Journal

Icebergs in the Western World carve beauty into the ancient heart.

We shall reap the rewards from the battlefield of our lusts – our songs will be sung in the halls of the blind and our feats will be remembered in the minds of the deaf. Stand where others fall, sing where others cry – making music upon the ground where the masses fall. Veritas Odium Parit. Break the minds of the beautiful to find vast entrances into the greatest unknown.

Thoughts from a book I am reading...

1. The invisible man from upstairs is my problem, can’t you see?

2. Gnarled lollipop sticks are left everywhere,
they are the crucifixes of our generation…
The poet strikes his chords,
licks his vowels
and gently kisses the metal soul
with the power to inspire or destroy nations.

3. My bruises are burning
my cross is crushing
my dreams are perverting
and all hope is hiding
my life is lost.

4. Now, because our vessel is plunged into darkness, we can truly see ourselves in the faithful reflections of the light.

5. I am sorry for being such a selfish being. But I am tormented, thrown between different worlds like an unwanted child of a failed marriage. I am loose but restricted, like a person hanging from a tree: blood cold and bones fucking brittle, weather beaten, dripping with God’s spittle. I

Popping Pigs.

We endeavor to find the flow of the party
we try to slip between the bouncers like a hurricane in a waterfall
twisting up the natural torments and tormenting the naturally twisted.…

We resist the casual acquaintances because we realize that our brethren know us best.

We subsist upon the so, so, so subtle requests coming from Norway and from the East.

We kill another hundred over a week and then we blanch the most restricted senses. We go to places that Area-51 is scared of. We pretend to not understand the fit of the world.

We pretend to not make ourselves into the places and the faces that you want to see fitting into the circles and the squares like perfect puzzle pieces.

So when the challenge is finished we find ourselves sitting casually on the winning side -
contemplating our pride in th

The Impressionists put music to my poetry.

The Impressionists

The Impressionists are a new band from Sydney consisting of equal amounts of superb talent possessed by Alexander Westenberg, David Chua and Gimo Laxamana.

They ‘put music to my poetry’ so to speak. Listen to their song "Alleyways (when the night came) – it’s a song based on my poem Alleyways

Even though they recorded this in their house/bedrooms with very simple microphones I think they caught the essence and the mood of the poem beautifully in their music.

Check them out and enjoy :)

Hopefully we’ll be hearing more from them :D

Cheers,

RVR

Knowing you...

Knowing you
is like
pulling splinters
and each splinter
reminds me of the fun times we could have had.
I wish that with each pull
I knew for certain
that we would smile again…

Winter is nigh...

The cold is coming. Protect your luscious hair, your creative brain and whatever else you want with a brilliant meat hat

They are able to be heated and eaten! Mmmhmm stay warm and full this winter!

Kind regards,

A very warm and tasty,

RVR

Drunk.

After drinking some alcohol I always seem to find more mistakes in my work – mistakes that I seem to not see when I’m sober. And so I’m drinking to find more mistakes in my past – not to make any more in my future.

On the road again.

And when the wind whistles and blows through the native trees, the ocean rises up into the atmosphere, brushing through delicate leaves, and the dogs sleep and snore and dream, I bounce and shiver and shake and weep, stiff and sore but alive and young, meek to the world, soft to the caress of age and time lies within my new-shoes, and I do think, I do think of Neal Cassady. And as I read of his life from wikipedia, my computer humming a mundane tune, as if this existence is far too shallow, i do pity and ponder and perchance I may even dream about Neal and Jack. My fan cutting a cool breeze in my room, dreams of haircuts, cars, bikes, roads and girls across the USA. I wonder about the life ahead – the road ahead – where it will take me now. And I weep again in my melancholy, not knowing i…

Twenty-Ten.

(Before you start reading my letter to you, please open this up and listen to it whilst reading :D! Mumford and Sons – Awake my soul )…

Dear Bubblers,

Thank you for sharing your journey with me this year. I discovered Redbubble one day as I sat down to eat lunch – I picked up the newspaper and I saw a tiny little box that described a wonderful community and a thriving place for sharing creations – I ventured into this beautiful grove of… beauty – and I have been happy here ever since :)!

I very rarely read anything in the newspapers… So I am truly lucky that I felt inquisitive that day!

What I really want to explicate is just how important a community like the bubble is in our day-and-age. When meaning and truth is being distorted from the echelons of human governance it really spreads lik

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