Went To A Garden Party (An Existentialists Satirical Bible Interpretation)

garden

 

 
Part I
By JT Hilltop

Preface

We can’t wait until our babies can talk until they can. And damn can they talk.. Once they learn the fine art of communicating we bang our heads for not being careful what we wished for. They have an inate sense of how to easily push opur buttons with one simple word. Why! It’s an exercise in redundancy in which every answer we give evokes another why. Then they start to really ask questions. Not a question here and there but a barrage of never ending questions that like that once cute game of peek a boo has no definitive ending. “What’s oral sex Mom, why did you call that driver an ’A-hole’?”. What’s it mean when some one sticks up their middle finger Dad, is that bad? Is the ‘F‘ word bad?” And that’s just kindergarten. They wanna know everything about everything and the questions don’t stop, “Mommy, where do babies come from? Daddy, why were you moving furniture around last night?” Its just in the very fabric of our being to be inquisitive because even those unwilling to speak are curious. Inquiring mimes want to know.
Back when I was just a mere tadpole swimming around the shore burning questions festered in my head as well. I must have driven my Mom and Dad crazy with my overwhelming curiosity. “Why do I have to eat spinach? Is broccoli little tree’s? Why do I have to put the seat up after I pee?” Do spiders sleep at night?” “Who is God?” It was the last one that had Mom reeling and she handed me a black book called The Bible and said in a very earnest voice, “take this book to your father and ask him about God.”
And so I did. My dad wan’t one of those “I have to be honest with you son” types, in fact he funneled down the sex talk from my older brothers to avoid having to go one on one with me about biological urges so his bible explanation left much to be desired. Ergo, I was left to my own devices to come up with an interpretation….
Engagement Party In The Eden Room

My science teacher once told me evolution is the key to everything. Everything either evolves or it doesn’t survive. Who am I to doubt such an astute authority figure? He went on to tell me there was a time when we were all mere single celled organisms. Those were the good old days, so much more innocent than life is for humans today. Back then they didn’t even have a name for us, language hadn’t even evolved yet. Now they call us bipeds because we walk upright on two legs and use our hands to make and use tools. The original bipeds, our fellow male pig Neanderthals grew up like any other pack animals, in tribes. Each tribe or community took care of itself, gave as good as it got, hunted and gathered, and had no political affiliations all of them being progressives. They’re only purpose was to eat and fuck. Reproduction and eating kept the tribe alive. Sex was a happy accident of a survival strategy. Eating was rudimentary but make no mistake sex was the key to life. Most tribes were hunters or scavengers, either killing and eating animals, or scavenging the vegetation already here on earth. However, in an area we now call the Middle East, the so-called fertile crescent (fertile the definitive word), two tribes stood out among all others. The Aggies and The Shepherds. Both tribes had become far more advanced than any of the other tribes. These two tribes used reason and logic, figuring out a way to survive working together as a colony. It took a village. One tribe were The Aggies who learned how to manipulate the vegetation and grow it at will using soil, sun and water. They were prolific growers. The other tribe, The Shepherds, learned how to manipulate the cattle and sheep, and penned them up creating a seemingly endless supply of milks and meats. They were prolific manipulators. These two tribes habituated a very large area called the Garden of Eden. They didn’t like each other but they used their logic and reason to devise treaties and form imaginary lines they called boundaries which they agreed never to cross. So it was agreed the Aggies could live in the North Eden, and the Shepherds in South Eden. The tribes kept to themselves and all was peaceful until one seemingly insignificant incident set of a series of events that would change existence forever.
It was a beautiful late morning day in the Garden of Eden when a young male Aggie named Adam decided to take a walk in the designated forbidden area. The forbidden area was smack dab in the middle of the garden which served as a sort of buffer between the two tribes. It was chock full of colorful vegetation and small wildlife that enjoyed a life free of human domination or tricks. Both Aggies and Shepherds had agreed to never enter and allow whatever life survived within have it‘s freedom. That was their demilitarized zone, a patch of land untouched and unused by man or woman. But Adam was always an impetuous adventurous young man and snuck in to admire the beauty of the wild garden and cultivate different herbs and mushrooms in the magical place. He had created a hybrid of cannabis and special mushrooms which would one day in the future of the world play a large part in Moses having his “conversation” with God. But for now Adam kept the mind enhancers secret as he was not supposed to be in that area. In fact, no one else was either, but as it would happen, or perhaps as it was destined to happen, a female had also found solace in the forbidden garden zone.
So it was that on this one particular day everything would change forever. Adam was tending his plants in solitude when he swore he heard splashing water. Following the delicate splash sounds Adam came across a small waterhole in which a young lady was bathing in the nude. Not recognizing her from his tribe he assumed she must belong to the Shepherds. Those slightly whiter skinned people who smelled of animal shit. At first he was turned off but when he looked closely at her he noticed something strange. Aside from her large woman bumps she looked much like his own kind did only fairer in skin and hair. She had a pale complexion but much of her face was obscured by long bouncing colorless curls of thick hair. He liked the way her hair reflected the light of the sun across her face allowing only her eyes of deep turquoise which sparkled like evening stars and tiny button like nose and full lips in full view. He began to get a tingling in his loins because he found her oddly attractive and his fig leaf moved seemingly on its own. He became entranced as she bathed, water glistening off her white full breasts. The sight of her cherry nipples made his stomach a tad queasy. But not a bad queasy, a kind of happy tingling. He spied her with great delight and even began to wonder if she was like the women of Aggies in other ways. He felt that youthful familiar rising in his loins that cause men to lose control of their senses. He imagined her enjoying the pleasures of sex with him like the young women of his own tribe. He fantasized making wild unbridled passionate love to her. Considering the times perhaps it was bridled sex, but whatever, she made him hard and horny as all….. For lack of a better term, all Hell.
Adam continued tending and sampling his unusual cultivation’s but that was merely his fake excuse to return. Of course Adam had already decided he would return to cop a view everyday, have a quick toke of his and he had inadvertently created what would become the heart and soul of religion……Ritual

