www.frederickroussel.com - Frederick Roussel - LITERATURE

"Luck" Â© 2010 Frederick Roussel

Thu, 17 Jun 2010 22:15:21 -0700

The world was a terrible place that hurt you, now it smiles while you wake up in the morning, your fear is taken away. You feel light and happy and the earth is innocent, warm and friendly. You walk past shops and bakers in the morning air, and people smile, there is no danger. You don't worry about money, because your spiritual value is what counts, and people don't tax you on your hardship. Your previous poverty and hardship is a distant past, even though it happened only yesterday. It was the magic thing you discovered, it gave you back your dignity and your pride, and it made you realize who you were. You saw yourself as you were before and didn't know the person, the oppressed, weak, broken clown.

You knew you were not going to be unhappy, that you were able to do something which wouldn't be so heartless, as what you did all those years ago, in the name of Service to the system.

You saw those selfish businessmen in their ruling towers of selfishness and unkindness, and you wished you had their lack of empathy just for a day. That way you could escape your hardship. It was love and a care for all the problems in the world which sent the wolf to your door, and took the food out of your mouth.

You walked those dead streets in pain, and you saw how the poor were pitted against one another, educated to hate and loathe you, for fear you might help them, or let them see comfort and happiness for once.

That television screen in the cheap take-away nearby flickered a dead film with dead actors, and all those around you are dead, even though they look real.

Everybody was dead then, and so were you. You walked in pain, and had nobody to understand you, you buried yourself in those same old films, those same few possessions you had, and memories of your better past.

You felt what a ghost feels, and now that ghost is a real person.

The person who wickedness and deceit tried to kill. The person who strength and trust could never get through to. The person who swallowed poison and fear every morning, and who drowned their sorrows secretly, not wishing to interrupt the peace of luckier people.

You always wanted to be lucky, and now you are.

"Luck" © 2010 Frederick Roussel

"Malcom Punk Died" Â© 2010 Frederick Roussel

Sat, 10 Apr 2010 15:25:34 -0700

Malcom Mclauren just died, and was said to be the Godfather of "punk", a musical movement which protested for its own sake and made large profits out of being disgusting and hating everything.

In its day it was controversial, now it is to the elites what Frank Sinatra was to THEIR parents. Why doesn't the world get this. Because there are too many stupid people.

Why should upper classed white trash want to rebel, and if singing and playing guitar is still "dangerous" then Hip Hop would be illegal.

BULLSHIT!

Punk in its essence was a negative force of disruption which "attracted" idiots, clever people from the press and other boring whites and lazy musicians who cannot sing properly to its "scene".

Fuck punk. It's too easy to "rebel" when you're white rich and spoiled.

DOWNLOAD KU KLUX HIPPIES AND LISTEN TO IT ON THE MUSIC PLAYER ABOVE, AND YOU WILL UNDERSTAND ME.

YOURS,

Frederick Roussel

"The Safe World" Â© 2010 Frederick Roussel

Mon, 22 Mar 2010 12:21:12 -0700

Caught between time you wish you could smash more hours out of the clock or just break the damn thing while you get off. Your demons circle you wherever you go and you cannot talk properly without them hanging off your sentences like miniature devils wrangling, even as we speak they're doing this now. Some days you mock your own former experiences or hide them, yet then they return, and you are once again struck down by them. People who live in the safe world you are denied fail to understand and mock you. The safe world with its safe little protection will one day be rattled like snake ghosts lashing poison into the real world until the smug patronizing scum wake up inside it.

The curtain of the world is closed while hidden gestures are taking place behind it, where only the self drugged ignorant power players remain, ruling inside a velvet glove of hippy bull, conservative muck and self aggrandizing propaganda shouted down in the form of silk, smashed down with false sympathy for the poor.

The 3rd world will not be helped by these stupid people. It would rather be starved and free, then fed by the ku klux hippy moron scum.

Choose in the election between two poker faces, or do nothing and still they win. Still your lack of faith is your own problem, and the card carrying political trash legislate with your mouth by candle light, while you sleep, as you dream.

