Archive for the ‘Existence’ Tag

God Save America

Me and my fellow murderers, psychopaths, hate mongers,

deranged fantasists and obscene attention seekers able to count

on self-fulfilling media coverage, wish to thank the NRA for their

unwavering support, allowing us to live our dreams and defend

ourselves against despicable monsters like fellow students, toddlers,

Catholics, Jews, Blacks, Latinos, or in general people with an accent,

or people who are brighter, work harder, have more success, and all

those others whose face we cannot stand.

 

Because the NRA understands that the gun is our brain, just like it is theirs,

especially the semi-automatic one. And that no regulation will stop us, for as

long as we can just borrow one, except when the oppressor cleverly bans

not the gun, but the bullet. In which case I guarantee you bullet trafficking will

outdo drug trafficking within months.

 

With the NRA’s unconditional support we have averaged the elimination of

30.000 enemies a year, over the past decade. But with help and devotion

there is no reason we cannot vastly improve on this number.

 

So God bless the morally corrupt and certifiably insane, because we have

what it takes.

 

Testimonial signed and agreed on between

 

Anthony Steyning & pals

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Letter To My Son

 

Hi Kek,

 

Hey it’s your damn birthday soon again, will you slow down please,

you’re going much too fast to my taste?!

Anyway, son, you’re a terrific human being and I hope you’ll have a long

and happy life on this earth.

Unlike me, always in doubt, like when people ask me about my four footer

and I have to figure out if they’re referring to my dog, the putt I made on

hole 14, or my dick.

 

Love yah,

Dad

 

 

Only on Earth

 

We shouldn’t cry

when someone dear and near

passes away,

if we believe in heaven

and eternal sanctity

 

 

 

We should cry

when losing the lot,

our crust, our roof, our breath,

in the process

gaining cruel pain and terror,

 ‘heaven’, despite its hopeful beckoning,

deciding to come crashing down on us

 

 

We shouldn’t cry

when a total stranger

extends a  sudden, loving act

of helpfulness

to us

 

 

 

But we do!

Don’t we?

Not only because of its extreme beauty,

but because of its ridiculous,

its utter

 

 

rarity

 

 

 

The Great Kalashnikov

Rampant life, kills life. The food chain cleans up and controls the numbers.

Humans escaped the food chain by the evolution of their wits and have only viruses, and related or unrelated diseases to deal with.

Plus car, train and plane accidents, and the Assad and Himmler method of population control, of course.

Conquest!

Look at the lion and his magnificent manes, his wives plain Janes and nothing to lose sleep over. Look at the male peacock and his fantastic crop, plumes and dancing feet, his lovers ugly as sin. Look at the buck and his enormous antlers, his amours only differentiated by the variety of white targets painted around their ass.  

 

Now look at humans and a different scenario. She doing all the action, forever dolled up, painted, rinsed, pedicured, manicured or worse. Seducing, wiggling, smiling, out to conquer mainly ugly ‘hims’ endowed with attitude and cash.

 

And then there’s me, no plumes, no manes, no antlers, no moolah.

 

Who am I going to get except if I’m lucky, a blind nymphomaniac who hopefully owns a liquor store?

 

Download Anthony Steyning’s epic new Enovel: A Kiss by the Clowns

 

 

Of Nostalgia!

Remembrance of Things Past is a lousy translation of Proust’s A la Recherche du Temps Perdu in that all things remembered are in the past, making this is a tautology. In Search of Lost Time is only slightly better as search and loss are mutually implied and ‘lost time’ sounds like a factory malfunction. The latter also has no rhythmic quality whatsoever, and why I would settle for the simple Of Days Time Forgot!

 

Download Anthony Steyning’s delicious new E-Novel: A Kiss by the Clowns

Two Cats To Go

If a cat has 9 lives

And I had 7 cats,

It may be said that I had 63 lives inside my own

With which to do whatever what.

 

None to impose, but a few to waste perhaps,

The hours of dolce-far-niente, of contemplation,

But also of frustration,

In which pain real and imagined, wouldn’t, couldn’t stop.

 

But here I am, 2 cats to go, and still discovering, hoping.

For more cats and for far fewer of us,

The doors of paradise

Slightly more open.

 

Download Anthony Steyning’s poetic new E-novel: A Kiss by the Clowns

Self-Esteem? Wazzat?

-What ultimately saves everyone from fanatics is that they’re so tragically stupid.

-Fanatics are deeply unhappy people, religion their only and last straw. I mean, look at the life they come home with every night!

Or

-What if searing inferiority, is not a complex?

Why?

The dim-witted never give death a second thought. It or le mal-d’être, strictly speaking the condition of suffering from your own intelligence. The agony it sometimes creates, the anxiety of it. For better or worse, the ability to recognize yourself in the mirror of animate existence. Cognition commotes, doesn’t it?

Melancholy

Life needs a sun and a ‘live’ volcanic planet circling it. Between those hearths a third force gets played out and that is us. We’re the flame in the pan, that wild dance of the universe, together with our friends the plants and all those other bizarre animals, a ball too crazy, too magnificent to end. Until the fires die, perhaps to spring up elsewhere in that long, long night… but looking down and despite certain scientific advances on one level, what a frighteningly primitive and destructive lot we have remained.

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