To Be Continued Tomorrow

Into The Fire

fire

 

The blazing fire inspires me
Flickering with authority
Perhaps it ‘s the danger
The power of its incandescence
Which commands my will
Intimidates my life blood
Entrances my inner self
The vivid burning embers
Capturing my imagination
Pleases my wishful eyes
But it’s the pluming smoke
That holds the true stories
The secrets of the flame
Reaching into my eyes
Coaxing saline droplets
Forcing thoughts upon me
Helping me remember
Things I want to forget
As I gloomily sift through
The ashes of my anguish
Hoping to erase the sad
Live and Love in Peace

Damaged Goods

damaged

 

Adrenalin rush
Wakes me from sleep
Reminds me I’m weak
Tossing and turning
Head and heart pounding
Someone’s shouting
At a loss, can’t even think
But can’t shut off my thoughts
There’s only one thing
That could unleash
That level of torture
This intense fear
My passenger is near
Snickering in jeer
Why must you always be here?
Let me be
Set me free
Its been a while
I’d hoped
You had left me
We’d never meet again
But now you’re back
Another attack
I guess its time
To talk to my old friend
So you can damage me again
I wished you had died
I wished you had died
But you’re still alive
You’re always inside
Waiting to manage
Waiting to damage
Take advantage
Because I’m damaged
Re-arranged and deranged
I’m self estranged
I wish I could kill him
Destroy the passenger
Who constantly rides me
Hides me
Derides me
Won’t let me out
I scream And shout
But no one hears
Like they don’t have ears
Can’t see my tears
Of frustration and fear
But to me its real
My inner self revealed
I just can manage
I’m damaged

Cyclops Viewing

cyclops

 

Our values get shaped and reshaped then placed into packages through environment and experience. When I was young I was taught to be biased, to prejudice my concept of people by group. As I got to know the individual people of these groups it humanized them of me and I understood that we are all in this together. I was compassionate enough to release my preconceived prejudices and appreciate instead of judging. Before that, I had the one eyed vision of Cyclops. This piece was written during a marathon of Bob Dylan tunes and other inspirational materials. The is not politics, it’s observations….

