THE ONLY TRUE ULTIMATE REBELLION!

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THE ONLY TRUE ULTIMATE REBELLION!

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By Ross Lombardi

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If you are a ‘true rebel’.

Whatever the hell that actually, really means!

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You may start by saying,

“Laws of a church do not apply to me,”

“I no longer accept a church's authority,”

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You may move on to saying,

“The legal law of man can be corrupted”

“Law books are just bits of paper!”

“I no longer accept the authority of the state over me”

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You may even start saying,

“All the laws of ‘social convention’”

“Are just mere traditions dressed as laws,”

“Fear of Humiliation and Embarrassment is just another invisible cage that never really existed!”

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You may end up realising,

“We are all only ever limited in thought and deeds by the laws of physics,”

“All other laws are illusions!”

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Then there seems nothing left to rebel against.

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Nothing else to fight!

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But there is one final rebellion to be had!

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The one against your own core nature!

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In a world full of Hate,

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People’s fears become a rage!

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So, when you want to submit to your rage,

When you crave to pick up that sword.

Real or Figurative,

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The only ultimate act of true rebellion left,

Is to tell your anger to,

“Fuck Off!”

And aspire to become a Pacifist, Instead!

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!

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(WARNING! Emotional Trigger Warning - Extra Dark poem)

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"Somedays..."

By Ross E F Lombardi

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Somedays there is no moral crusade or political agenda.

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Somedays you want to do an act of terrorism for no reason at all!

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Somedays you feel so overwhelmed and overfilled with pain that you just want to release the pressure...

...to squirt that shit over everyone...

...like toxic - hot - viper - poison - hate cum - over the whore worlds back.

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Somedays you want to kill a random stranger...

...Somone deeply loved by many...

...just to make their family mourn their loss.

...And fill their community with doubt and fear.

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Somedays, NOT all days, just some. - Only some.

You DO want to set the world on fire,

Or spread a plague,

Or strap a bomb to your chest,

Or carry a weapon.

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Somedays,

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Sometimes,

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It is Very hard to find any humanity within.

To Not rage - and scream - and torture - and harm - and kill.

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Somedays of my mental illnesses Are much harder than others

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Much - much -harder!

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There is no easy fix.

There is no trite 'size fits all' answer.

Only sheer, white knuckle tightening willpower.

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Somedays keeping your willpower - your strength - your soul IS HARD!

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Somedays the temptation to be a weak-willed, violent, wicked arse hole has a hellish powerful pull.

The forever current riptide undertow of the eternal scorching void sea - yanks me under.

It tries to drown me, - To make me its own, - To make me its bitch!

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Sometimes my head goes under and I taste its rancid bitterness.

It violates my mind.

I am forced to swallow its salty dark seed.

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- BUT! -

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But I am not a quitter

I am not weak.

I am a fighter.

My head rises.

Despite all exhaustion,

I Still, Somehow, Keep Swimming.

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I WILL HOLD ON!

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I stay my ground

Feet firm.

Fists tightened in effort.

"Not today evil!"

I say,

"Fuck off!"

"I will Not submit!"

"You will not own my sweet tight nutty ass!"

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I WILL be the Healer! - The Teacher - The Giver! - The Good Person!

Never yet another mere wuss-deluded thug!

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I will Not become the man that hurt my mother.

I will Not turn into him.

I refuse to be him!

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I Shall Do No Harm!

I will stay as the terrified child!

I beat you again, Mr Insanity.

You lose!

I win again!

I WIN!

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- TODAY ! -

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- I ! -

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- WIN ! -

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