15 August 2017 06:05 pm
matrixmann: (Thinking)
We met
in a place where you don't get,
doubting souls,
not accepting the way the world all spins around,
united by someone's death, apprentice hounds,
young and naive,
different, but still same species

But then
came darkened clouds,
one holy day,
shady, proud,
one drove us away,
with him came fiends,
so dark you don't want to meet them at night,
robbed all the sense,
split all everything in fights


Ever since then...
Never again
words of "you're okay",
"you are right",
"don't let them get you!",
"they all don't understand",
scattered into all directions,
it took out all the kind connections,
lost a voice,
lost a belief,
today all live everywhere
and nowhere

you don't know
was it intend or accident?
That effect,
kids all ripped themselves to rags!
Someone playing insect,
threatening his opponents,
what did they do?
Seemingly catch the wrath of his true path!

Just for that,
he punished us all,
holy crusade,
acting tall,
swung 'round the blade,
deviation not in his concept,
when all was destroyed,
he fucked off in his own little place,
leaving with all his unalloyed!



(in powerful voice; more aggressive synth, 1st line sung, 2nd one spoken/shouted in turns):

Don't tell me it wasn't the purpose
in the first place!
Don't tell me it didn't benefit
anything in the big space!

(4/4 beat setting in)

Something going hot topic,
superiors silencing you,
people finding the logic,
infecting other people too,
on the verge of an audience
and then, bursting the zoo?

Don't tell me it doesn't look like it...
Don't tell me it doesn't look like it...


2 x Chorus

(whispered while ending music):
Wherever you are...

Musical genre: past 2005 Progressive House, Hard Trance (Electronic)

Fat text - Voice goes up, becomes more powerful
Cursive text - Annotations about the music / vocals

This song was written for a male voice.
matrixmann: (Black suits comin')
What I said
and what I haven't said,
I'm not here to steal your identity,
I'm here to correct it,
as five plus five don't equal eighty-nine,
so you shall not spread that one thing is this,
while it's always been that,
and in fact it was this all along from the beginning,
you shall not teach the vulnerable about demons and angels,
you shall just tell them the truth,
and when it means acting against your identity,
well, what identity was it then anyway?

A criticism is not on offense to who you are,
it is being critical against an aspect of it,
and if it is offensive, what fragile legs does it stand upon then?
Does it hold a real storm?
No, that's only possible,
if identity doesn't become doctrine.
"Here, come, adopt my identity!", or you'll be my entire foe,
that says everything how it is with openness for real.
Black or white, whole or not, all or nothing,
that's a pattern infants think alike.
I didn't know that infants can vote
or shape the culture society worships.


16 May 2017 07:50 am
matrixmann: (Thinking)
Brain stop!
What did you get me in this vexation?

You make me bad,
you bring me trouble,
counselors and schooling pack,
you make me double

The world is sane,
what I have to see
what I do is strange,
it's mocking me


I deserve what's happening to me ("me" elongated)

Roaring folks behind me
and they call:
We hunt you, we gonna find you!
We eat you, we gonna whip you!
And if we have you, we gonna kill you!

Fresh start,
I could be happy in salvation!

Another view,
another life,
no troubles with you,
I'll stay alive

Friends are mine,
a mate for me,
family backs up my spine,
and I got jobs to be

They see right up the lie in me ("me" elongated)



Bitch, you! - We gonna get you!
Hack you, we gonna grind you!
And set you, we gonna crush you!

(Instrumental passage of chorus music)

I can't
I bring it
To cherish my conviction
The sounds,
I'm sinning,
my brightest malediction,
you've found
I did it,
to serve this vile addiction

I could be happy in salvation...



We hate you, we gonna stop you!
Pest, you! We gonna hang you!
And end you, we gonna shame you!

Oh, I'm the devil alive...

(longer instrumental passage; music the same as for introduction of verses)

Musical genre: Trance / Hardtrance (Electronic)

Cursive text: Annotations about music / vocals


11 May 2017 01:55 am
matrixmann: (Yuber Suikoden I)
Female voice:
Saw you standing there.
You got a nice face.
Oh, you're not sipping on your glass?
Well, it's not the best place here.
Just the only one you haven't got to walk miles for to get there.
You wanna come with me and I show you a better spot?

