notes from a rum soaked sophist

October 23, 2008

Im a warped wombat with the heart of an ocelot cub, the spirit of a Spartan, the deviant desire of a serial pervert and the dedication towards honour and respect of a roman of the praetorian guard…what matters to me is love. The love between those I consider brethren…the love which is developing thick and fast between my artistic nymph minx and myself…respect and honour, come before everything. Before love… Without them, in my own output to this world where I dwell, I feel like a fraud, like one of the snake people…integrity also, is of ultra importance, in my own caressing of the Outside…and also for those I choose to bring close to my soul…I recall vividly a Caribbean friend introducing me to a few of his acquaintances…he said something along the lines of ‘this is dan, he is always, in the least, honest…’…which went down as well with the crowd as would have telling them that I was a convicted rapist…shock, horror… at best, bemusement…not quite the itch to befriend me, as perhaps richy would have liked, or expected…BEWARE, HE IS HONEST…I liked that. Immensely…it was a beautiful thing to say, and the reaction of his cohorts, epitomized my main issue with western humanity…the pretty lies syndrome…If this sounds arrogant, which it may do, then I need to add balance to this potential ego trip into the Daniele ether…My honesty goes full circle. Which means…that I am honestly a tool at times, honestly an insecure psychopath, honestly a cynical bastard, honestly hard to bear for those of a weak capacity for patience and understanding…but the bones of this body of words, is that Honesty is as integral to decent energy exchange between creatures as wings are to birds…I fucking swear by that adage…is it an adage*** if not is should be…because without honesty, anything spoken between creatures, anything expressed, is vapid, useless, air not land or water…im a water bearer, though my sign is Air…and its no surprise to me or my astrologically slanted sage that I prefer the water to the air and land…I don’t tow the line. I despise lying for the sake of fraudulent serenity and security…Better to be quiet than forsake my integrity…without it I am nothing but a set of carefully rehearsed reactions designed to endear, to maintain, to impress, to keep others happy. Fuck that…what can one learn from lying to others**** nothing, other than how gullible and easy to manipulate others can be…perhaps Im a sophist. Because I play with words, I play with people, but if I am that, a sophist, I am Medea, not a modern politician…to know thyself, one needs to look outwards, as well as inwards…one needs to bounce himself off ALL sorts, not just those he can trust to reflect a warm image…but as a wise friend once told me…the source of these reflections, must be taken carefully into account, for they may have their own agenda, their own barriers to entry into the soul…finding Honesty in a world of pimps and players, hoes and bitches, aint easy…but its worth seeking…we need honest mirrors, not cracked mirrors…else how the hell can we see ourselves…


an ewok emotive core…

October 23, 2008

She is my pet kitten,
soft and playful,
driven by a near constant search for mischeif.

She is my mouse,
squeaking with loving displeasure,
as her body claims by brute force,
a lion’s share of the bed.

She is my elixir of sublime bliss,
her face red,
her cheeks flushed,
and glowing,
her mouth stuck in a smile,
sweat dreading her hair,
after we have fucked,
after we have coated our bubble with love,
after my tongue,
has raised the temperature of her womanocean,
to scorching.

she is a bermuda triangle wind,
shifting sporadically,
into myserious gloom,
spinning my internal compass,
with a mere glance…

she is unfathomed,
until she can fathom herself,
but what i can fathom,
is blazing sunshine,
volcanic heat,
an ewok emotive core.

she is more nature,
than human,
more snow,
tha plastic,
more earth,
than moon.

she is my everything,
and all i want,
all i need,
all i can do,
is make her happy,
because waking by her side,
drinking in her nubile form,
her divine radiance,
rising like mist,
from the porcelan lake beneath her fur,
is truly heavenly.

