a Ghoulish firmament.

trying to place the faith i do have into the creative distillation process in my own hands, as i am the wizard and the warlock making art for art’s desire to be freed from this dark matter stagnancy becoming the amber that humbles most things from becoming something greater than what might apparently be there in a reality that harbors at the surface level, but icebergs are more than the small peak breaking past any waves of submerged information in motion… we are all walking collectives of soul energy adapting to the mechanics of the spiritual thought forms that meme their way inside to fill the wholes, the wisdom is dug up by the white Man to be sold to his more ignorant brethren which includes most of the world population, but we’ll not dip into body counts Here as that would rudely distract from the point of this inquiry of a mystical nature, though i am no psychic as you must be forewarned of this before we get too far into this particular trip to defy head space… the art is product as the artist is producer sitting inside a seat looking on the dark vast of Self to witness an internal miracle of revolution through an analyst’s lens, cold and empirical to some extent as the science prevents meddling with the results as a good portion of the lesson building up to the structure, but our thorough analyses are incomplete and crude at best as we still cannot conceive of what it means from the past to take a cause from the effect… as inconceivable as the butterfly finding its way into the microscope of its own will like moth to flame from the burning candle by hand-written page ages into the past where definitions muddy for the inexperienced, ‘i am only my master’s puppet’, and this is what you could say to yourself requite your affections for a system gone flawed in the middle of a new age that no one seemed to observe the change of until it was too late… a space-aged chamber pot filled with the dung of different creeds daft enough to be believed in a lasting impression upon the masses as truth wears on unquestioned tradition goes on unchallenged until the timing is optimal for a hysterical reversal of fortunes, the fool becomes the magician as this polar shift takes the cake out of the game completely revealed as the haberdasher becomes mad as a hatter as it comes time to evoke the chaos from out of its weary darkness to roil forth to the land of the feed and the fined as well as the freed and the confined delayed only by their stupid stays of execution relying on others to do the dirty work that has to be done for them… too sheltered by the understanding that it is just good for us despite living like animals on the fringe of the nowhere waiting and making those somethings that happen like swarming flies around the dead bloated corpse of a system that has become far too infested to be relied upon with certainty, when something of worth actually happens Here the flies will scatter and lay their eggs in other moist pockets where the space between lives is yet full buried under the skin of this human thing we find ourselves within by odd comparison to the other animals as in the proposed ideal “kingdom” of beasts and their more advanced counterparts, but not everyone has the destination certainly set in their mind’s eye continuous and crystal-clear projected forward to follow one’s greatest desire whether consciously known of or not as the path unfurls underneath one’s feet… the gift that keeps many unwrapping for ages to come in search of wisdom and absolutes that each finds on their own each to their own path as a rider on the storm whether by foot or by wheel or by boat, each as a wanderer that keeps a range of vision that allows for the abrasive to go ignored as when it is wielded as a weapon against said wanderer as this is not blissful ignorance, but this psychic shielding is as yet another manifestation of the extra-conscious energies that CAN not always WILL as fate has many fickle fingers at its disposal in order to change aspects of spectrum from love to hate and back again as well as all the other extremes as they taint reality in their speculative fiction on what should be and how it should manifest properly…

Thanks, khet.

Posted by :\_khet on November 8th, 2011 in blogging, g for Galere..., my art & dreams, rants & raves, subdued wisdom. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.