it and there is no escape from my own brain, whose neurons are firing out of control and causing all of this confusion

Thursday, April 28, 2016

A poem by Gary G Pelow, The Sun.

The Sun, a star, one of trillions, one of many different kinds, not very special scientifically, not unique at all, yet it is.  So far as this is written, this Sun is the only one known to give life, both physical and intelligent, it is unique because our star, the Sun has living neighbors it helped create, neighbors who have learned to worship it and later, study and examine it, worshiping it no longer makes any sense.  However for me, the Sun brings sanity on the days when I thought I had  lost it on gloomy dark days spent in psychotic depression, confusion, and anxiety and psychosis in general. Winter has just ended for 2016, It was very bad for me in terms of emotion and thought, I have felt like my sanity was cracking, falling apart, the Sun would change that, my clarity would return with bright sunrise after being ripped away by clouds.  Light. It can have an almost magical effect on my mind and even my brain,  whether if they are 2 different things or not.  That is a philosophical question for another time and place, right now the Sun is out in the sky in Rochester, NY, a not so common event  in this city, we are often dark and gray here, unlike, say, California and  Hawaii , I have been to both places, they are both bright and clear much of the time and most of the year, but I would not live in either place, because in these two places you have to pay for all that sunlight, in California you pay in the currency of drought and wild mountainside brush fires that destroy property and force water to be rationed, in Hawaii you pay in hurricanes and volcanoes.  Rochester has less of the Sun, but for that reason I appreciate it more, my moods both depend on it and at the same time at its mercy, but again, I appreciate it more, something uncommon must be cherished more.      

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Systemic Hair Racism

A poem by Gary G Pelow, Urges.

I have the urges, the addictions, the cravings for things and people outside of myself, I burn like fire to try to find happiness and peace of mind and soul in those things that are outside of myself.  These addictions and cravings do not deliver on their false promises and hopes of serenity and joy, the external things, sex, drugs, booze, nicotine, food, all fail to deliver.  I am afraid though to let go of them, I am use to them now, I have been for decades now, I do not know how to leave these abusive relationships with these things, the thought of leaving them behind forever frightens me. I am constantly running to these cravings like a man or woman runs back to a physically violent and abusive romantic partner or spouse, there is no logic in it.  I think people are drawn back to what they already know, they return to danger because danger has always been with them.  I know all the facts about these dangers, sex and AIDS and STDs, booze and liver failure, nicotine and cancer, drugs and withdrawal, food and obesity.  Jesus fucking Christ this is hard, hard to leave behind these evil desires.  They are not evil in the God or Satan sense of evil, they are evil because of the suffering they bring to body, mind and soul, mine and others as well.  I am crushed by the weight of the idea of the pain of withdrawal, the pain of moving on to greener alleys, for new adventures of freedom and not being a slave anymore.  It is slavery, you know, as real as the slaves of the South once were.  Those slaves suffered the torture of chains, the lash and lynchings.  My enslavement is no less real, my masters threaten to punish me if I leave, I am scared to run away, I am use to slavery, I can no longer remember a time when I was not a slave, I was seven or eight years old when my addictions and cravings started, I was a slave very early on, I was reacting to abuse by hiding in addiction and compulsive distraction, it has been more than forty years of slavery, and I do not know how to break free.

Monday, April 25, 2016

A poem by Gary G Pelow, The Aftermath

There is a reason there is pain in the soul, there was abuse, a violation, there was torture, I was eight, he was a man, a man of evil, he ripped my soul apart as he violated my body, I was nearly destroyed in mind and soul, the torture has not ended in my heart, I still vomit in disgust as I relive two years of sexual cruelty and evil by an adult who is a personification of the mythical Satan or Devil, however there is no mythical Satan or Devil to blame this evil on, this evil comes from the mind of an inhuman, human monster.  This kind of evil is an evil that develops in a mind of insanity, a violent insanity.  I do not care if he himself was abused, that neither relieves my torture nor justifies or excuses it, I suffered at the hands of evil and did not become evil myself, there is no excuse for what happened to me, there is no refuge for evil to excuse itself from responsibility, there is no haven for evil.  I still get dizzy as I think about it, I still wretch in the real, bodily sense, I wretch until there is nothing left to bring up out of my gut.  I get pounding headaches, not from disease or injury, but memories of those horrible two years, I wish I could forget, I will never forgive, I am under no obligation to do so, it would not help my soul or mental health anyways.  Yes, I know I should be grateful to be alive, and I plan on staying alive, suicide would be, is, an unacceptable surrender to the memories of the torture I endured, I will not surrender to evil, past or present, I will not walk into the empty darkness forever by my own hand, I plan to die like anyone else.  So I will push on, seeking solace in friends and companions who care enough to love me, my family is not included in that group of loved ones, they are dead to me, they let this happen, I will not forgive here either, I am under no obligation to do so.