Male voice:
Fuck you bitch,
save your tits,
tell me something I don't know!
I speak three tongues,
work a ton,
Baby, you should get some niveau!

Female voice:
You needn't have to be so rude!
Ts, should've known when seeing your coke instead of a beer
that something's wrong with you, guy!
Better save the drugs next time
and get some manners before you get so aggressive!
Which woman wants to go out with you?

Male voice:
(Who says that I want to go home with a female?)

Fuck you bitch,
save your tits,
try to tell me that I don't know!
You want a bang,
and some drink
Baby, the story's getting fucking old!

2nd male voice:
You turned her down pretty well!
How about the two of us going in a dark corner?
I think I know what you want...

Male voice:
Fuck you, dude,
before I puke!
Tell me something I don't know!
I cut myself,
wanted to kill
Baby, you should get some SM-Studio!

Fuck you, pal,
go to hell,
and please take your fucking tube with you!
You think I suck,
golden luck
Baby, I've had it with the likes of you!

Baby, I've had it with the likes of you!

Baby, I've had it with the likes of you!

Musical genre: Hardstyle (Electronic)
matrixmann: (Waiting for command)
Große Ohren kommen,
wenn man meint, dass du das Falsche denkst,
wenn du die falschen Leute kennst,
wenn du dich in den falschen Kreisen herumtreibst,
und Briefe an die falschen Personen schreibst,
wenn man meint, du hast etwas zu verstecken,
eventuell sogar kräftig Dreck am Stecken,
wenn du die falsche Einstellung hegst,
und du die falschen Gewohnheiten pflegst,
die falschen Bücher liest
und die falschen Filme siehst -

Man sagt dann,
du hast dich der falschen Gruppe angeschlossen,
den falschen Lebenslauf beschlossen,
du bist ein Feind unserer Demokratie,
leidest an Megalomanie,
du musst weg, auf der Stelle!
ab in eine dunkle Zelle,
Wir helfen dir wieder ganz zu sein!
zurück zum schönen Schein,
mit Tabletten und leeren Worten
aus allerhand von Sorten -

Was, du willst nicht?!
Ach, wie kann das sein!
Bist du ein dummes Schwein!
Du willst unsere Liebe nicht,
siehst die Dinge nicht aus unserer Sicht
Raus mit dir, verpiss dich!
Mach doch rüber, da versteht man dich!
Ach nein, das geht ja nicht mehr,
und überhaupt, wollen wir deinen Verstand so sehr,
es gibt nur den einen Weg
und zwar den, auf dem wir alle steh'n!

Große Ohren werden kommen
und sie werden dich mitreißen wie eine Welle...
Tritt auf der Stelle,
oder versteh', was um dich geschieht,
wenn sich eine Welt die Wahrheit zurechtbiegt,
wirst du es kaum erkennen,
nichts bewegt sich durch herumflennen
und nichts bewegt sich, wenn du nur herumschreist,
die einen gehen anderen gern auf den Geist,
die anderen lernen bevor sie tun,
und erfahren, es braucht etwas mehr bevor sie ruhen.
matrixmann: (Somebody called me?)
I got no friends
and my family hates me too,
I ain't no best
and I basically fake me too,
day by day
I stare at screens because I dearly like it to,
fast food hay,
nothing special that I really like to do

(expression change)
Calls of duty,
fragrant beauty,
I hate my TV,
inet fucks me,
why don't I decide to die?

I got no job
and the center hates me too,
ain't no hot
but I take from you even though,
here we go,
nothing that I'm really useful for,
stranded emo,
I like to act like I am fucking sore

(expression change)
Beer and booze
to suck up my blues,
consume and regret
to make me forget,
why am I still being alive?

Today is the day I throw my life away,
all are dead, my parents in their bed,
I'm taking drugs to make me go numb,
let's film a movie to star me on TV,
you all go to hell...
I got my Uzis loaded

There's a bunch of clubs I can go to,
there's a bunch of clubs I can swear my oath to
Who is it today
that can steal my boredom away?
15 minutes of fame,
now that's what I wanna say!
A drip in life,
what's there more than to die?
(*click* Noise of a beer can opening, drinks a sip of it, then outpours it in a circle around himself)
Now set this on fire,
burn it and feel the spiky wire,
grind it and put it deep,
to hell with it, I don't wanna sleep!
Bring your warnings and I am that guy,
what?! A knife?!
I fucking wanted a last line!

