The Abstract Art Gallery
Broken, confused writer Jack Thomas puts the images in his mind on display in this "Blog." He dives into personal experience and his observations of the world to share his take on morality, childhood trauma, creativity, relationships, sex, politics, religion, violence, reality and more. Using countless formats from narrative driven short stories, to poetry, to song lyrics and philosophical explanations.
The Raged Cattle
It Casts a Hate Shadow
Inside the Cage, Rattled
Awaits a Great Battle
Piercing eyes forced
Through blackened hearts torn
Twisting steel Born
With angered horns
Real, their shiny sharpened tips
Slicing, poking, making rips
Blind by red the blood lust drips
Freed, this slave just waits and sits
Over the last couple of decades the concept of philosophy has been reduced from what it was at its height, tools for critical thinking, down to trivia information about when certain philosophers were born and what they thought of certain concepts. Western society particularly doesn’t teach the ability to think critically. They focus on these trivialities rather than educating the individuals on how to formulate their own opinions and ideas with the tools of philosophy. We’ve successfully obstructed what philosophy really is, which is a way to acquire perspective. And now we’re faced with a western society incapable of processing complex information. It’s become common place to delegate opinion development to media and social medial platforms and sources. The development of philosophy has been left to politics…
Read MoreEmotionally abusive parents of schizophrenic children should be sterilized.
———————————————————-
Draped of silhouettes and contorted figures a dim light barely saves the room from the void. Whispers, maddened by guilt claw at strands of sanity to shred and devour. Fetus on the sheets tightly squeezes its life away, hoping the malicious tones drain out. Louder they get when resisted. Sense of self is ever more vague. Creeping away without hope of return if lost. Angry voices across the door weaken the spirit and give way to the whimpering soul that lay broken while innocent. Confused of cause and with no reason to justify loathe. A burning hatred grows for the sun and the shelter. Welcoming becomes the fade across the shadows with no faces. Simplistic the illusion of nothing. Peacefully resting on the other side of action. Long enough assures bravery for cowardice and silence be witness to the collapsed towers of rage and wrath. Forgotten or at least desired to be the whither phase to the ether. And the river of tears run streams of screams and intention.
Read MoreWe all have demons we struggle with. Fear of them taking control. And sometimes they do. And sometimes it feels good after we’re done with our fear.
———————————
Pained finger. Cracks and snaps. Deep breaths to get over it. Get it over with. Nausea at the pit of my stomach. Monstrous transformation I’ve undergone. Malice I begun with. Could use a gun, but the pop would make it too real. I don’t want to run. Craving the numbness.
Tight grip, I squeeze. Thought bubbles surface. Words in silence. Boiling water hides the violence. Struggles to keep inside. Hopes to hide. Hopes to die. Tears roll down red eyes. Lingering moments that don’t go by. Branded images. Back of the mind. Persistent twists of liquid mist obscuring things. Rage filled. Caged and ill. Killed will power. Standing still, towers, tall build. Showers of blood ripple. Screaming “enough.” Chilled spine. Raised hairs. Tunnel vision. Blinded sight. Regrets but no want to fight. Sensations that feel right to relieve the pint up aggression. Repression released in the middle of…
Jack updates us on his current political standing.
---------------------------------------------------------
The long line grows. Followers chosen by God herself. To enslave the children. To fight the dark forces. Hostages for a better world. When white robed phantoms spread their word from beyond the grave.
And they begin. “Where is my…” with air quotes, “Money?”
Revive the fallen. Destroying and eradicating the dark forces. Blue suited shiny badges of honor with guns pressed against the backs of the perceived enemy. A strike by the rebellion unable to regain the dwindled numbers of the “home team” reaching to even the odds by reducing the “away.”
Shackles and iron bars for the shades not aligned with the morally gray stars on the flag. Red bloods of white skin on the blue ball owned by green presidents.
Trumpets play as the blue birds chirp overhead. The distraction for those chewing gum silent masturbating to gun violence.
Oh dear, how the toppling towers teeter. No use crying over spilled oil. The dividers keep the…
Read MoreRead MoreBuried Beneath It
Boiling Anger and Fury
Rage Melts in the Core
Fuck this fucking shit
It’s so hard to not freak out
FUCK! FUCK! GODDAMNIT!
...the pretender isn’t strong enough.
Not to calm fears of recoding the system.
Not to forget margin for error.
Zipped lips with sick slick words and an unpickable locks tick quick building up for the explosion.
Increasing pressure meeting resistance must be equal or greater in energy value to said resistance to avoid collapse. Overfilling can result in a system breach and total failure of resistance.
Imaginary handcuffs for the judged
Ignorance holds the key.
A prison cell of conformity.
Embodied...
