2017年7月19日 星期三

Cause the good die, young gifted and broke

Everybody

See in my country the suicide rate's high as a junkie
And it's funny cause we're the ones who invented the bungie
Now we think that we're so hard we even jump without the rope
Or tie around our throat like a
True kiwi bloke, it ain't a joke
We living in this macho, can't show, nobody our heart's broke world
Where there are no
Humans only machines up in their bars talking their barcodes
Hard bro (hard bro)
But we know that we aren't though
We mumble a bunch of bullshit
Sports scores and weather talk and
If we say that it's cold that's a metaphor
Because as men we're never taught to express ourselves
Or better yet accept ourselves
So we stressing out trying to be anybody except ourselves
Mess around trying to hide what we're depressed about
Got to take an x amount of ecstasy to let it out
We're dead men trying to pretend that we all hard as bedrock
While we watch two half naked dudes stuck in a leg lock
As ten dogs compete for one bitch on E
Like a cock-fight to prove who's got the biggest beak
Shit is bleak no humanity
Only who's the manity
Is this reality or a parody
Apparently I

Need some money, or
That's what I'm told, so I'm
Selling my soul, while I'm
Telling my olds
I'm going to be somebody, but I
Probably won't, and all
I really know, for sure
Is that I don't, so I
Follow everyone around town like a mouse
Trying to be like everybody else but myself
Crashed out on the couch
Assed out on the alcs
Just like (just like)
Everybody else

Listen to us

'Cause this ain't no fucking joke, we fucking broke,
far from cutting coke, all we got is luck and hope,
dreams going up in smoke, one day, some way,
yeah that's what we used to say, now we black out, sniffin' white
sold the future's grey, the youth that we threw away
ain't ever coming back, our criminal record
haunting us forever like a tab.
Where I come from, minimum wage is what we run on,
no wonder why we spendin' our pay getting drunk off some cheap shit,
standing in line, for some free shit to eat with,
resorting to crime for some Weetbix, the same old story
that you heard a million times before, I bet a party doesn't even cross
your mind no more, fucking Prime Minister ain't even got the time to talk,
cuttin' off the dole, tryna justify why we're poor,
acting like we're happy working underneath your iron claw,
when you don't even need to give a reason we've been fired for.
Trying to fight the law is like, tryna fight a fireball, ask my old man,
they locked him up just for trying to score.
Fuck working in a factory 'til you're 94, course we resort to crime
when all you get from crime is court
And that's some fucked up system where justice is just some juxtaposition
between the police and the judge's decision
and even if you scream,
who the fuck is gonna listen to us?

Lesson 1

Do we learn math to add the dead sum?
Subtract the weak ones, count cash for great ones?
Shall we multiply or divide the nation.
Break down like fractions, send our sons away to die

Do we learn science in defiance of faith?
To make alliance with fakes for an appliance's sake?
We ask for the real but make artificial intelligence
To make smarter kills of others' presidents

Why do we learn history? To fix stories for the guilty
Make angels look filthy and the devils look milky
If the victor writes the books then what have we won?
Are we battleships of authorship, a rich man's gun?

Do we learn to read to receive the lies
To deceive the eyes from seeing between the lines?
We use words to bring forth sticks and stones?
To sing songs of hate that fill the streets with bones?

Is our day job more than self-slavery?
When we're locked watching the clock impatiently
We sweat for the dollar bills, the checks and the credit cards
But the dollar kills, breaks the necks of our inner hearts

If the police are role models for the righteous,
Why does justice depend on guns and nightsticks?
Mr. Officer don't punish me with brutality!
The streets got me singing Marvin Gaye off-key

Why do we need church to get to Heaven's gate?
Can holy water quench the thirst of those whose fates
Started in the wrong place with the wrong face?
Can the poor and the hungry survive solely on grace?

Butterfly Effect

All causes and all effects
No college shit necessary to acknowledge it
Some call it love and some call it sex
Opposites
Call it what you want but with one touch and you're gone
So call in sick
Human politics
From whispered hushes
And distant crushes
Mental fits breakin' pencil tips and inkin' brushes
Simple rushes
God makes man and
This is the devil's
Finishin' touches
From dukes to duchesses and kings to queens
From dust to dust this is the sinful theme
The scene for crack fiends
And gun-packin' teens
High on vaccines magazines and saccharine
Love scream

Bourbon & Coke

Cause the good die, young gifted and broke

2017年7月18日 星期二

如傾盤大雨

我依在舊街的牆邊抽煙,很暈,天卻下起大雨來。
我看見雲在囤積,卻沒有走避。第一天的雨,淋得把我沖到心渠裡,
水盡是黑色死寂的,我如浮屍浸死在其中,沒能上昇。
雨時大時小,如牛毛在大遍深綠中點下,輕撫著我。
又猛烈的,夾著酒滴和灰燼傾下。
大雨淋了我好幾天,我最終愛上了雨水,那經過太陽烈焰燒過,
清澈的水體。對,我的戀人,她便是那無處不在的原素,撐著整個世界。
我又冀沒入其中。

她平靜卻閃爍著異彩,看進去倒影,我不是我的模樣。
我本如乾枯無光的一株海藻,無力的在沙上散發一種咸水味。
雨就敲打著我,欲要把我充滿。
我浸著浸著,便浮回去了。


2017年7月12日 星期三

每次我傷心,都是因為知道自己一成不變

還記得李智良在《房間》說類似的話,
意指寫字就如呼吸,不能不做的事,
但寫自己為何寫字又是可憐的。

最近我被什麼窒礙了,看事不能穿透,心思不夠細密,
無以名狀的障好像閘在某思路上,用力在推。
我有時會羨慕過去的自己,一念間都看見事物流動。

又或是我現在看倒是看見了,卻覺得自己看不夠,所以心有不忿吧。

我在聽 Also Sprach Brook,可算是陪伴我達五年的一種節奏。
小時還未夠歲數進酒吧,每夜就急不及待打開電子遊戲,聽裡面酒吧一直在放的音樂,
陪Vincent喝他一杯又一杯的Cuba Libre,滿冰的高杯掛著一小塊青檸,
每呷一口,青檸又搖晃一下,手盡是杯面結了的冷水珠。