Young love blossoms
Ganymede in drag
Hanging up a chandelier
Waving proud his flag
On his way to find a home
Post Sodom and Gomorrah
Steve kicked Eve out of the garden
The asp ate all the flora
Crucified across a fence post
Laramie blue of scarlet rain
Choked on predispositions
Same old line of shit again
They’re an abomination
Some asexual mutation
Dad denied and mama cried’
The day their precious daughter died
Sundays book is full of lies
And rainbows all desert the skies
Pius brutality would fit the bill
If idols of Gethsemane are ill
Even God can’t pay the bills
Mobs of stereotyping kills
What fuck are we to do?
Call on Cyclops dressed in blue
Now dig this

It’s murder by stereotype once justice shuts her eyes
Lost in Half Moon harbor floating on a sea of lies
The island of acceptance is now sinking in its shame
No one to protect the huddled masses lost without a name
One black sheep went out to graze
In a concrete field of dreams
Dressed up like an evening shadow
But he hasn’t got the means
To live inside the gates elite
Where snowmen dress in suits
Only reason sheep go there
Is for criminal pursuits
Rain and snowflakes mix it up
Hooded nimbus bout to burst
Not blending in with status quo
Seems to be his curse
Thin line stands at the ready
Innocence seems unsteady
And someone’s prepped to teach
Cyclops prepares a parting speech
Must protect the seeing blind
This one should be with his kind
Eating chitlins and chewing videls
Not shooting 44 caliber skittles
Walking where he don’t belong
Something here is going wrong
He has a criminal urban hue
To Mr. Cyclops dressed in blue
What a shame

Hero of the night
Void of 20/20 sight
Pulled his fears out of his holster
Using all his might
Fired bias unto the manchild
Spraying bullets far and wild
Cut buttonholes the size of hail
Left him in a smoking pile
As Cyclops writes a familiar tale
Another Mother cries and wails
If you got no money the system always fails
Will justice prevail?
Days aren’t quiet and nights are shrill
When lights go the world stands still
Stereotypes can make blood spill
No judge or jury just the kill
Distant ships lost in the rain
Fallen idols crushing pain
To her knees his Mama drops
Another acquittal for Cyclops
And the world stops spinning for a brief moment

It’s murder by stereotype once justice shuts her eyes
Lost in Half Moon harbor floating on a sea of lies
The island of acceptance is now sinking in its shame
No one to protect the huddled masses lost without a name
Accept and appreciate
Live and love in peace

Kodak Moments

Kodak Snapshot Mini Album

Found an old photo album
Moments in time
Held still in a book
Captured on film
A slice of real life
An imprisoned memory
Proof of existence
A chronicling of emotion
Both happy and sad
Happy because it’s a reminder
Of days gone by
Sad because it’s a reminder
Of days gone by
Reflection of my affections
Impression of recollection
Right before my eyes
Family photo’s
Smiling faces
Memories in print
5×5 gloss memorials
An innocent epoch
A world of contentment
A perfect family
But photographs never really tell the whole story
Do they?

Poverty Dream

poverty

 

Children raised with hunger pains
Living in the apocalyptic rains
Of the greedy capitalist deserters
And the bankers really hurt us
They stuck their heads in sand
Then took the money and ran
Just as the industries dried up
All they’re assets were tied up
Fed us crumbs from their steaks
Leaving real lives choking in the wake
Coughing from the burning fumes of fate
Cracked walls peeling paint
Rusted hinges and broken gates
Glassless windows lockless doors
Darkened stairways where drugs are scored
Once a beautiful structure now a haven
For crimes and addictions of desperation
Not only buildings were left abandoned
Humanity crawled away from its war
Took its spoils to accounts offshore
And pretended the children were gone
Letting wall street carry on
Blaming misfortune on poverty
Because all we have is apathy
Fuck it, we don’t have to live here
Let’s pack up the shopping cart
And move somewhere else
Somewhere nice

A Clockwork Existential (An Existential Beat/Street Poem)

clockwork71

 

 

What’s it to be then Eh?
What is your identity Alex my Droog? Does your soul know your dreams?

