Brand 'Love'

(Let me make clear at the outset that a person like me who's almost always certainly uncertain, never ever uses the words 'I believe'. Too much responsibility for someone who can go along easy saying 'I think'.)

Right from when you start talking you start to hear all the talk about love, to be more specific - the romantic kind of love. It's in the movies, in the songs, on your television set, the adverts - everywhere. Face it, you've grown up to cheesy romantic movies, heard a few thousand tacky cliched lines that people never get tired using. You've been the victim of a very smart propaganda. A propoganda so amazingly effective that the first image that comes to your mind when you hear the word 'heart' is not one of a pumping organ!

It's always played in my mind that Brand Love was created much the way Hallmark and the likes have always tried to popularise Valentine's Day in an antic that is rather obviously commercial. If loving is in fact caring and sharing, with an added bit (incentive, if you will) of pure brutish pleasure, need we fancy it up to the scale we always have?

Perpetuation of species is the answer you're looking for. Yes, that I think has always been a necessary need. If you don't make them believe, how the will cycle go on, the circle complete? Yes, Brand Love - funny the way it spells out, ain't it?

(Then again, if you ever hear me using a fancy line, know that I've only  been talking about what 'I think'... :D)

Hid-den-seek

What do you see when you look at me
Colour, face, chin or kin
Do you think to bother, bother to think
To go beyond my many skins
What do you hear when I speak
The tone, the pitch or the way in which
I have been taught to speak

As a picture hides the wall cracks, that just couldn't find their way in it
A story forgets to tell stories. Of many. They say,
A picture tells a beautiful lie, not so much an ugly truth
And that does go the other way
As you've been sold, as you've been told
As the adverts tell you to go - So you know
We live on things made to ‘struct
The power we crave, I'm sure we must

We've lost a certain significant right side
In a noisy dead end street
While our heart's been reduced to a mere
Pump that keeps us longer lest we stop to breathe
We seek comfort, we choose convenience
To write a critique than save the cause

And the pictures that our mind makes
We've trained it to hurry, to fasten its pace
Our one-tracked lives, they just can't wait
To hear a different song, to escape our fate
God, oh God, what did you end up to make
Tell me but anything, if not a rat race

A picture hides the wall cracks, that just couldn't find their way in it
As a story forgets to tell stories. Of many. They say,
A picture tells a beautiful lie, not so much an ugly truth
And that does go the other way
As you've been sold, as you've been told
As the adverts tell you to go - so you know
We need no more than listening to ourselves
While on screechy whistles the world around us, blows