I know I'll land in hell,
but don't you think it doesn't fit me well?
Nothing in life, nothing to strive
Let's make a party with blood and spine!

Today is the day I throw my life away,
all are dead, my parents in their bed,
I'm taking drugs to make me go numb,
let's film a movie to star me on TV,
you all go to hell...
I got my Uzis loaded

(sounds of plinking bottles and glass, gunshots, squeaking tires, car increasing speed)

Chorus repeat (after a while)

(new noises: people screaming, police sirens)

I got my Uzis loaded

(SMG fire)

I got my Uzis loaded

Musical genre: Hardstyle (Eectronic)

Disclaimer: No reference to living persons is being given. This text is not about existing grudges of the author, nor does it lay down a "plan" for future events or wishes for future events.
It is a parody close to cynicism. Megalomania about being a deadbeat, combined with the existence of a spoiled brat that doesn't know how too kill time in his life and therefore ends up getting flamingly mad and doing extreme things.
Hear that before you want to grab the receiver.
matrixmann: (Waiting for command)
Hardstyle Overlord tells you a tale

There was a kid,
fucked up for a bit,
they tried to put it to hell

Fo-Fo-Fo - For all its life,
for all amount of time,
they picked on it,
spit on it,
taught it what fear was like,
low self-esteem,
can you imagine this?

Then you come along, speak the wrong,
and wonder what makes it snap back at you?
No miracle pills help,
no cruel punishment,
in matter of change -
what do you think you can correct this?

Chorus (sung):
You know how it feels?
You know how it feels?

They wanted to change me,
but it's all that I've felt,
raging in me, the reaction to yourselves

(octave higher)
All they could tell me is how bad I am,
nobody's seen me, the past glow in my eyes

What they offer you is a whole hard lot of scam,
in the end they lead to the more that somebody dies,
they have no idea what it means to withstand,
and they got not idea what it means to awake in a sea of lies

Hardstyle Overlord goes on with the tale

Got the kid,
worked on it,
they tried to put it away

Fo-Fo-Fo-Fo-Fo - Found its way to the violence,
didn't stick to the silence,
what a cry,
humans die,
can you feel the madness?

Then you come on by, speak so sly,
and wonder what gets it back at you?
Your treatments don't help,
you build your pack of innocence!
in matter of change -
what do you think you can correct this?


SOMETHING's wrong with the world and I can feel it,
SOMETHING's playing tricks on me and I can't heal it,
SOMEONE told me to be good again so I can reel it,
This SOMEONE lives in a world I can't deal with

Social workers, they tell you what you should be,
doctors get sent to poke around in your life,
policemen shake heads to that you can still be free

You learn that it's not a question of the time,
your world is a mess and
I've fucking seen it,
you got no answers in hand, but
still you want to see me fit

I was happy if I was a teen that
didn't know right from wrong!

Hardstyle Overlord

No-one to trust,
only adjust,
they betray you,
thinking "this will do",
lock you in cage,
writing on page,
anxiety hype -
gosh, he has a fucking knife!!

They're coming,
they're coming,

they're coming to get me!!
They're coming,
they're hunting,
they're wanting to fetch me!!

Black UFOs over my head -
they're coming to get me!!

Chorus reprise

(little faster, more like rap / going-insane talk)
SOMETHING's wrong with the world and I can feel it,
SOMETHING's playing tricks on me and I can't heal it,
SOMEONE told me to be good again so I can reel it,
This SOMEONE lives in a world I can't deal with

Musical genre: Mixed Hardstyle / Hard Trance (Electronic)


fat text - second voice
cursive - both voices
matrixmann: (Black suits comin')
Insects, mammals or plants,
Fish, apples, eyes or some ants,
We all kill a thing
to survive,
we all let it happening
without a cry,
it doesn't matter what you eat,
in the end we're all equally

We all take someone's life and don't give a shit,
we all are hungry and kill for our bit,
in the end it's all someone's lie
(that nobody dies)

You've got the killer in your blood
You've got the
Got killer in your blood
You've got the
Got killer in your blood
You've got the killer in your blood
You've got the killer in your blood
You've got the killer in your blood

(mockery) Maniac...