 

 

From the wet and dark
Arose life anew
Full of raging violence
Wild and auspicious
Unbound of rule
In a world of chaos
In a digital epoch
Where violence is king
Not much different than today
Survival of the fittest
Ultra-violence life
Sharpened with synthemesc
Opium for the Lewdies
Real Horrorshow yarblockos
Until betrayed by droogies
Handed over to the millicents
Sent to prison
What’s it going to be Alex?

 

 

What’s it to be then eh?
Loss of your freedom
Or loss of your identity
Stay boxed and shut
In a cage full of clones
Uniform yet all alone
No longer free to make a choice
Or in a cage on the street
An jigsaw of yourself
Bound together by rules
One of society’s jewels
Unique yet robotic
Unable to speak your mind
Free but neurotic

 

 

What’s it to be then, eh?
Stay as you are condemned to prison
Pacing in your container
Forced to be humble
To a servant with keys
Mind shaped in rage
A soldier of mediocrity
Counting scratchmarks on the wall
Is that who you are?
Same ole same thing
Dancing to your own tune
Singing an aria of your life
Day after day
To unhearing ears
Lost in a sea of indifference
Or would you like to walk free

 

 

What’s it to be then, eh?
Manufactured nurture
Become a sandcastle
Built by society
Waiting for high tide
To carry away your self
Stripped of imagination
A perfect Orange fruit
Spinning like clockwork
Dancing to their rhythm
Singing their song
Living chapter to chapter
In society’s book mundane
But free to pace the streets
Absolved of your of sins
Yet unable to choose evil
A hamster in their wheel
Reserved and compliant
Void of expression
Trapped in the expectations
Of societal programmability

 

 
The Ludovico Technique
Gave Alex a choice
Life In prison
Or social experiment
Complacency or individuality
Join the theater of the sublime
Leave behind the slime
Become a cog in the wheel
However unreal
But free in the street
To all the vonny soddy bratchnies you meet
Free of the evil that possessed you
Or stay behind
With your evil mind
What’s it to be then Alex?
Eyes clamped open
Medicine of goodness
Dripping tears of complacency
Exorcized evil
Yes yes yes my one and only friend
Until Ludwig Von pierced your ego
Shattered it in a million pieces
Awaiting the vengeance due
Haven’t you ever seen a movie
Or watched a magic show
Nothing is ever what it seems to be my boy
Especially choice
But rejoice
Soon you’ll be free
Just not who you used to be
Lobotomized by law and order
What’s it to be then eh?
Your nature or their nurture

 

 

 
Little Alex
Our humble narrator
Filled with rage
Locked in a cage
A prison of damnation
You’re an editorial sensation
In a Jail
Of your own creation
Your life waiting on cremation
Alienation of a generation of mutations
Locked away for committing a crime
Imprisoned to a life of time
Loads and loads of time
Nothing but time
You were brought to trial
No longer a juvenile
Now locked in exile
Unable to smile or sashay in style
Because what you did was so vile
Now little Alex is a murderer
Surrounded by hate
Either translate or eradicate
But you will acclimate to a criminal fate
Or perish and dissipate
Full on mind amputate
You’re a lost little malchick Alex
What’s it to be indeed
What’s anything to be?

