Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Transcriptions in the Key of Love

Writer Hunter S. Thompson once said that he would sit at a typewriter and completely transcribe other people's books. He did this in order to get the feeling of exactly what the author was thinking as they wrote. I find it to be a meditative exercise. Transcendentally meditative.

The words of prophets are timeless and universal. As I transcribed the following pieces, I couldn't help but reflect on how applicable they are to the here and now of life. It reminds me that although we enjoy celebrating our egotistical advances in science, technology, business, etc., our collective inhumanity is just as unfulfilling today as it was 50 years ago. The day that we begin to solve the problems that matter will be the day that we truly achieve our greatness as a species. So, how do we solve the problems that matter? Well, we have to start by understanding what they are. Then, we have to care. I think that's half the battle. The other half may have something to do with searching to discover the hurt in ourselves and transforming it into something positive. But what do I know?

I transcribed these pieces to get into the head of the author. This collection is of the pros that touched me the most when I was up to no good in the hood. Though I'd recited them countless times, writing them out established a completely new level of understanding regarding the author's process. I think Hunter S. Thompson was really on to something.

Hello Jesus children. Jesus loves you of America. Are you hearing what he's saying? Are you feeling what you're praying? Are you hearing, praying, feeling what you say inside?

Tell me holy roller. Are you standing like a soldier for everything you talk about? Transcendental meditation speaks of inner preservation. Transcendental mediation gives you peace of mind.

Tell me junky, if you're able. Are you playing your cards on the table? Are you happy when you stick the needle in your vein?

Jesus died on the cross for you. Mary is just looking at you. Mother Mary feels so much pain looking at him.

You'd better tell your story. Fast. And if you lie, it will come to pass.


Your name is big brother. You say that you're watching me on the tele, seeing me go nowhere. You say that you're tired of me protesting children dying everyday. My name is nobody. But I can't wait to see your face inside my door.

Your name is big brother. You say that you've got me all in your notebook and writing it down everyday. Your name is "I'll See Ya. I'll change if you vote me in as a President of your soul." I live in the ghetto. You just come to visit me around election time. Someday, I will move on my feet to the other side.

My name is secluded. We live in a house the size of a matchbox. Roaches live with us wall to wall. You've killed all our leaders. I don't even have to do nothing to you. You'll cause your own country to fall.


Packing my bags-going away to a place where the air is clean.
On saturn, there's no sense to sit and watch the people die. We don't fight our wars the way you do. We put back all the things we use. On Saturn, there's no sense to keep on doing such crimes. There's no principles in what you say; no direction in the things you do for your world is soon to come to a close.

Through the ages all great men have taught: truth and happiness just can't be bought-or sold. Tell me why are you people so cold?

We have come here many times before to find your strategy to peace is war, killing helpless men, women and children that don't even know what they are dying for. We can't trust you when you take a stand; with a cold expression on your face saying give us what we want or we'll destroy.

I'm going back to Saturn where the rings all glow. Rainbow, moonbeams and orange snow. On Saturn, people live to be two hundred and five. Going back to saturn where the people smile. Don't need cars cause we've learn to fly. On Saturn, just to live to us is our natural high.


No more lying friends wanting tragic ends. Though they do pretend, they won't go when I go. All those bleeding hearts with sorrows to impart were right here from the start and they won't go when I go.

And I'll go where I've longed to go so long away from tears.

Gone from painful cries. Away from saddened eyes. Along with her, I'll abide cuz they won't go when I go.

Big men feeling small. Weak ones standing tall. I will watch them fall and they won't go when I go.

Unclean minds mislead the pure. Innocents will leave for sure. For them, there is a resting place. People sinning just for fun...they will never see the sun for they can never show their faces. There ain't no room for the hopeless sinner who will take more than he'll give. He ain't hardly gonna give.

The greed of man will be far away from me and my soul will be free cuz they won't go when I go where I'll go. No one can keep me from my destiny.


People hand in hand. Have I lived to see the milk and honey land where hate's a dream and love forever stands or is this a vision in my mind?

The law was never passed, but somehow, all men feel they're truly free at last. Have we really gone this far through space and time or is this a vision in my mind?

I'm not one who make believes. I know the leaves are green. They only turn to brown when autumn comes around. I know just what I say. Today's not yesterday and all things have an ending.

But what I'd like to know is could a place like this exist so beautiful or do we have to take our wings and fly away to the vision in our minds?


Would you like to go with me down my dead end street? Would you like to come with me to Village Ghetto Land? See the people lock their doors while robbers laugh and steal. Beggars watch and eat their meals from garbage cans.

Broken glass is everywhere. It's a bloody scene. Killing plagues the citizens unless they own police. Children play with rusted cars. Sores cover their hands. Politicians laugh and drink drunk to all demands.

Families buying dog food now. Starvation roams the streets. Babies die before they're born; infected by the grief. Some folks say that we should be glad for what we have. Tell me, would you be happy in Village Ghetto Land?


We are amazed, but not amused by all the things you say that you'll do. Though much concerned but not involved with decisions that are made by you. But we are sick and tired of hearing your song telling how your'e gonna change right from wrong. Cause if you really wanna hear our views, you haven't done nothing.

It's not too cool to be ridiculed, but you brought this upon yourself. The world is tired of pacifiers. We want the truth and nothing else. We would not care to wake up to the nightmare that's becoming real life. But when mislead, who knows? A person's mind can turn as cold as ice.


A flake of snow within a storm. A new way waiting to be born in a world with need of change. A touch of love in fear of hate. A rushing wind that's asked to wait for the promises of rain. A pearl of wisdom entrapped by poverty.

She gives love with purity, filling minds with hopeful schemes to build worlds enhanced by peace. Draped in sparkling morning dew, she expresses life anew from the earth beneath her feet. She is a flower that grows in love ability. She's femininity.

Black orchid, why did they make you begin when they know in time you'll find your truth before your cycle ends? Black orchid, why are you crying their fears when the true reflection of you that they see is love besieged by years?

She has touched the farthest star. Her beauty speaks of what we are and her freedom makes us free. Her now is in eternity; infinite to all that see and her dreams have been achieved. Now, there is a sound of laughter. Nature sings out her name for the world to know her fame.

Black orchid, why did they criticize when they knew your love could cast its spell and consecrate their eyes? Black orchid, why do you linger in space when you know in every heart that beats, you hold a special place?


Who knows where these writings came from?


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