Claws, hoofs, fins or human hands,
Teeth, snouts, tongues, scales or slimy glands,
We all rob a thing
of its life,
we all let it happening
without a cry

It's only humans which create drama about it,
It's only humans which hesitate from their bit,
in the end it's all someone's lie
(that nobody dies)

You've got the killer in your blood
You've got the
Got killer in your blood
You've got the
Got killer in your blood
You've got the killer in your blood
You've got the
Got killer in your blood
You've got the
Got killer in your blood
You've got the killer in your blood
You've got the killer in your blood
You've got the killer in your blood

(mockery) Monads, come to me...

(repeats of the refrain and of the verses can be done at will; only keep it in a logic order)

Musical genre: Hardstyle (Electronic)
matrixmann: (Waiting for command)
Your teachers are bought,
your ideals indoctrinated,
the ones you worship - fake as hell!
And not even those ones who kill themselves
sometimes are what you think they are.

Be it conservative
or be it progressive,
the system corrupted all of it,
you're being guided,
not led into the future!
Someone makes sure
you do not get in his way.

Paroles of the past do not work in the present.
They try to make you believe so to keep your mind caged.
To make you avoid finding a new trick. Finding a new rule.
Use your own mind!
Question yourself!
Find out by sorting out the facts from the fairy tales!

And throw away your old idols!
Kill your old idols!
Get some which appear authentic!
University and advocate groups are for control.
Real humans make mistakes. -
And they rage too much.
matrixmann: (Black suits comin')
Hell is reserved for me,
I dance to the beat,
I have killed who had fucking raped me
you don't say
I play a game,
I have paid back what you fucking did to me

You came to my house,
broke in the door,
3 fucking people
and a scared coward
You came in aroused,
bat to the floor,
straight from the steeple
and pushing forward

The first time was - on the floor,
sent the wimp up to me
and he almost smothered my throat
Waking up in nature, dirty and sore,
doing witch hunt on me,
I'm stumbling down the road

The greatest fucker was -
first they tried to drown me in a well,
the next one took his trousers off,
and hurt me in my shell,
another bastard took off,
and made me show no teeth,
naked and slashed I coughed,
went down towards the sea,
the cop readied the gun behind me,
somehow I tumbled away from them,
found a bridge for me, wet grave,
spread my wings and fell down into the current

Hell is reserved for me,
I dance to the beat,
I have killed who had fucking raped me
you don't say
I play a game,
I have paid back what you fucking did to me

Thought I'd drown,
but somehow I survived,
someone cared for me
and treated my wounds
[down] [down]
back in time,
I remembered who I'd been,
sent back off to land to make you pay what I've had to lose

The first one lost - all of his air,
the next one lost - his skills to see,
the third one lost - his face to me,
the fourth one lost - his pride in chair,
the last one lost - his ass in deep,
and I made the first one kill the last one off,
so a new life was only fair

Hell is reserved for me,
I dance to the beat,
I have killed who had fucking raped me
you don't say
I play a game,
I have paid back what you fucking did to me

Break your head!
Break your bones!
Kneel for me!
Throwing stones!

Your value as a human being - it has worn out!

"Show me what you got, show horse!"

"I have no remorse."


"You'll get no way out."

"For what you've done there is no excuse!"

"If it was your own kid - would you put glory on the abuse?"

Hell is reserved for me,
I dance to the beat,
I have killed who had fucking raped me
you don't say
I play a game,
I have paid back what you fucking did to me

Hell is reserved for me,
I have replaced my pain,
I have killed who had fucking disgraced me,
you don't say
I played a game,
I have claimed back what you fucking took from me

Musical genre: Harcore / Gabber / Hardstyle (Electronic)

No relation to real persons or violence given.

matrixmann: (Waiting for command)
Plätscher, plätscher
tropf, tropf
Ich habe keine Aussage
und ich kenne keinen Reim
Ich will auf den Gletscher,
doch habe nichts im Kopf
Wenn ich zu texten wage,
erbricht sich der Urschleim.
Nicht wie ein Metzger,
sondern wie ein Kropf,
mein Text ist wie die Tage -
Inhalt finden - nein.