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

A poem by Gary G Pelow, Anarchy by any other name. or Stefan Molyneux

Volunteerism, another word for anarchy, for chaos, a fantasy world imagined by Stefan Molyneux that pretends that without government, we would be in a utopia of freedom and mutual cooperation, where crime would magically disappear and everyone would just get along. A world where we would not have people to build our roads, a world with no fire departments to put out fires, because in the fantasy world of anarchy and volunteerism there would be no fires to put out and the police and their guns would be unneeded because crimes of rape, murder, robbery and pedophilia would magically disappear. What a utopia that would be, a utopia of violence, crime, poverty, theft and rape, Molyneux lives in a fantasy land where he is a self described philosopher who has no credentials to be a philosopher, he is a pompous ass who has magical, childish thinking. Humans are creatures of violence and competition for resources and wealth, in this volunteerism utopia that would not change, if anything crime and violence would increase a thousand fold. Molyneux is a one dimensional thinker, someone who can not see beyond his myopic, childish disregard for the inherent violence and evil of humanity, and I say that as an atheist, evil and good do not come from God or Satan, but you and me, for we are humans, and humans are selfish, violent animals indeed, anarchy or volunteerism would not stop that, anarchy would create a desperation in the people for leadership and authority to reign in the chaos, like Adolf Hitler who united Germany out of the peoples desperation for order out of the chaos on the streets of Germany after World War One.

Saturday, April 16, 2016

A poem by Gary G Pelow, Budget

We live in a world of the budget, where the middle class has left us, no one can afford to live anymore, the thieves in China have taken everything, jobs, money, debt, our futures.  We are slaves to the East, we are indentured servants to Asia, they own our asses, and there is nothing that can be done to buy back that which was sold out from under our feet by traitors like Al Gore, George W. Bush and William Jefferson Clinton, who betrayed the USA and the constitution, we are owned by the Asians and their cohorts, the international banking system, we in the United States are slaves to the Globalists, those who seek a one world government to destroy our nation in the name of world peace and cooperation, the true goal being worldwide dictatorship and genocide against the weak and powerless.  The West is under siege, the Muslims and blacks from the Middle East and Africa are laying waste to Europe and an invasion against Western Civilization has begun and is underway, Soon Europe will not be Europe, at least not in its present form, the New Europe will be Islamic and brown, devoid of reason and civility, replaced by Arab and African barbarism of rape, murder and pedophilia, these filthy child rapists, and yet the West welcomes these savages with open arms and open purses, we pay for our own destruction, paying for and hosting families of these filthy savages from afar.  I look at the future and I am glad I have had no children to live this fatal future, yet others in the West do have offspring, offspring with a terrible future of rape, murder, theft,assault, riots, bombings, Islamic dictatorship and other horrors that await western youth.  If the West is pushed to far, the far right of fascism will spread as a backlash against these filthy liberals who have made this happen, so when the unwanted, next Adolf Hitler or Mussolini rises in the West, blame yourselves.

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

A poem by Gary G Pelow, Black Lives Matter.

There is a force arising in the name of blacks and African Americans that is a lie, born of frustration but also of political ideology and violence, a movement of lies.  The narrative is that white cops are violent, evil ogres out to kill all black people and of color, so arrives our heroes of this story to save black people from the evil white police and white people in general whose lives apparently do not matter  Our hero is a movement, Black Lives Matter, vowing to vanquish the evil foe of black people in America, evil, white police officers, the idea in the minds of our heroes is that they have the moral ground in valuing the lives of black people in the United States and it is their scared duty to protect those lives, protect them from cops, police abuse and white institutional racism, after all white cops are all murderers and only blacks get killed by police officers in the good old USA, never white people, just blacks, this movement feels no moral problem with using political violence and terrorism and riots to save black lives, after all Black Lives Matter is a morally superior group of heroic activists out to slay a dragon out to kill African Americans.  But wait, what about the pink dragon in the room no one in the Black Lives Matter Movement wants to see?  This is the dragon of black on black violence in the USA and the dragon of the truth that most blacks die at the hands of blacks and blacks commit a disproportionate amount of violent crime that puts them at odds with the police in the first place. When a drive by shooting takes place and in that attack a young black man dies as a target of other young black men and a seven year old black girl is killed by a stray bullet during the same attack, where are Black Lives Matter protesters and activists? They are on the beach with their heads in the sand spouting racist, fascist Marxist nonsense, while black people die by the tens of thousands, apparently those black lives do not matter when ended by other black people.

