Generations of abuse, of unhappiness, of love and sacrifice later, here I stand. Here I stand, world, here I stand ready to take you the fuck on, ready for almost anything you want to do to me, but make sure you only do it to me because may hell be let loose on you for fucking with those I love, because generations later I love everyone and everything. Generations of abuse end with me. Generations of love begin with me. The parents of my parents did not know this love, this ferocity, they cannot know me and they turn in fear of my harsh, bright love.
Generations after you moved here from Norway, Germany, Italy, Ireland, I embody traits of all of you, ancestors. Generations past have given me the eyes of Ireland, the ferocity of Germany, the languidness of Italy, and the goddamned obscurity of Norway. Generations, I revere you for giving me everything you had to offer, and what you had to offer was everything.
Generations later, here I stand in America, unable to appreciate modernity in all its ugliness. Here I stand in America, appalled at the ugliness and immorality and lack of compassion and I am ANGRY, ancestors! I am ANGRY! Generations later, where is what you wanted for your children?! Where is love to be found?! What is this litter of the streets and of the mind and of the heart?! I am ANGRY with this disrespect!!
Generations later, here I stand, looking back and looking forward, drawing on your beauty and on my hope, drawing on your gentle compassion and on your ugly mistakes, pulling close to me what I accept and casting from me what I do not. Generations later I know you are proud of me, I know you would accept my decisions and my ferocity with a proud face and a tight embrace and you would not be afraid.
My love and my mouth burn like the sun with a fierce grin and harsh words.
Information re: the blog that is mine
- B. R. Knee
- Hi there, what you're about (or not, you're hardly being forced to [as what I have to say may be beneficial, modern reason dictates it is not obligatory]) to read are the rantings, ramblings, and occasional gleeposts of a kid whose only real virtue is outrage and whose vice is joy. I use little to no statistics and generally back myself up anyway. It's difficult to use reason to do that, you know. This is my "srs bsns" blog; I'm rancidly obnoxious at other places (said places can be found in my links, of all the areas in which I could have provided alternative versions of myself).
1 comment:
WOAH!!!!
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