Ich texte wie ich spreche
und wie ich spreche ist Quahl.
Prägnantes findet man selten,
Kunst ist verkommen zur heißen Ware.
Egal wie viel sie auch blechen,
sie bekommen keinen gehärteten Stahl,
und die wenigen, die mich schelten,
die kommen auf die Bahre.
Und dann prelle ich noch die Zeche,
jeden Tag dasselbe Mahl.
Lassen sie's noch lange gelten,
oh wie schön hab' ich die Haare!

Kunst kommt von Können
und bedarf der regelmäßigen Übung,
alle, die etwas anderes erzählen,
wollen dich nur als Sklaven.
Willst du dir selbst etwas gönnen,
schrei nicht "Schiebung!",
lerne Worte zu wählen,
und gehöre nicht zu den Braven.
Schreibe nicht, was andere ersönnen,
erkenne auch die Biegung,
versuche dich auch nicht zu vermählen
mit den Beschlüssen von Konklaven.

Neue Reime braucht das Land,
seine Schreiber sind ein Graus,
inhaltsleere Worte,
dazu noch ohne Plan.
Wie Graffiti-Sprüher an die Wand,
so klingt das aus ihnen heraus,
wie Massensporte,
ohne wirklichen Elan.
Sie hätten es in der Hand,
doch sie machen nichts daraus,
da reimt sich schon mal "Torte"
genau auf "Massenwahn".
matrixmann: (Black suits comin')
Zombie squadron is ready,
there is nothing to lose
Intoxicated -
that is the way we choose,
brainless mindfuck -
formed by Mum and Daddy

We had all or we had nothing,
nobody taught us, so all we know is bumming,
they tell us to fuck off,
but got nothing in exchange,
they turn feelings off
and think we rearrange,
they never took care,
and now they tell they scare

You left us alone, but
all the things go on,
we learned to survive, odds
that we can go along
are vanishingly low and we - can't - give -
what you liked to see
we - are - mist -
the void's right inside of me!

The regiment stands,
gun in the hands, shot in the head,
the minds are washed,
drugged to numbness, promises sent
On a crusade,
our lives will end,
the lord is in change,
but the mission - no amendment,
no aim to live for,
lost in this world,
deception forevermore,
we destroy your every word

Show us the way to paradise
Show us the way to paradise

Death squadron is ready,
there is nothing to lose
Fully blinded -
the way you drove us to,
naive and small-minded -
formed by society

We gave all or we gave nothing,
nobody called us, so all we know is taking,
they tell us to fuck off,
but complain when we're gone,
they turn us the juice off
and think with it it's done,
they never took care
and now they tell we're nightmares

You left us alone, but
the kids showed they were not dumb,
we learned to survive, odds
that we still turn around
are vanishingly low as you - didn't - give -
anything to be,
we - are - mist -
the void's right inside of me!

On the bottom of things,
society dropped us,
and that's how we came to this,
it gave us no jobs, but
illusions how we gain a bit,
with nothing in hand
they know how we can never be,
they - know - how - we - get - stuck - in - sand,
fucking abusing me!
They - know - how - we - have - no - chance,
all day lied to me!

Shoot me the way to paradise!
I wanna die - for a better life!

This is a piece of occasional art. No personal incentives linked to it. Hence the tag "story writing".

Musical genre: Electronic

matrixmann: (Wasteland Ranger)
They draw borders on the moon,
borders on mars,
property in bloom,
when do they take the stars?
Anytime they draw them in the sky,
errect traffic lights,
call that "freedom of mine"
and still tell me "join the fights".

Even the mountains they turn into tourist attractions,
shift change on the roof of the world,
space enthusiasts can live their affections
as long as money is their word.
Doesn't matter if they're sick,
if they're old or half-past death,
bigness can buy every kick,
and fuel on all fantasies in their heads.

The world is an amusement park
for humans of all shades,
beware if someone starts to bark,
that's not calculated in their plays.
A golden cage, pretending thrills,
the last trial to escape is meth,
but drugs don't work, it kills
the cognition is solid, adventure is dead.
matrixmann: (Wasteland Ranger)
They're coming
They erase your every tribe
It doesn't matter whether you're old,
whether you're young or just in utero,
they hate your every kind,
all what you're running.

The elders they kill
for taking wisdom away,
the parents they take
for the children no-one to educate,
the children they pluck
so there's no-one to fuck.

They plunder the house
for anything that's useful still,
they spill the gasoline all over the place
to finally remove the last remains,
an ignition finishes the rill,
outside the doers start to bouse.

