HELD HOSTAGE. BIG BRAIN NO GAME
No more countdowns, it happens when life says it’s going to happen!
Strangelove
Strange highs and strange lows
Strangelove
That's how my love goes
Strangelove
Will you give it to me?
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My business manager has been holding me hostage for six days.
I think six.
I’ve tried to count the sunrise and sunsets’s from my window but after a certain points these things begin to blur together. When I accuse him of illegal practices, threatening to call OSHA. He says there’s no union for a writer and it doesn’t matter because he “isn’t holding me hostage.”
I lift up my chained wrists, shake the iron at him and raise one eye. A non verbal way to say “this is what being held hostage looks like as defined by Merriam Webster.”
He laughs before and takes another sip of his. “Get back to work.”
Then does this odd thing he’s been doing where he starts speaking to himself in old song lyrics, repeating 3 or 4 lines from different classics before trailing off into pure silence. This times it’s
“AINT NO REST FOR THE WICKED….
SHE GREW UP IN A INDIANA TOWN HAD A GOOD LOOKING MAMA…
TWO RIDERS Were approaching and …the wind began to howl.
black magic woman trynna make the devil outta me…..”
Freak. Pure freak.
He sits back there breathing down my neck, singing to himself, feeding one 8 crackers and 3 cups of coffee a day then wonders why every word that comes out is tense and nervous and I… can’t relax.
I’ve come to see this almost as a gift. Flipped it on it’s head to be a postive.
A stylistic representation of the nervousness that lurks around the corners of humanity and I mean this not in a way of despair, or to be interpreted in a way that says: we should be scared.
It means we should tap into the adrenaline of the unknown more often.
There’s a disgusting poison attached to society. A type of defense mechanism built around the idea of Protecting The Brain. Comfort zones, rationalizing our way out of tip toeing with the edge, playing it safe.
Our spirits yell these things at us throughout the day. Small pushes to explore something new. Park the car and check out this new street. Open this door, where’d it come from? Herman Hesse explains in Steppenwolf how a mysterious door can change your life for ever. But then again… he was a searcher. Literary explorer. He needed words to find what maybe we can find out there in real world.
Humans are…
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…creatures of habit. And you’ve heard this before. It’s one of those cliches that locks the human personality into a tight box. Puts it into a confined space where it’s easy to be explained.
I believe this is more of a side effect than a default setting.
Humans yearn for novelty and exploration. Guys fall victim to it with women; the chase - primordial - isn’t that what’s really desired anyways Women maybe too. We hear the desire to ‘travel’ screamed at anyone that’ll listen.
Zoomed out and all of these things do nothing more than simply show us what we really yearn for.
I’m coming to believe humans are electric when living spontaneously. When they’re falling in love quick. Saying yes to half breathed ideas. When they decide to lean towards curiosity of rationalization. To me, the dead man is the one with an inch sized heart and a basketball sized brain. I don’t envy him.
But. The god of today is Logic. Science. Fact and Truth. H’es being worshiped to make up for Faith. The wild hearted are being genocided. The true minority are the _________ and those who _______ just to ________.
Micro decisions. Daily. Small things. These add up. Drive to work a different way. I’ll be back later I’m attempting to chew through the hand cuffs.
WITH LOVE,
WINSTON
SOULED IDEA
UNDERGROUND POET
THE PEOPLES CHAMP
