MrRageSynister's blog: "My Writeings"

knock...Knock... A soft rattle on the window Of life Of opertunity Of joy or Something that resembles Love Of things better off Unthought Untought Unlearned Forever under constant scorn Also of want,or Better yet Of need or lust consumeing Of fillings And the lack there of and finnaly Of self protection throgh selfless projection Listen close,you can hear it now Growing closer still knock...Knock...KNock...KNOCK... Insistant but yet so distant A young mind Fights the glass and the night To get back on the right side of the window of life. -RAGE G. SYNISTER-

"TATTERED TIMES" Wondering Somewhere out in the misplaced Somewhere out in a distant place Mentaly vanished without a trace But why? Hell I dont know I mean even if I did would it show Or would the river of life continue to flow Unrestraind Throughout time beheld to one is the rights to ones self WELCOME To the new millinia Like mass spread schitzophrinia Seen on countless T.V.s Are people who rape others belifes Hi there news caster,Lie,Lie Rember it only sells if it dies "If it bleeds,It leads!" Your moto is the soicety it feeds People here will rob you blind An hour gone is more than enough time As the solders continue to walk the line Robot troops,marching in loops Around in countrys that hate The United States But why? Hell,I dont know Just need enough to fill a half hour show Edit the rest in to keep the flow Make up,Make up,cover the fakes up Make it good to sell to the public If it dont sell then cut it Thay want to see violence and greed Murder is what we need Crys and screams Behold the new "American Dream" Sold in a shiny new box But it is still filled with rocks I'm sick of this so i shut the T.V. off And stare at the fucking clock As I try to decide if Im wrong or right Or If I should run or should I fight But in the end its just blood on film So I guess C.N.N. will allways win -RAGE G. SYNISTER-

Decided is the way in which in which i have become inside The circits within me have been exposed to lies Mechanical fillings from a hart of steel pump My robotic thoughts have become a tangled clump My metalic core,the waste of human hate and lust Burning eyes aglow with anger and mistrust I am no longer me I have become something Why cant you see I am nothing Remnents of what used to be A shattered becomeing A NEW LIFE...a new life...A NEW LIFE My flesh a tattered shrine for what hides inside Me and my thoughts are consumed by life I lust for the greed you need to feed me My robotic ways trap me into a closed way to see My mind programed by this whole worlds hated trust I am a twisted box of metal,circits,emotion,wires and rust I am no longer me I am something Why cant you leave I am seething Reconstruct wires and words I now begin breathing A NEW LIFE...a new life...A NEW LIFE

Shit man, its as if a huge fucking black cloud of shit has transended from the open pits of some kind of washed up void, and fallen apon my scurvy druged up mind. Sounds yet softly spoken in the waste of time, like some kind of beast. One little step for these swine, and the doomed are well doomed. No magical answer found, no resons behind life, just altimately unanswered questions. Is this all we have in this world, this coruption and greed seen everywhere and the people that are good and just, lay dead in the streets. Somekind of sideways wild animal with below normal intelagince, has raped this land that had once stood for freedom or something that closely resembles it. As I see it we have been striped of everything that once resembled meaning, like a child standing in the rain with no coat. But in the end I guess its all stary eyed bullshit and piles of law and pieces of the system that has failed us. So to freedoom i shout,like metal reactions or silence falling like dirty snow in the wind carrying blowtorches and smoke. The soft rumble of an unstarted chainsaw rev in my head and the answers are still allusive. ---Rage Synister--- 2006

We are not what we think we are, but, what we hear and see. For some strange reson fear is unescapeable here in the land of lust and hunny. Lost to some kind of desire almost over the choice but yet too blind to truely see what the truth may hide behind a gloved hand of doom. Like silence unchecked, spoken so loud that it explodes in my head like the sound of thousand tidile waves of blue rotten milk and l.s.d.25. Something looming now far ahead of us, but, as we find ourselfs closer to this system of consumption it becomes strangely comfortable. The more jaded our dimly lit eyes become in the shifting yellow light, the lighter our moods become. The right resons to fight a very wrong battle agianst none other than myself, almost a solo convention of superstition and angst. The silence speaks so much louder than your false words of careing hope and hurt justifide by nothing other than your need to control. Often times I sit and try to figure out how my thoughts have reached this point of scrambled anarchy. Like a mix of butchered breakfast meats and eggs, someone brought me coffee on the side with so much biter pain hiden in the sweet acidity of the stained brown water. A cigerette sits smokeing itself into ablivion, something like my life, I wonder how long must I tear myself apart and to what means it serves. Its as if I'm watching from the outside traped in some kind of bad trip but the drugs have been long since used up, siting dark and raped and used and broken. Put the damn toys away some wild screaming voice shouts, I look around but I must be the only one that hears these damn things that flutter like a synthetic butterfly. Its almost prostetic the way I let this shit ramble and roll like a rock shaded deep into the void. Answer not to the populis but onto yourself. It has been writen, look not to god to scan, the true study of man, is mankind. But blind the masses still fallow some form of doom to the point of obsesion. Consume and consamate, reduce and reuse, till retubution seems like a false glimmer of hope that just seems to far to get your hand around. Sometimes I fill that I should just give up and let the inevitable be just what it is, but for me the otherside is what it is, but it also just wrong on the otherside of right. But why am I so backwards in my pholisaphy that I cannot be open to seeing the green grass of forgoten memorys that are beyond the other side of the fence, yes something like you or a smile twisted into sugary happyness. Its seems after a lifetimes worth of drama and bullshit, I have finally found that to be something like happy with life one must let go and become one with ablivion and doom. Let go and let life do just what it does and live. I see that by changeing the letters we become evil in life which in turn sinks into nasty green piles of yellow vile substance of want. Now I truely see how envy and sideways wishes to be "Just like them" taints the soul of the user. Delevered to the gates of hell with a smile and chuckle, the funny thing is that you never even questioned why. These are the questions that arise in my mind everytime. Laughter forced and a false smile exposed unto you like something that was lost to the sunshine of black filled fire flickering apon the feet of the world. Closeing this door in the face of dreams and goals that will never be aclompished, why try to be what thay will allways try to break. Why try? Why not become? But still I suppose its hard to be something that is not welcome. Hard to be what is not excepted. It is far easyer to be what is expected of us than to be free to be what we fill we truely want. But I still would rather be hated for what I am, than loved for what I am not. And in the end I guess the world as a whole dosent realy care, but I canot let this get to me and cut me down and stop my words and thoughts, like a cell, prisoner to the box of the world of friends and family or of things that I never even loved, like sickning need and badluck. Silence sounds the drop of despair, but the candle flickers and I no longer care. ---Rage Synister--- -2006-