The traces of your life
scorch on the house's inside,
your culture, your brain,
what reaches beyond the blood in your veins,
presence of your life no sign,
but that was the intention from the line.
matrixmann: (Wasteland Ranger)
I sit
and I will be rewarded.

I shut up
and I will be praised.

I write,
but I stop.

Is this
going to drive them away?

Will they
even listen to what I say?

I am

I ain't
no fighter on the ground.

Shamefully reminded
that a pencil is not a gun.

What is it
that I can do?
matrixmann: (Wasteland Ranger)
The ballroom has opened,
we come here tonight,
dressed up like a peacock for mating season.
We arrive in a carriage
that is of a noble court,
the doorman lets us in
after brief visit of our faces.
Inside the show prepares,
or it already runs,
dancing minuet and drinking wine,
meat and drink at its best,
the newest craze in music and culture,
and some already fumble in the back.
The deejay puts his record on
and orders the audience to turn this night into day,
electronic sounds clang from the speaker
which makes the nobles spin around.

The night the ballroom building doesn't stand still,
splendid light, gaudy clientele, the selected society,
listening to sounds of the newest courtly composer,
dancing the newest dance.
The noblemen toast to themselves,
like there is no other day,
the noblewomen look for a good match
while they do the same.
The music keeps on playing
like there is no day and night,
when the sun rises up,
they will stroll home drunk.
matrixmann: (Wasteland Ranger)
Type: Short story
Rating: 18+
Disclaimer: All original content. All fictional.

Running water circles around my fading skin. It flows through my hair, cooling me with waves that pulsate through the bearing mass. My mouth and my lungs do not resist to take it inside, making it gain control of my whole inner life.
It's like I've become a fish. I can survive down here, the lake gives me everything I need. And the algas and bacteria keep me clean of pollution.
Some time ago, I used to walk under the sun, but now it's nothing that I need anymore.
Either if it's dark or light, my face won't change. Even better I stay in the dark because the sun would burn it. The water won't preserve it either, because it can't stop the process of rot, but sun and high temperature will make it even go faster.
There's nothing I can do anymore - but at least I won't be alone.
Comrade M. lies next to me, his face touches my knee, and S. and E., who fought with us, don't lie far away. There are lots of others whose names I don't know and which brigade they fought in, but I guess, as we're in the same boat, we will make a good family.
Shame that we have no women here, but for sure, the comrades from the outside sooner or later will take care of it.
...My wound still aches and I think I have already seen a worm come through it.
Assault rifle fire. Pierced me a few times, I dropped immediately, and not a second later I could feel the blood running out of me.
Everything turns numb when you die, like when your arm or leg is falling asleep.
Perhaps this was due to losing my life-juice all over the place, but the same way, I imagine it happens anyway, also when you die from natural causes. It only happens a bit slower.
S. and E. didn't get it that well as me, they died in grenade launcher fire. It burned the whole of their faces and partly even their uniform was flared off their chests, which were charred to coal as well.
I can still hear their screams, even though I know they're alright now.
Must have been a terrible way to die; the street didn't look like it was there to drive on. The vehicle they occupied was destroyed as well.
I wonder what happened to the few of us who could get out alive. Did they run back to the base or were they captured? Did they hide in the bush and managed to shoot some of our enemies? Or were they eventually killed on the run, just like our kind?
I'm only sorry for not seeing my mom again. She will cry a lot when she hears that I've been killed in action.
I'm the youngest of three brothers, my siblings are also in this war too. She hasn't heard in months what has happened to them, where they've been or if they're actually still alive.
That's been as they came and conscripted me.
I'm sorry for her...
The muddy water still keeps blowing softly against my face. A thin layer has settled on my skin. Small little animals, of which I can see half of them.
Soon I will look like a balloon, and then one after another my flesh will melt 'til there's nothing left of me except my bones. Even my clothes will vanish, as far as they can be degraded by Mother Nature.
There will be nothing left of me, and if not the one who threw me in here kept track of that I lie in this place, no-one will ever know this is the spot where I've stayed.
matrixmann: (Wasteland Ranger)
The myth of the one who came from nowhere.
People starting to get euphoric and calling your name.
People buying your products, daring to love you.