The office worker reaching with his imaginary cock down into the babysitter's dreams, stealing his own paid-for ready meal of corporate Brave New World style thrills, where he has lost all touch with his ancestors and becomes a slave rather than the King the money he hands over paints him into.

FOR THE SURPRISED

Sat, 13 Mar 2010 02:52:35 -0800

Self censorship is sometimes necessary in the short term, while your immediate reactions become dangerous afflictions...

"Extremism" Â© 2010 Frederick Roussel

Thu, 11 Mar 2010 07:12:27 -0800

The extremism of this culture is the real extremism in the world right now. Please. Write some decent lyrics. I'm tired of "sex money" music pumping out of the sound system. There has to be something more out there for people. Can't we all have a good time without becoming extreme? Can't we be sexy without being vile? Can't we be attractive without being hideous? Is the world really such a one track place? I hope this mask is brought down, because the mask is too powerful. It looks upon us and watches us making sure we can't create alternatives to this crazy brand.

We are not herded into hiphop, pop, funk, or dance. We are not bundled onto the same crap museum display of past culture.

Healthy protest is needed right now. Healthy protest is a good thing. It's good to be angry once in a while, good to be upset once in a while, healthy to see through the cracks.

Not everyone feels like they're in one group. Or love one thing. Nobody loves one thing. Only music can cast a spell, a spell upon all those who still believe in social justice.

"Extremism" © 2010 Frederick Roussel

"Enslave The Captain..." Â© 2010 Frederick Roussel

Sun, 28 Feb 2010 01:09:34 -0800

Enslave the captain of his own ship because he would be a dangerous captain. Make sure integrity is destroyed because integrity is a threat to our incompetence and ultimately mean spirited order. Shun down the hopes of someone to smash slums into gold bars and draw themselves out of a painful existence. Don't forget to drag someone into something against their will using only brute force and not true power which is theirs, then pretend nothing is there and hypocrisy again steals its victory from the mirrored glass.

There's a poet in every one if you lash them hard enough, or perhaps just make sure they die young and then proclaim them special. It's always the "nice, mild mannered" girl or boy who everyone loves and who is captain of the football team and head pupil of the world that gets killed either by disease or by the hand of some villain.

Injustice is a language spoken so fluently by the elites that it is now a language of codes, humiliating stunts and horrid, wicked displays of control before the victim.

But we can do it, all of us, we can change this cockroach of a philosophy! We can voyage on a ship of our own making down a river of future happiness, success and good will, without becoming drug addicts, fundamentalist religious people, or satan himself....we can do it because we are not the scum, once we make ourselves heroes.

"If Only" Â© 2010 Frederick Roussel

Tue, 09 Feb 2010 13:04:23 -0800

If only the stars would align for that poor inventor struggling to hold his life together with two fickle paychecks and a half night's sleep every night. If only that arrogant rabble they call the middle class would finally either justify their existence by learning true sacrifice, or work harder and become someone who's worth their money and annoying "status".

If only this year's musical instruments didn't go to the rich kids who don't have a talent but have rich parents, and if only they went to the poor of the world who would be millionaires if only the idiots trying to save them didn't crush them at the same time.

If only those poor lovers addicted to some girl didn't have to fight over her, and if only she didn't have to decide between them. If only our weapons of war became useless and soldiers stepped out of the tanks and hugged the opposition.

If only the stupid day dream I'm having now would be real.

If only we weren't too late to see the answer, which we knew all along because it was dancing in our faces as we turned the other cheek.

If only the world lit up one night and everyone had a moment of innocent happiness at once, and suddenly forgot their pain.

If only the sick would fade beautifully and not wither away.

If only our mistakes would not buzz at us like disgusting awful flies. If only we saw our childhoods ending and didn't believe we would be children forever, youths forever, adults forever, alive forever.

If only some kind of solution would appear in the sky, and we were all saved.

If only you, me and them were the same person.

If only the truth could be kind.

Mon, 25 Jan 2010 15:39:37 -0800

The hammer in your head keeps bashing, but nobody sees it. Your face looks okay, and your appearance seems normal. But your mind is at war, and you feel as though you will explode. You keep your routine day in day out because you know what your superiors will tell you. You feel completely angry, but people diffuse your anger and replace it with fakeness and hypocrisy.

