"IMAGINOR":Hour Of Magic....

Continuation of my last post , 'The Sound of Muzak' While listening to music makes your feet tap in rhythm , adds colours to your imagination or even better you get possessed by evil spirits and you burn a goddamn church down , there's something that you cannot really call it as music or can you? Some songs become part of your mundane life , you know , the perfect love song , a hate song , a wake up song and getting the first job song (is there any ?). None of the above applies when you put bunch of lunatics , retards , ex-prostitutes and rape victims in a room and make music. The idea itself sounds disturbing , isn't it? And what came out from those darkest sessions were world's most terrifying albums. There is this general conception that people fear or avoid or detest when they don't understand something. Something similar happened to me when I turned this YouTube video called ''10 Most Evil Bands of All Time" on and some band called &qu

When I listen to music , there's something going on back off my head figuring out what kind of music is this. Is it rock or hard rock? Maybe it's heavy metal or just Jon bon Jovi stuff, you know 'bed of roses' and you think you would probably sing it on your engagement day. Nonetheless listening to music gives you either that super power of singing James blunt before your fiancée or just being one of the four horsemen, raising hell, waking up on wrong side of the bed. Pink Floyd favoured hundreds of thousands hallucinating folks, brought them back to life or they didn't , did they?Metallica gave birth to 'metalheads' or t-shirts? The battle between Metallica and megadeth seems to continue forever in YouTube comments. All these are fun even if you are not a rock back fan. Each and every artist have their own style and each of these bands have their own ways of telling stories even if it was bringing revolution being trannies!? Now people categorised

That feeling when you think you could have written this , well could you have by the way? :)

Standing on the side of the road , today , everyday, was a one legged man. Others in haste receded the one legged man. Others still passing by , Sun went down , today , everyday; The one legged man disappeared. The one legged man ,wearing colorless loin cloths, was standing crooked. Pained? Cannot run and cannot hide against the dark dust storm coming to sweep everything away. Feared? Cannot sleep and cannot speak , his arm had no charity. Death? Perhaps he is living like all the others who crossed this road in the morning.

Rain soaked city streets, perfect day for friendly tweets , coffee and cigarettes all together. Not a day for military marches , uncanny noises of boots, sirens and alarms. A day that may never come , 'cause tomorrow , the drones will fly with superiority. Men , women and children, sleeping tonight , had their meals shared. Wake up, never, today is the perfect day. Tomorrow , maybe we'll see the same slick black cars rampaging the city streets again. No peace.No rest. Can all of us, be not live in hunger? And can all of us, be not proud of what we are together? Can a system be changed while living in it at the same time? We are parasites. We can only destroy and be less appreciative. We can let a farmer starved to death. We can murder an unborn girl child. Never, we'll walk the same road together. Never, we'll mix colors into one. Never, we'll exist for a world that a hungry kid imagines. Never, there can be a better world than this. Perhaps, g

Evening time, children were playing in the park some were dreaming their phantom dreams. Lovers were taking a walk , sharing their thoughts , planning a runaway. Vendors and shoppers were looking for a vantage point against each other. I could see the glittering jewelry shops,restaurants under the bright neon lights. The traffic was standing still for some reason, well the road was not broad enough. Nonetheless quite a remarkable city , as a matter of fact every city has its own charm, they all tell you something. And they are all running out of time, a whole lotta rush called life, always beating in a rhythm. The wealthy banker didn't exist in the invitee list anymore.He missed a moment of his life, I suppose.  The traffic didn't really move all the while. Lady inside the car was probably cursing or wishing if she had a great vision to fathom and see what's going on, probably getting late for her son's guitar class. The ants can carry objects hundred time