This shit is some wierd kind of funky..Taste all musky, and makes ya cough like a son-of a-bitch, but after that your head is all hot and your brain is swiming. Magical almost but reality is always much more copastetic when your out of your brain on hash and somekind of bubbly blue life. Stupidly stumbleing laghing bout crack cocaine and other childishly fun things that are normaly fun but not so much fun that it is beyond funny. God damn, these camels are almost hard to smoke, but thay fill so good when your chokeing and loseing bad air that was never fully realized. I don't even realy understand myself, but, hell its like something that somewhat pulls me in like a forgoten blackhole that no one can see but me and those who have deicided to not realy care. To just let go and fucking live life the way it fills good to live it. Some of these shisty people would rather sell you a ten pound bag of shit than to just say "Fuck it!" and fall straight into ablivion. Now it fills asthough I have nothing to say and no real way of saying it, but, I must speak my peice and let these out-of-place words fall into this strange order that fallows along like a dream. All misty eyed and pasion but still just unrealized thoughts and unaclompished goals that fall into displaceiment like a sunshine faced drop-out with hand-me-out-hands outstreach for some shiny coins to buy drugs and liquor with. Some say in the end only thing that remains is questions and judgement. Like the path of the chosen is beset in golden trible and white wings of holy projection that judge from up above on a golden throne of a perfect life lived. The path allready set for your feet to travel but the path may be tainted and the punishment for straying is copmpleately seveare. Blessed be those of the children, Blessed for thay are blissfuly doomed, Blessed in ablivion, yes, This enevitable end, is welcomed in thiere mind by a story of grand design. This is the bitter sting that sits just on the tip of the tounge and tickles the mind with brain tingleing enigma.Wicked tears of somekind of sideways twisted wish of youthfull lust pour forth, spilling outward into the dark void that is broken like the rusted shattered pieces of thoughts. Words read and forgoten, judgements passed and silence consumed by laughter expailed, siting here numb on the void, mind bouncing like a tiny rubber ball that you buy for twenty-five cents, out of those little machines at the store. Spining and weaving a fire-ball of words and visions and partial storys of drug induced reality that Im sure no one but myself understands. Hell i don't know..To be perfectly honest I am not even sure it would even matter. I always kind of thought that the world will come to an end in some kind of godly explosion as dark clouds of sickning despair consumes those who where not lucky enough to die. These skurvy swine that we call our leaders, these people we hold up on some kind of projection, could very well be the cause, but I'll stick to the idea of the ultimate esential sickniss and depravity of the human spirt as the culprit in the actual crime. Walkin hand in hand with doom, I no longer fill like even careing. Fuck it I'm to shinybrianed and lazy to try to even look at the world anymore, These poor souless people who are just like robots, faceless peices of plastic paper punchin the card and pissing on life from about two feet above. Shity stupid people who look like one another, something like a demented army of muntant children with drug problems and an adiction to war and pain. Forget your personal god, we worship greed round here. Synthasized sythic religous faces of rotten need "Send me your cash!" he says. pulpit of the populis of pulseless people pleeding power and painting powder over pawns of a peacefull person. Evil little monkey men on milti-colored pills from strange little blue, red, and pink bottles. Takeing drugs and drinking rum and scotch like water as thay decide the fate of all of us..YES.. Doom at its finest, like a high priced by-in that you have to "Be a part of to be some-one." But why? Why would we sell our free-will and open choice for something as false and dead cold as this. Why would we chose this false self-reassuance of all-will-be-wells and good hopes. But just don't forget when the doors are closed and no one see's there is still one set of eyes stareing at you but these eyes peer deeper than anyones. These eyes see more than anyones. Know more about you than well anyone cept yourself, because these eyes are your own. ---Rage---2006

The sound seems to echo in the distance of time. Asthough it is the centerpiece to our thoughts and it opens like red rose lust and painted words. Verb in the reaction yet silently speaking to me like a shining example. This is what you should strive to become, Yes, strive or be forgoten. Like a lesson left to no one but still everything, heard by all of the world in a whole, but understood by no-one. Don't let it all unfold before you as you sit silent and full of void eyed awe. Take the chance and be what thay say not to be for the choices of oneself is held out to only the people who can truely see. Open the minds retubution for those things that are not "us" and question why. Leave no rock unturned, no word unspoke, break any law that does not make reson seem justified in action and course. Live like the great doctor, And fill each day with crazy drug induced loonyness. Like insainity and fire, burn the chains of judgement to ashes!