She is peace of mind,
fire of body,
shangri-la of soul.

born in pain

October 23, 2008

Born in pain,
Cruel enough to end his maternal entry point to this realm,
Passed around like an unwanted, troublesome puppy, who barked too much for the neighbours,
A dark prince developed,
As he grew,
According to his experience,
According to his self,
which appeared in stages,
as light flashed on his soul,
through turmoil,
through grief,
through life…

I’ve traveled far and wide,
met few who I consider wise,
but this man,
is one of three,
who I consider devastatingly potent,
in the area of sagacity…

he just knows.

And when you complement that knowledge,
With an unwavering determination,
To be nothing other,
Than himself,
You find a prince…

I am thankful,
For whatever forces have crossed our tangled paths,
Because he is one man,
Of three,
Of billions,
Who I trust implicitly,
To whom I listen,
To whom I love like a brother,
Like a part of myself.

He knows…
A righteously regal element of the universe as I know it…
It’s a shame I don’t know his formula,
Cos if I was king,
I would kill everyone, plant his seed, and grow it…

Its when I look at the reaction to this man,
Of mainstream strangers,
That I hate this world…

Because he has more worth to what every decent creature has ever fought for,
Than a million of the clones,
A million of the sheep,
A million of those who need to be told how to exist,
A million of those who despise the Individual,
A million of those who are scared of their selves…

Fuck them,
Love him….
I do…

cut all suspect connections…

October 23, 2008

I thought this raft was made of feathers,
But now I see, after a storm or three,
That its made of wood,
Im doing what I want,
What my heart craves,
Not what I should…
The cave is tidy,
My mother is at war with me
but my lady and friends adore me,
And I feel good…

I was a wild child,
I saw life as it is, at a young age,
I hoped it was more,
But I couldn’t see it,
Which is why I seeked a sage…
While I battered these keys,
Ran pens dry on this page…

Born out of something other than love,
But not quite hate,
I was taught to distrust,
But seek trust,
When I was just a nipper…
By the man who now,
I want to visit,
Pour gasoline over his body,
Then take a clipper….
Light the fuel,
Watch him burn,
Watch him take his turn….
Gain the revenge that I yearn…

There is war in my blood,
There are demons in my veins,
Ive learned, as my past has revealed itself,
To stop reacting to the pains,
That erupt in my soul,
As frequently, as it rains…

But they remain there,
And one day I will be faced with a foe,
Who will bear the brunt,
Of all my woe,
They will be left bleeding, probably dead,
While the people close to me scream ‘JUST GO’


I know nothing,
But I call myself wise.
I hate people who betray those close to them,
But I am constantly telling myself lies…

Because I want perfection,
Though my mind knows it don’t exist,
If my heart was as aware of the world as my psyche,
I would take the sword from work and cut my wrist…

I can count on half of one hand,
Those I have found whose love is true,
Maybe its best for me to cut all suspect connections,
Spread my wings, take flight, seek out fertile soil and start anew…

SOmetimes I feel foul…

October 23, 2008

Sometimes I feel foul,
I feel like closing myself down,
Turning the dan tap OFF to all but those whose idea of Respect is a mirror of my own.
Because by allowing others to turn my tap,
Brings nothing but anguish,
And the suggestion that I am too open, to too many…

Maybe my Self would be better served by being quiet,
By slinking out of the limelight,
Into the shadows,
Where I can dwell without intensity,
But also,
Without ugly drama.

Im not looking for the tranquility of a tree,
I am the eye of a storm,
The deafening aural rhythm of a million Spartans marching,
It is where my spirit takes me,
It is what my spirit creates,
It is where I belong.

But to accompany this war cry of vitality,
A heart which acts like its never been hurt,
Like its not learned a damned thing,
About people,
About life.
About pain.

That is my problem.
That is my cross to bear.

I’m che Guevara in mind,
Bambi in heart.

So where do I go***
With whom,
Is it safe to share
All that I am,
All that I crave,
All that I bear***

October 23, 2008

Juventus v Real Madrid. Player Ratings.