Monday, April 11, 2016

A poem by Gary G Pelow, Dull

I am dull, I have no bright colors, my personality is flat, I have no flare.  I seek excitement in sex, food and music to hide the disgust I have for my own tedium.  I am banal, I inspire nothing that is interesting, engaging or exciting, I am a bore, I tire of myself very easily and I am disgusted by it, and of myself.  No woman wants to be with a bore of a man,, they want excitement, they want machismo, which I do not possess, I am like a dead puppy, no longer active and hopeless to revive, my personality is an annoyance to other people, they are irritated by my physical presence when I am in their vicinity.  I sit alone, typing this drivel, as if someone actually wants to read it, I type in vain hopes of getting attention from anyone, even strangers. I am what they call an attention whore, I would sell my soul for recognition if I had one to sell.  My head hurts, the pain is made more pronounce by the complete lack of anything interesting in myself to distract me from the pain in my head, or any other pain and discomfort I may feel in my body.  It is grey outside, raining, damp, wet, dull, like me.  I do not wish to hate myself so, but I do, my self contempt is full and strong and I have no one to share the misery and feces that I wallow in.  There is nothing to do, I am restless, jumpy, nervous, which is not the same thing as excitement or interest, the restlessness can be blamed on my own dull inability to think of things to occupy my time, I hate people, they hate me.  When I am active I am always alone, devoid of friends or even people I know only casually, I am alone as always, drowning in self pity and an ocean of cold blandness, if only it were a real ocean, I would stop swimming just to drown.

Saturday, April 9, 2016

A poem by Gary G Pelow, The Feminist

Bell hooks, Clementine Ford, Rebecca Watson, enemies of freedom, enemies of free speech and expression, they are liars, they seek no equality among any groups, they seek domination and fascism, they seek Social Marxism, where all former oppressors become the oppressed, they seek to marginalize those they do not like or care about, their goal is not social justice but social control, they seek a dictatorship of oppressing the oppressor that would seek not justice, but revenge. This dictatorship of fascist social progressives would be violent and genocidal, as  all fascist or Marxist governments always are, to kill people who oppose them or using violence to quiet their opponents, these tactics have already begun. Professor Click and her muscle brigade on a college campus have shown the true colors of the social justice crowd and its feminist allies.  The Rebecca Watsons of the world seek to humiliate and shame their critics into silence, as she tried to do with me, a white male opponent who she hates and fears, not fear from physical attack, but she fears being exposed for the fraud she is, as are the likes of bell hooks and Clementine Ford, their goal is to silence freedom, to destroy their political and social opponents both by legal and ultimately illegal tactics of fear and intimidation through oppressive laws and social policies covered in the cloak of equality but really based in fascism. There is no equality in a fascist state other than equality of those who are killed with equal fervor by a fascist state, a state that social justice warriors want to establish to enslave their opponents they do not like, they do not want equality for women or anyone else, they seek their own hegemony and absolute power over western civilization and the destruction of liberalism and freedom of expression.   These are ominous times indeed, as the internet grows and the online marketplace of ideas expands, let us hope that the freedom of online speech will ultimately expose and show the nature of the regressive left, they can not censor the entire internet, they will never be able to do so, the marketplace is to large and diffuse.  Their Nazi like ideology will be exposed, and is being exposed, for all to see.  

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

A poem by Gary G Pelow,, On Fire.

I am on fire, my imagination burns out of control, I see enemies everywhere, I do not know who to trust.  Is that red pickup truck following me? Are there unseen enemies behind its darkened, tinted glass?  I am afraid, I do not know what is real or what is the psychotic ramblings of my mind, I struggle to tell the difference between the two, Is that person over there on their cell phone talking about me to my enemies? Or am I wrong for thinking so? I do not know what to do, I do not know reality anymore, if I ever could in the past, my mind is feverish with raw terror and agitation.  Are my two roommates talking about me? Laughing at me? Are they plotting against me? I do not know, I can not tell.  My body is wracked with tremors of paranoia and delusions, I am a person disconnected from humanity, who I want to rejoin, but I can not seem to accomplish this, I am lost to a spinning world of fantasy, or nightmares. I try not to think and feel this way, it is hard to cope these days, I am no danger to anyone, not even myself, but I feel horrible and trapped in a prison of emotion and broken logic, logic is no longer in me.  I try to go out to talk to my friends, such as they are, and it is difficult to walk through the door to go outside, lest my enemies follow me and plot against me, these terrible, fake phantoms of Schizophrenia.  I will be going to the doctor soon, in two weeks, I will discuss with her my terrible, empty world of barren isolation, she will prescribe something and I will take it, if it does any good, I suppose with out it things would be worse, an even stronger world of fever and terror, I only exist, I do not live, I do not know how.