Friday, December 15, 2006

Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Your face is all swollen, your eyes are painted red and your beard is already three days old. You look as though you haven't had a proper sleep; as though you've drunk relentlessly and that too as though in vengeance; and now that it will only take medicines and good humour to put you to the good sleep. You look as though the boy in you has died and your face is a mourning funeral of your childhood. You seem that you suffer for no reason and as though you return from a thousand years of exile.
Your crime like all other crimes has made justice see yet another glimpse of how the world is so impossibly filled with wrong. You have done what no man -- or woman, but they don't do things wrong -- has committed. But for that we shall not make another Christ out of you. We will certainly kill you and make sure that history never remembers you -- all that you've written shall now be printed and stuffed down your threat. Your eyes will also be used for an experiment. They will turn it into the jelly and introduce a 'crazy ball' for young children to throw in and around. We believe that the society will finally breathe respite knowing that in someway you've contributed something to others.
Your crime! Where exactly are the files where they've listed them all out? Let me explain to you kind and close-minded society that the 'poet' has to die. He has to die and along with him will die the centuries of hyprocrisy that has so loosely meandered. For he has done that sin that no other sin could or would cure and make life simpler. He has wronged the entire establishment and the Ministry of Truth is looking into it very carefully.
The 'poet' writes not clearly, he has to die. We have had to change and turn his lines. His words and his sentences don't match our incredible understanding of the language. His words are rotten and old; insincere and wrong. There is no one way that we can allow lines like that to prevail and florish. The cause of all cause, you readers the misery that we would no longer dare to associate -- the 'poet' has to die, the 'poet' has to die.


Blogger InExile said...

remember the complete video of the wall here roger watrs is living in that lame room when it starts and then he throws out the tv and breaks out the wall !!
this is what this post reminds me of !

5:15 PM, December 15, 2006  
Blogger jerry said...

Dude the movie tripped me out. Before me, my dad actually. I'm glad its of something. heh...ya i remember the portion, somewhere around Hey You and Comfortably Numb, right?

5:19 PM, December 15, 2006  
Blogger steppenwolf said...

the poet has to die.that reminds me of the hours.'the poet will die, the visionary.'such a haunting and beautiful movie.

6:44 PM, December 15, 2006  
Blogger steppenwolf said...

Mine too.damn.what a movie.the music.the sadness.dying with a stone in your pocket.the bird scene.the ‘ crazy people like to be asked too’.heh.i cant stop talking abt hours once I start. Me studying mostly, and gives me enough reasons to whine.what abt you?

7:35 PM, December 15, 2006  
Blogger steppenwolf said...

heh.u really had me worried :).great.its nice to be the small world that this is.and nw i really must get back to reformation :( tc.

8:53 PM, December 15, 2006  
Blogger The Dude said...

Whoah! intense much my man?

"The artist like the insane sits on the edge and the slightest nudge can send him over."

4:11 PM, December 16, 2006  
Blogger Surly Girl In The Corner said...

Yes such a small-small world Jerry. Your posts look so enticing but I am in Hyderabad eating biriyani. When I get back to Delhi you will be inundated with comments.

3:09 PM, December 22, 2006  

Post a Comment

<< Home

html hit counter
Download html hit counter code for your website.