「你知道為什麼叫Cuba Libre嗎?Cuba Libre是把古巴聞名的冧酒,與美國的可樂混搭,
用以慶祝古巴獨立。Cuba Libre,就是『解放古巴』的意思。」
聽著聽著,一共在一個夜裡,聽遍遊戲旁白說的28個品酒逸事。
Vincent都喝得身子晃動,臉紅耳赤的,明明旁邊的人都在夢裡墮下了,
女朋友又在催回家、情人又在給自己發肉照的。

是某種嚮往,我也習慣一人聽鋼琴爵士樂,喝酒,自言自語,
而且還要在陰暗的地方,頹敗至極。

如此頹靡的Vincent卻是戰勝神明的人,一步步努力向上爬。

過往這麼多年,在別的日誌寫文時,一定要聽這音樂,這種自說自話想要給自己療癒什麼,
肯定什麼,反駁什麼。
駁這個又駁那個,最後把自己打得沒有形體,什麼也得嚥下。

你不能再這樣了,你是海水一般的在吞吐所有事物,卻從不要翻起過一點浪,
這樣只是死水。死水裡沒有生命的。

回想我這潭死水,大概是黑得像墨,埋藏了自己與各人的砂石碎屑,
都是黑漆漆的。

無風又怎起浪,可是風其實又從水的溫度來。
太陽不是沒有,這水怎麼都不熱的又不起風。

我又再聽歌自說自話,好想倒頭就睡。

翻浪嗎。
我猜我都翻過吧。

我猜這個糾結都不是第一次要解,
到底我是在等什麼風,
還是我只適合當孤獨的瘋子痴漢嗎,我又不依。

唉。

閉目噴口白煙。

手指一彈煙灰掉進花瓶去。

猛然醒來。

我一頭栽進這舊物堆裡,抱緊衣架上的服飾。

舊物如火機借火,點燃的是你的內心啊。

唉。

2017年7月4日 星期二

但還有很多說不清

看煙灰快斷,我又檢視自己那破壞慾的緣由。
不知是淒美否,但物件碎屑掉落,藕斷絲連的形態很醉人。
拉扯還是火燒,事物一點點頹萎,有形的淡出於時間與空間中,
很漂亮。

這是我頭一次把破壞慾連繫於觀賞之美中。
但這美麗還不能對應於意識中,面對人的剝落,只有歎息。

假如情感都置於物件中,我自私的還是把消失的物件,抽走了情感。
只剩那直接觀看的眼睛,也許這就是那破壞慾可怖之處。
亦是為何這不常發生,因為情感於我還是太重要了。
得知自己還是會消去物件裡的情感,這很可怕。

但又是一種發洩,我喜歡看它們難捨的斷離,
蹂躪還原成塵埃。

一種把苦苦編織的模樣,強行拆解的暢快。
如果可以蠻力破壞無形的事,能把世界重置就好了。

好吧,就將這慾望化作調整社會的力量。

2017年7月1日 星期六

喚一聲這天雷 讓雨水代替眼淚

昨晚心緒不寧得可以,帶到今天遊行裡。
手在抖,我發現當要走進好像社會運動的人堆裡,
心總跳過不停,總是想哭,呼吸急促。

眼睛看見很多商業了的事,如壓往眼球的無形力,
精神壓力大得可以,種種都很吵,我的精神需重新流入雨水中才可靜止。

很可怕,很可惡,很嘔心,自己融入不了,嘔心的是自己。
又想在逃避,又想要軟弱嗎。我又不依,對自己說堅強的模樣不是如此。
冷冷看各種荒唐與悲哀,非深呼吸十數下不可。

「身體髮膚,受諸父母。」
「你是認真的?那是否我是你的物品而已?」
「不是,但你死了,我們會很傷心。」
「我死了,所有人都會傷心啊。」

然後我總會死的,傷心就是不可避免了。

心緒不寧時,手指不能停止,要拍打什麼,要抓破什麼。
粗暴的按鍵盤,文字溫柔彈列出,心好了點。
我還是只有撒野才安靜,於是訴苦於她。
好了點。好了點。

在前往一個社會運動的場所時,我總讓自己聽黃衍仁的《落地行雷》。
他們在唱舉起手撐和原諒我這一生不羈放縱愛自由,
我聽若天將要行雷讓我成為雨水。
他這首歌內裡的澎湃不停從我腦裡湧流,很強。
我看見俗氣難耐的黃金貨櫃,僅由一個個生鏽的黑實沉重齒輪獨力支撐。
要是暴雨造成洪流,沖洗下便會剝落,崩塌。

是血紅又咸的洪流,
因為齒輪的牙裡釘著人肉。

只是這地破洞太多,水都流開,凝聚不了。

我又看見別處在放只有煙的煙火,幾十萬轟在天空中,人們看得興奮。

我又看見一個小孩與兩個中年女人在拍照,小孩一手拿著五星紅旗,一手拿著玩具機械臂。
不禁幻想他的童年與將來,我死後他的世界會將如何?

她總是不屈不撓的想要確實在歷史中改變什麼,
我卻悲觀得,只想安撫殘酷現實中裡的人,可以以人體現最高價值的身份下死去。
「也許,也許把地的破洞修好,水就會流吧。」