Commendable goal celebrations. Whereas his superior, Saint Buffon claws at the ball with the tenacity of a pitbull, the former Gunners reserve has a worrying tendency to punch…However, as his punches generally shift the ball to near the halfway line, on this count, I can only criticize his distribution, because obviously its harder to direct a punch than it is to catch the ball and throw it to a team-mate. Hardly at fault for the goal, but nonetheless, his performance didnt merit praise. Competent yet disconcerting: 6,10.

Wonderful to see the christian crusader back in action. An indomitable presence in the air, solid on the deck. Maintained his marking duties quietly but comfortably. The defence, centrally speaking, looked impregnable with Legro alongside the awe inspiring Chiellini. Shame he had to leave the fray at half time; we were more suspect as soon as Mellberg replaced him. A steady 7,10.

A collosus. Devastating in the tackle, often executing inch perfect lunges when any miscalculation would lead to a one on one with Manninger, which means GOAL. He grows in stature with every game and I have no doubts suggesting that he is set to become one of the finest centrebacks on this planet…How he would fare against the Venusians, is another matter…but for earthly consideration, he is the rock upon which the new Juve must be built. Impressive throughout, 9,10.

Lacking support from Marchionni, the czech scumbag made some useful forages forward, mainly in the first half. His positional play and tackling is acceptable, but his lack of decent distribution and pace make me feel that he must be replaced if we are to regain our place as one of europe’s greatest teams. COmpetent, though technically inept, 7,10.

His crossing was wretched, tackling suspect, and lack of stele in the will palpable. Must be replaced. And soon…A typical, 4,10.

Seems a shadow of his Aston Villa incarnation. Off the pace, constantly worried, essentially unfit to wear the bianconeri shirt. He didnt cost a penny, and it shows. 5,10.

He is a beast. And I adore him. Every tackle he made could have resulted in serious injury for himself, his team-mates and his foes. He knows no caution. His only mode is Beserker. Cut through the Madrid attack and midfield like a chainsaw through baby flesh. Such was his desire to battle that he crunched Marchisio, who will now be out of action for four weeks. His passing is improving as is his composure, but his game is all about Seek and Destroy, not flair or creativity. As easy to pass as entering a rabbit hole covered by the hind of a ravenous grisly bear. Outstanding, 10,10. Man of the Match.

slowly finding his feet in the side. Demonstrated admirable technical prowess, providing the ball from his own half which led to the delightful del piero strike for 1-0. He looks like a potent cocktail of menace and guile. Shame Sissoko mauled him…8,10.

Displayed admirable energy for a veteran, though its clear that his star is now fading fast. Its about time that Giovinco was given the left midfield berth. The only case for Pavel remaining there is that he is more robust than the wonderkid…But the team isnt lacking robustness, its lacking flair, which leads me to wonder why exactly Ranieri is persisting with the czech wolfman. He laid on the second goal for Amauri, but other than that, looked vibrant yet lacking ingenuity. Credit must be given for his efforts as a central midfielder after Marchisio’s unfortunate collision with Sissoko. Still, that isn’t a combination I would like to see again, so lets hope that Poulsen, Zanetti or even Tiago regains fitness soon. a nostalgic 7,10.

Anonymous. Distribution poor. Should be shot. As expected, 3,10.

Useless at this level. And in this form, I doubt he would make the Gillingham starting XI…a criminal 2,10.

Del Piero-
The juve talisman rolled back the years to score the splendid opener. His technique remains world class but his ageining legs are crying out to be replaced. Inneffectual at free kicks and corners. But for that goal, which was a scorcher, 8,10.

Fought hard, often appearing in his own half in order to help the midfield and defence. Deserved his goal, on workrate alone, but overall, as an attacking tooth he was more grinder than incisor. Room for improvement, 7,10.

Not long to impress, but forced Madrid to remember, at a stage when they were swarming the Juve half like locusts on crystal meth, that they had to defend. Clearly unfit, but encouraging to see him back in action because he always causes the opposition problems when he plays, and he knows where the goal is. a cameo, but still worth 7,10.