ROAR!!!

Not really sure what God is except this world I've seen and been
seen by, touched and been hurt by, heard and been inspired by, and
those parts of this blue, green, cold and black but starry universe
which are difficult to understand, which leave us shaking in terror or
trembling in joy. Yes, those mysterious, wise and horrible judges of
our actions which do not walk on two pink, fleshy legs, who do not
copulate or complacentate. But aside from the rather worthless question of what God is: he gave me two hands: he must have meant me to grasp, twist, turn, manipulate and dig this planet into a space-age Eden.

God gave me two legs; he must have meant me to run, kick, climb and
uplift industry with the colossal power of the proletariat. He gave me
a mouth: he must have wanted me to sing the sophisticated, coquettish
trills of Mozart and moan the haggard, soul grunged sub-melodies of
Cobain. He must have meant me to assimilate succulent grapes with the
cultured hedonism of a Nero, and to smartly discourse on this
quintessence of dust, the unknown country and of a stolen night with
Titania, when I was fed honey and huckleberries by affectionate
fairies.

"God" gave me a dick and a healthy libido; He must have meant me to fuck girls
wildly and pee crooked.

He gave me a brain. He must have meant me to turn it occasionally
inward to meditate on the organization of our economy, from agriculture
to nano-technology, to the restraint of my oil, coal and timber fueled
addictions, and to the moral guidance of my behavior toward my fellow
human, be she black, yellow or spotted with red dots, whatever Gods she
prays to or cultural idols gives obeisance to, whatever her sexual
orientation. He must also have meant this brain to guide my behavior
toward the more primitive animals: the Jurassic alligator and the
ancient ant, to both of whom we owe an elders respect, the deer with
whom we've shared our forests, the dogs who've pulled our loads,
awakened us to threats and filled our pots during our hungriest
seasons, the pigs who've rolled in our mud, ate our refuse and provided
us with kingly feast in thanks.

God certainly did not give me these wonderful gifts of body, sense and
faculty to drain sugary, carbonated water, shovel in odiously fried
flesh from animals raised in degraded, unhealthy scenarios and to watch
predictable scenarios among glib, superficial people, letting cable's
relentless pettiness crawl in through my eyes and ears and wash my
brain of its elevated matter. He certainly did not intend my gifted
brain to rot all day while I type data the meaning of which I have not
the slightest inking, or to live in a student's poverty and not to be
held by soft arms at night, or to turn from all this in horrified fear
and pay for the honor of taking the one mind god gave me and giving
myself another, and to add insult to injury, to torture myself over the
moral guilt of a life which I did not primarily waste but which was
stolen from me by cold and random winds, stolen by an ill conceived economy that only wants obsequious flatterers, intellectually devoid number crunchers, and gawdy, crass "managers" in whose blood cannot be found a drop of human nobility, animal toughness, or natural wisdom.

My life was stolen by a school system which loves chemistry but
disdains poetry, honors mindless conformity and scorns innovative
endeavor, a school system which excels only in the suppression of free
thought, the creative flute call and of the finer moral and social
acquirements. And yes my life was even stolen from by cruel stars,
which left me with the born health of a Methussula, the life-lust of a
Bacchus, the intellectual curiosity of a Socrates and the reasoned
equanimity of a Buddha and then turned around and cursed me with the
social stupidity of an autistic, though not with the lack of caring for
one's fellow creatures associated with this disorder, and cursed me
with the organizational incompetence of an idiot and finally cursed me
with a body riddled with imperfections, with an awkward and twisting
gait which agonizes my bones if I do not correct it with well worn
orthotics, with a lazy eye which curses me to sometime double vision
and once incarcerated my twinkling, childhood eyes behind thick brown,
plastic bars. The universe gave me a frame that shakes at every cold
wind and shrieks at the snow. It gave me soft skin ill fit to hammer or
plough and then added a pocket of scarred, infected flesh about my left
ear-lobe which seemingly long ago crept into my hearing like the venom
that poisoned old King Hamlet. And this suffering my doctors will not
help me with and even seem to suspect a psychosomatic affliction; I say
so only out of honesty for I know upon hearing it you will immediately
suspect the truth of the suspicion, and yet the pain and constant
dis-ease of which affliction cheats me of most pleasures and puts me
whole nights on its rack, from which my mind cannot be turned to more
profitable, pleasurable or worthy activities.

Dr. Society, yes you, with all the scientific respectability and smug
confidence you have assumed in this cultural dark age, I am your
Frankenstein creature; my oddities are often only my neglect of your
own self-righteously vain and idolatrous practices. Remember that what
makes a man unclean is not what comes in from the mouth in eating but
what comes from an evil heart and out the mouth in speech. My pathetic
perversions are echoes of the rumblings of my hungry childhood belly.
When I was a hero, I had no Leander so now I do what Malcom only
professed in cunning. My unseemly rage is over sandbox toys your
endorsed bullies, including those in blue suits and with gavels, stole
from me. Society, won't you feed me, care for me and help me find a
vocation, if not out of desire to put my still gifted mind to economic
use, out of moral obligation to the child you wronged? For remember
that "morality" is not a buzzword; sooner or later, people drink from their own poisoned chalices!

But for now, nature has conspired with a few humans, scattered from my
dead grandmother to my small but worthy family to kindly teachers and
admiring middle-aged and older women, to the occasionally love inspired
nymph of a girl, to the occasionally brotherly friend, to those over
the electric sparks of this wonderful new super-highway, yes, including
you e-friends who've given me love, hope, and encouragement to carry
on! Yes, all these noble people have conspired to give me an apartment,
physical sustenance, a little e-space and a keyboard- and God must have
meant me to use it to ROAR!!!

and by Morrison, I WILL ROAR!!! and claw at the sky and HOOWWLL!! what mere words can of the jolting, melodic, Gin Blossoms jamming with Marilyn Manson and Jay-Z music, the colorful, wild-life and wildly wanderlusting paintings, the sublimely thoughtful, expansive sculpture, the rushing, ROAR!!ing river of sheer love I want
to release unto you! ROAR!!! ROAR!!! ROAR!!! Damn you, "ROAR!!" with
me. That's it; that's what I want. Now, thank you Ginsberg, let's see
the full moon with the sad, soulful eyes of Tom Petty and HOWL!!!,
HOWL!!!, HOWL!!!