Teaching the human beings who are damaged to be hypocrites is impossible. The lessons are not well received. The doom is the doom of hatred and thunder and wrath which is invisible to those who are not plagued by unhappiness, fear and distortion of bullying waste.

The suicide will be too annoying, it will go wrong, so you don't bother. You're poor and can't afford to not show a fake happy face, so you show your best image, you wear your work clothes, the same clothes you were abused in, the same clothes you were raped in, a rape of your integrity, your personal values and your soul.

You walk without friends, without understanding of the people in your society, because you have no identity. You walk alone and desperation itself clings to you, your family is miserable phrases and words you use to dumb and numb the pain. The trivia is what makes you unhappy, the superficial whims of other people who don't want to face reality.

You slump down and cannot do anything, until you've had enough. You want to hatch a plan to strike back, but you end up striking yourself because they write down your crime and use it against you, you're a criminal, a slumping waste of a human.

Your friends are all weapons. You befriend the pain itself, and it is evil. Evil is your only friend, and of course you cannot get it to love you because it is murdering your hope. Every storm and every disruption you want to celebrate, you sabotage in your mind, but appear normal.

You continue to serve the pathetic world and all its crap, even though you are burning with hammers, weapons and death.

Sun, 24 Jan 2010 10:22:36 -0800

It is disgusting when the train is full of litter and nobody can avoid it. It is disgusting when the sloths and the gluttons sit on their disgusting foul messes and refuse to move for the starving to get in. It is disgusting when the fat king destroys his family, because he cannot stuff another piece of meat inside his already stained mouth. It is foul and rank how people walk through Leicester Square full of bubble gum, and walk upon the streets of plague and unhappiness, pretending they are in a circus. It is foul and obscene the pornography which spews out of the computer at some office desk, a sick ruin of the human relationship and of sex itself. It is hurtful how the parent sits on the child's future, breaking their concentration on life, and forcing dictated fascism of education upon them.

Evil lurks behind false smiles and gossip in the dance studio, it is the hatred of the authentic and the shouting down by mediocrity. It is the patronizing domestically trained former-rebel who now has to clean up after hypocrites all day long, and who secretly plans to strangle them in the dark.

Torture isn't always the nail in the foot, or the angry hammer, or the manipulated suspect being brutalized. Torture is the game of polite society, which is won by the most fake. Smash the gameboard in their faces and become society's villain.

Dare to prosper and face the selfish brat faces of stubborn rich children who would rather the poor didn't work harder than them, their stinking little faces all fattened up by mummy and daddy before they descend upon the streets of London ready to wave their hands like fresh meat to the capitalist slaughter.

The capitalist, the terrorist, the anarchist, the tramp, the neighbours. The neighbours are psychological hitmen, creeping with gossip, smirks and jealousy, creeping upon the mice who scurry to escape quicker.

The poor hungry starving mice are struggling, and people pay to watch them abused on TV, haha isn't it funny. One day they will capture Simon Cowell and eat his face off. One day they will find out who the reality television programme director is and bully them into making a costume drama featuring an all star fascist communist athiest anti-cast of trained actors.

One day the circus will watch society and pay for the amusement.

Tue, 19 Jan 2010 08:41:04 -0800

This is the mountain you will not climb, because there is a giant on top, yet if you retreat now you will only be pretending you did not just climb all the others.

You are Frodo on the edge of mount doom, climbing around and hoping one day that this evil you face will be put out forever, and justice will come back to earth once again.

You are a surviver, and you wish to hijack the network and tell your story, show the bad guys up and be understood.

Most of all, your mountain is not your obstacle, it is your gift. Your gift of the mountain is a gift if you choose to be brave and face the almighty challenge ahead.

You are brave, brave when you see all the other climbers who now stand there proudly, and you see the shadows and ghosts of what they once were falling all around you, like scrap books and sketches and crossed out ideas...

But they don't give in...they become stronger.

You hate your falls, your cuts, your bruises, yet without them there would be no progress in the world. You detest your own flaws and errors, yet without them, your humanity would be a fraud.

Take the mountain and leave it behind you, as you did time and time again.

"Mountain" © 2010 Frederick Roussel