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a Mass Hip Gnosis

forsaken, we have taken our time calling all operators out for unlimited minutes that never rollover for the royalty we came Here to collaborate with as high collusion to perceive the finer things in life with eyes unclouded, and a collection of refurbished souls and vessels interchanged for each other as the various collective ages move and progress processing the intertwined motives as they are born and raised with instinct of individually growing ideal of truth… we speak and we listen though very rarely are the two synchronous with one another outside of the speculative forum of the mind to which we all have access as primarily through our anatomy, i dare you to remain as unperturbed as my phrases defy your preconceived notions by condensing into this raw spastic flare for the original as mystical experiencing us in as much as we experience it, but our claims to the righteous state of mind allowing us to speak with condemning voice out to those elemental forces we cannot ever agree with in part because these programs of right and wrong have been telling us this false perception of wisdom… as one that recklessly aims to change everyone into the same forsaken and wretched being whose one goal is to serve those who should be serving us in a mechanical function to purge actual living into the void, as real wisdom has the tendency to service people through ideas rather than being served by other people whose own motives can be very drastically different to the status quo of society, and we are locked away sometimes for our particular stand taken to keep the mangy dark wolves acting as urgents of the system at bay with the magical combination of will and action to channel intent even further than one’s own doorstep… these manipulations are everywhere as there is no one system that rules over magical paradigms but instead share territory in the realm of these peculiar superstitions that precede the powerful truth that magic applies to life as it plays itself out everywhere, the definition of magic is what keeps us lined up where we kneel and follow the prayers of others who use such power to so define and demonstrate their supremacy as relevant to the woes of reality, but are disguised as the cruising lunatic fringe we are told to fight against as mocking display making out critically the rites to free oneself away from this culture that kills by ignorance… a terse harangue of assuming the worst case scenario for thrills only to apply the odd looping surge to one’s own practical version of reality while syphoning the negative affliction out of the wounds for its’ own good, to learn by experience and not just in hearing about it second-hand from some street thugs or goons who never wanted to know any better except by jumping straight into the fire, and not as though all of these ridiculous conversations about filth and doom and the endings that we prophesied soon how they were going to subsume the world with all of our worst traits… just as the idea of a roaring hot blaze is expected in the fireplace, we the untrusting do seem to put those well-armed negative assumptions in the out there at an arm’s length first in pushing back against the fickle fates that tickle and itch though as only the merest scratch is made seems to reach this trickle of essence, but the guise of the displayed seems easily is obeyed by the masses that want to trust that fate has designs for them whether truth or bluff stated to say that no one is worth the time or energy mocking a deep-rooted awkward tension to make this into anything anyway that we can and will… we are perilous in fighting the restricting compliments that scrape away with a dust storm strength the parts of us sticking out from the surface utilized and then abraded into dissolution, a disintegration of self through all means knowledge and the ancient motion too subtle to reveal like a covertly disclosed magic trick by one of the best magicians’ worst critics too aware of an audience who doesn’t care, but we cannot now suspend the disbelief forever above our heads like a totemic arrangement of ancestors now dead and gone from this world of mechanical animals trying like madness to meet those end goals handed down from a few faceless deities looking like men… confusing the contained separate individuals compressed into a mess below at street level though it looks so much like ants in their gyrations from above as in an airplane or through giant’s eyes, the gift of these amazing thrills from which adventure has been sent to humanity transmitted script through history by all the hands that are working without thinking as they are most gifted at grasping the hard truths to scribble down abuse, but it takes a certain type of mettle that is more than robotic or automatic cast in metal resetting those problematic habits that get the better of this stray humanity ever-fervent with its preoccupations hidden from the all-seeing glazed eye of an inane phantom menace high in the sky above a starry surprise of vast emptiness as a passive happiness looking in… this marvelous marble warbling on its own weak axis spinning oblivious to the traumas inflicted on the surface a distinct scarring process to scour the earth for all riches and resources to be used like pieces in a game of chance that cannot be won, only the lost seem really waver between following a righteous leader or their own sorrowful voice towards the light of enlightenment as defined by their own internal systems and experiences instead of some vacant and angry god made up to make humans betray each other over idiot power struggles, or is this just the idea that has been implanted in our heads for far too many generations now piled up one on top of another like layers of aged sediment or cement poured to cover over each of subsequent eras to level out where others will walk… taking our time to weave and warp steps…

Thanks, khet.