self expression – Brunomad

Fuck me, I love Lana del Rey. A certain Soul – one I pushed away once upon a time – introduced me to this mistress of music and poetry. Despite my antics for metal and hard rock shenanigans (with a healthy dose of folk thrown in for good measure), I find this woman to speak to me. Her words – fuck – her words are brilliant, that brilliance that can only stem from the tortured agony of introspective self-awareness. Her escape from the Cave was wrought with dangerous Shadows and feckless Chains, yet her words proved her liberation. Perhaps that’s why, comrades, this pop star speaks to my Soul. That tattered Soul of gray, frayed at the edges, worn to the interior, yet pulsating with a light that refuses to yield. Cover it with a bushel basket and you place it atop a hill: it cannot be hidden.

This light had a resurgence today.

Continue reading “Bastard”

A former student of mine – now a Junior – asked this of me the other day whilst I invaded his class in a blatant display of ego-mongering. I was taken aback, for, as we know, I deny deny deny the existence of this blog. The tag line, after all, is “a blog for mad people by a madman.” Certainly isn’t apropos for a teacher to be guiding his charges (former and current) toward a blog of mad rants and ramblings of a drunkard trying to make sense of a world long lost to oblivion.

Well, fuck.

Empty Walls has been on repeat for the better part of an hour, I reckon, for – in times of dead reckoning – such tunes find comfort within my distended breast. Repetition, wh’ther it be poetry, politics, or people, is important to consider.

We repeat things for emphasis.

And, comrades, I daresay I sorely lack in the repetition of my writings.

Continue reading “Are You Still Blogging?”