Black Rebel Motorcycle Club Ask iAN * Happiness Is a Warm Gun, Mama

Ask iAN

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Ask iAN * Happiness Is a Warm Gun, Mama



Thank You for the Question Mr. Claude Bawls


That's a tough'n, I tell ye...shucks...I just pray i don't
blow my ass out tryin' to ansa this one...I ain't too big a boyfan of the olde' Happiness...i rather am thankful
for my half fucked state of being and am blessed to even have that much
to piss happy about...

I don't know if we were put on this planet to be happy.
I don't rightly know if there is such a thing as being truly content due to the fact
that we live in a constant and ever faster continuum.  Life to me looks
much like a makeover
with a hatchet to the head
at the finish line.

You are born with your weenie flipped out in the witch doctor's spotlight
and slapped silly till you draw breath like an insipid fish tailing poorly...and then dumped into a wash basin*
scrubbed like a mini mule
tossed into a clothique bundle
and powdered
and sent home with people
who have an empty bank account
purple food
furniture that may as well have been
sussed out by colour blind
blind people
and the first thing you taste
is a nipple your Dad or some rat bastard
has been gnawin' on for over 3 months's balmy
and reeks of hand me down yogurt
and everybody that visits coos over you like Elton John
tangled up in a 15 man fucklock isn't pleasant sir!

Then as you a truck put together in a factory
they put you together
pen in pocket
pocket watch in pocket
notebook in hand
a pair of horn rimmed glasses preceeding your already
bulbous and horrified eyes
they slap some silly loafers over your toes
teach you to tuck your pussy in
behind pink or baby blue nylon curtains
then zip up your handsome skirt or slacks
as they lick their thumb and smudge it across your cheek
to wipe off the ice cream traces
of 5 minutes ago when they took away
the ice cream bowl from your paws
and told you no more's time to go to school
so you can be ready for the ARMY
in 15 years time.

With every snowflake of joy
with every sniff or pinch of happiness
there is a dev'lish punchline waiting to knock the air from out ya
like a bully to the belly on the playground.
Happiness was rigged from the get'go
for the Godz that be
wouldn't have it, hear?

Don't you know by now that your pain brings joy
to the powers that be?

In School.  You sit down on a tac.  It pierces your buttocks and sends a bolt of white lightning
to the inner most softy loft in your brain and this my friend, is where laughter is born again.

Your happiness on this planet is short lived.
It is like a kodak flash bulb bursting.
It comes in slashes.
It ranks right up there with Luck, and being Right.
Some people give me hassle about how i always think I am Right...well there are two kinds of right, bub.
The kinda right when you pick the winning Lotto numbers
and the kind of right when you were pretty sure you had breast cancer from feeling that lump in yer tit last Tuesday.
I am the latter don't hassle me, hasslehoff.

Happiness is a butterfly born for an afternoon who has a date with a goodyear tire at 6pm
Happiness lives as long as any regular orgasm
Happiness in length is the size of a burning cigarette
it is nothing like loss
which last a life time.

Happiness has a price on it's head like Jesse James.*
True happiness on Earth is other people's cruelty towards their fellow man...
Your happiness is a snowflake on a windowpane on the last day of Winter....take in all that you can get...
it isn't selfish to gather seasonally for your posture and endurance.

The Rose was never so rudy and young as it was by the time it got old and died young again....and other horse shit of that calibur...

If we could sow Joy into our flesh as we are able to be tattoo'd by woe, then we would be well off...but we can't.
What we can do
is dismantle
and it's half dead brother


comes from only one source
one watering hole
one fountain

The fountain of giving
rather than receiving...

letting go from that inner most place
deep in the trestles of the chamber of your heart...

allowing vulnerability
somewhat sacrificing your joy for other's joy
and in that act
giving birth to your own Joy, contentness, or in other words....Your own Happiness.

When you live on the path of the giving live in a state of joy...for life on Earth itself is but merely a state...of mind, being, dying, is nothing and everything
all at once.

Do not be sad because you will someday perish
be thankful that you once lived and fed an animal or consoled another in grief
don't be sad that beauty gets the short end of the stick
for beauty goes on forever
trapped in space
hidden in pink and purple flowers
proud as a quiet tombstone that didnt want to rule the world
but only wanted to inhale it's crash of oxygen
and quinch it's thirst for life with the majick that is
simple waters

If you are glad that you are means your heart is real.
It's ok to cry in the middle of a parade
in the guts of a lame party
or standing alone outside under the stars for no reason
nobody holding your hand....

There is joy in sorrow and vice versa....

Perhaps you are truly happy and just don't know it...and how do you keep it
or hold on to it
and tame it or find it's rythmn?

You Don't.

You ride this glistening wave of Life
you bask in the temporary sweetness of Life
in the shower
swallowing honey
goodbye kisses
a taste of TROY

A hint from the blood of a shadow figure Jesus

a kitten claw softer than all the tall grass dreaming on the farm....

I spoke to the Dead the other morning and they told me that they were happier on the other side...and i asked them if they missed the air and the water and the plants and the smiles...

and they replied....

we are all of those things now

and More.


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