The myth of the one who conquered them all.
Disregarded by the people around, making its way, constantly working on his goal.
No connections, but he can raise to the place that everyone wishes to be at.

The myth of the one who never was anyone.
Maltreated and misjudged, wearing a pug nose and his clothes disgust upon the first sight.
No-one would want to be seen near this incredible scum.

The myth of the one who can storm the stars.
Everyone can be some. Everyone can make some.
You gonna be shining on the day when your time has come.

The myth of the one who had no help and didn't need anyone at all.
People screaming and there wasn't anyone who noticed him before things turned downright into hell.
matrixmann: (Wasteland Ranger)
Type: Short story
Rating: 18+
Disclaimer: All original content. All fictional.

Troops wander into a house.
Screaming, threats, noise and whining sound through the walls. Guns are pointed, arms get twisted, people forced on the ground - mostly male. Hasty words exchange in shout, words of innocence, words of guilt, accusations of collaboration and questions for comrades in arms.
The suspects are brought to the outside, with their wifes in companion, if not their confused kids. Parents and grand-parents, whoever live with them, are ordered to leave the house, too.
If violence had not yet been done to them or if it's not in the plan at all, they'll be carried off somewhere else. If the soldiers had a bad day or if the orders give the instructions to, they will set a warning and for that keep them around.
The men are exposed on the street, their hands chained up, in their back the soldiers stand with heavy weaponry designed for two hands. They're ordered to kneel down and do so in fear, in order to avoid further damage for their relatives and perhaps save their own lives.
Questions are not proposed anymore. The soldier who declares himself to be the commander starts to read his verdict in a determined and as well convincing voice over the heads of the fathers, brothers, sons and husbands.
He gives the order for the treatment.
You point your gun, in obedience to your comrades and the will of your native country, but inside your thoughts become restless. What am I doing here? Did I see him fight back when we came to his house? Did anyone ever see him actually fight in the resistance movement? What about his relatives?
Isn't he a father too? How can he be a threat to the state?
His house didn't even have a gun in it!
We caught the people red-handed doing their daily chores!
What right do we have to do this to them?
What will be with his daughter, with his son who are too small to understand? What will be with his wife?
What about my daughter? If she hears daddy killed a man who was innocent? What's my wife going to say when one day police stands at the door and says her husband attended a war crime?
Is there anyone from this troop who will be there for me?
The hand applies to the trigger, but slightly there goes shivering.
The comrades show no sign of hesitance, each one of them is ready to carry out the action.
There's not even a cigarette paper getting between them and their order.
Resolutely, they prepare to pull.
matrixmann: (Wasteland Ranger)
Type: Fragments of three perspectives that fit into a short story.
Rating: 18+
Disclaimer: All original content. All fictional.

We drop, we bomb, we destroy everything that's in our way. We have no remorse and have no regret, we're drugged and we act out of conviction. Our bodies turn into tools like the machines we ride, blood becomes the fuel and food delivers the energy.
We don't care who dies or if our comrades fall, the goal is higher bliss.
The bodies on the ground we don't see - it is too dark and we fly too high up above the soil.
For the fires we have no time - we have to return to the base to get some new ammunition.

Corpses shattered to pieces, splintered glass on the sidewalks and streets, houses collapsed, bricks cut into pieces, craters, burn marks, blood on the square - towns are destroyed, lives been stolen, children made cry and wifes turned to widows. Old-grown parents bury their kids before they pass away, children become orphanaged, lifelong houses get abandoned and occupants become homeless.
People lose their legs, their arms, their eyes, their ears, their sensation in body parts - some even need to relearn how to walk.
The sound of strong Tinnitus in your ear - you're young and yet your fleshy coat already a ruin.

This all happens with the connivance of the highest leaders, with the tacit consent of those who are in command. They shake hands with murderers and war criminals because they have their interests, because they promised them something. They claim to do it for the national well-being of their countries. For economical growth and making agreements. For the future and security of supplies.
But what they forget about is they could have got this anyway. Peacefully.
All they needed to do was get in line and play fair. - In the end, the most promising party gets the contract.
But this would have required competition and possibly smaller yields for their own. Things they couldn't renounce.
So they try, come hell or high water, to still achieve the whole cake - unwilling to see if they can get the whole cake or what it takes to obtain it.

September 2017

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