The Flavor of Wrath
Color me angry today. Not the hot red anger of irrationality, but the cold, icy blue rage that can result in calculation without emotion. THEY want to control me, manipulate me, but they don't even know me. And if THEY think they hate me now, wait until I reveal myself...My wrath is such that I know I could shatter a two-by-four with a wave of my hand, disintegrate a half-foot cinder block with a touch from my heel. And I believe that I could stare into a human's third eye and burn it out with my glare. Oh yeah, Chief Jahaka is plenty big pissed this day.
My plans were not iron-clad but they were plans. Meet with my main investor, have lunch, another meeting with a group I'm signing on to do promotions for, a visit to the printer and, depending on the weather, a little public promotion and maybe a trip to an open mic tonight. I made all these plans for today because THEY said they might need me tomorrow to get to the bottom of the bullshit THEY have been trying to shovel over me.
My availability is not required, but THEY wish to make some claim to fairness, despite the fact that evolution of events to this juncture prove that THEY have no interest in fairness, whatsoever, but quite contrary. So know I have to deal with the waking of the Dragon.
The Dragon came into being during the late '80s, when I was was a member of SEAL Team Six onboard the USS Nassau, LHA-4. There were several operations that I would not have been able to complete successfully had not the Dragon emerged to do what he does, which is to wreak destruction. Ironically, THEY showed me where the Dragon slept and how to awaken him, for THEIR own corrupt purposes. THEY were different masks now, but it is still THEM, I can tell it by the smell of fear and the dull glow of ignorance and the dearth of aural vibration. THEY never knew that, even when the Dragon flew over Lebanese sands, years before Desert Storm, trying vainly to rescue one of THEM who was also one of us.
Complicated, but that's all I'm allowed to say until the year 2017 (at which time I'm gonna expose a lot of shit about the good old US of A!)
But now that Dragon is tossing and turning, the pounding of my blood is like wardrums in his head and keeping him asleep is more difficult. But, I think THEY know that, too. They want the Dragon to wake, because whatever he fucks up in seconds will be used to destroy the Dragon Vessel, forever.
However, the Dragon is no longer THEIRS to command. Vows that bound me to them are long expired and the great serpent, part of me before I came under their control and still a part of me long after I tossed all that gear into a burning trash can, saying "Fuck Bush (Sr), fuck the Navy and fuck this goddamned uniform."
Okay, that feels better and it was very needed. It seems the process of venting my anger in words eases the pressure a little, allows me to go on in a straight frame of mind. These corporate idiots can sense the Dragon, I think, but they don't know how fully grown and evolved that Dragon is. They have no idea how acute is his destructive prowess and poking him in the way they have is similar to sticking a 2-pronged fork into an electrical outlet and is equally as bright.
It would feel so good to do a show a force today, maybe kick a soda machine through a wall or something so people can marvel and know that an Angel of Death had been walking in their midst.
posted by JahStorm @ 7:17 AM
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