 

 

Inspired by a book that once helped shape a young mans free and open mind, A Clockwork Orange in which the very basic essence of existentialism is explored. Is a person still a person once stripped of choice and free will? Is there such a thing as free will? Is it up to a society to determine nurture or nature? Is the self the central theme of essence? I have read and reread the book many times, viewed the movie many times, and both still inspire deep philosophical questions of existence and cause and effect for me. The clockwork part is easy to work out, the running of the same regimens day after day without change but the orange has duel meanings for me. Anthony Burgess explains that the orange is a perfect fruit but I maintain a second meaning. No other word rhymes with orange giving it a sense of individuality and uniqueness. When they “cured “ Alex they were in effect coming up with other words that rhymed for Alex, stripping him of his individuality and winding him up in a clockwork. Anyway, my tribute to Stanley Kubrick, Anthony Burgess, and the words that jumped off the pages and into my heart and mind….
In street beat poetry

What’s That Daddy? A Question of Perspective

dad

 

Why are you crying Dad
Are you happy or sad?
Right now I’m sad my love
Why do we get sad Dad?
Sadness is part of life Baby Girl
As sorrows burrow
Deep within our selves
It leaves an empty tunnel
To be filled with joy
You fill that tunnel for me everyday
Sometimes it’s okay to be sad
Because happiness exists after sadness
The beautiful sound you hear
When you play the violin
Was born in the anguish of a tree
That grew sad as it was torn down
That wine that brings me joy
Was squeezed from the berry
Born of the tears of the vine tender
Shed when we extracted its luscious fruits

Happiness and sadness both exist within you
Your heart holds near these truths
To enriches all the treasures
Of your infinite depth
Revealed to your soul
Yet not to your eyes
For you don’t see happiness
But you know when it here
Only through life sap in your eyes
The tears of sorrow and joy
Can you meet your true being
And walk together always
Hand in hand with emotion
Through the good and the bad

Live and love in peace

From the very first moment our children point and ask “what’s that” we transform from average people to all knowing parents. They look to us for answers from that day forward and with the right perspective we can become the fountain they’re thirst of knowledge is quenched from forever more. It’s all about offering perspective…….

LAST NIGHT

last-night

 

Last night
I had a dream
I dreamt
It was the last night
Of my life
But when I woke
Tomorrow was waiting
To hear my song
To see me dance
To feel my touch
So I sang, and danced, and felt
In case it’s my last
Every night is a last night
For something
Or someone
One last sunset
One last breath
Each note can be the last note
Every dance can be the last dance
The last touch can be the last feeling
Any night can be the last night
Any day could be the last day
Live and love in peace today
And every day

Hold Tight

closing in

 

Inspired by the likes of Robert Smith, Ian Curtiss, and Morrissey….
The walls close in
The countdown starts
Pressure building
Pounding hearts
Punctured musings
Grasping time
Can’t let go
I’ll lose my mind
Pain is pure as driven snow
Thoughts come crashing down too slow
Life inside a Dali scene
Reality inside a dream
World is melting
Its so obscene
But I’m..

 
Holding tight
To a folding
Life
Jigsaw fragments
Tossed
In fright
The walls are closing
Flaws exposing
Head exploding
A life corroding
I look around but it’s not me
It’s not my world
It couldn’t be
Some others are inside of me
Controlling everything I see
Holding tight
I make my plea
Medication please help me
Holding tight

 
That’s my life
No compromising
Losing my grip the waters rising
Toss a life ring
I’m going under
The walls keep closing
Worlds gone asunder
Once coherent
Now spinning wild
I’m Satan’s offspring
The devils child
My life’s a rerun
Been here before
Hope lies dead
Upon Hell’s floor
But I’m..

 
Holding tight
To a folding
Life
Jigsaw fragments
Tossed
In fright
The walls are closing
Flaws exposing
Head exploding
A life corroding
I look around but it’s not me
It’s not my world
It couldn’t be
Some others are inside of me
Controlling everything I see
Holding tight
I make my plea
Medication please help me
Holding tight

 

Clocks keep ticking
Getting louder
Veins are dripping
In white powder
Head keeps throbbing
Keeping time
Prayers unanswered
Church bells chime
All alone
In this demented cloud
So far away
From the maddening crowd
One last grasp
I see the light
Hold me Mama
Hold me tight