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weened on Hollow impressions.

wherever did it truly begin Here?… the holiday begs the question of what is necessary to do to scare ourselves out of the highly-coveted standard which does strain to indeed encapsulate us in the pool of animal traits used as the human resources from ages ago beyond the old darkness, for some of us this ‘day of the dead’ is an articulation of whatever meaning can be personally derived from that loved one now gone and passed away into that particular state where all genes and thoughts are as one again with their separation to come as with the next saints in taking over the programming, and this is the presently-maintained awareness left to us in the wake of open tragic haste to feel the ways we have to feel in order to express the changes as they stick to all of us in a consciously and sometimes continuous method on this oblivious merry-go-round that has taken advantage of the precarious woe that is sanity in all its’ hopeless motion as it sways helpless on the dance floor like another brash idiot with a distant expression on their face… the ghosts mutinous seem to come alive but merely as the hologram relies on replayed thought as through the prism of memory with the multitude of souls as the projected and guiding lights protruding from the horizontal plunder overall this way, a dismantled system still in function as though nothing has gone on where manic midgets masquerade and steal some bits of candy all night before the razorblades were replaced, or least they did once long ago when there were still scary things out on display for all to see brought into bright lights suddenly from some shadowed niche like a surprise the audience cannot take all at once from beyond the screened off land where imaginary dealings were made just a strange nightmare away from a reality safe though scary from a more mental place nowadays analyzed to death… it is difficult to separate the high ritual from the artful mockery of the magical rites made real in this world based from creative thought structure unless it is rooted in homespun wisdom that comes through the organic transmitter from the ages long since past us, reminders of the suspicious place from which we all came though need not be ashamed to say such things as they do reveal the honest soul behind the masks that scare out the breath, but we are not Here right now for that are we?… this reading thing perceived is always based upon the unique interpretation through symbols you see in this ideal electronic format where all my thoughts and feelings are opened up for all minds to interpret, i give you that chance by allowing/ writing any of this to happen, but i shall revert now back to the actual reason this entry exists… recognition of the exit/ entrance of dead things into our world at once while our drained image of the day-to-day affairs of destiny compel us to move as though nothing significant were occurring at all, but the change of ages brings forth a greater appreciation of this life like all things Here gnawing at our brains from inside the insidious disease the conflict between these humane and inhumane beliefs on fringes of edges at work on the majority of us as they continue to cycle through the creative humanity replayed as human drama to be witnessed later on through painstaking fog of patience, too few ages will view in one lifetime that which is quickly becoming askew and diminishing altogether as the line to cross when thinking upon the thresholds of deistic delight beyond pearly gates attached by cloudy motion into heavens unseen except by those chosen of insight to manage some new life away from the darkened attributes of decadent sainted fakes worshiped as avatars of defense for personal idolatry unregulated at large… we allow our tribe of humanity to become an unruly mess because for the longest period of history we have let ourselves be told what needs to be done by trusting the fallible authority of Man instead of the courtesy of human responsibility we all share a capacity for deep within… as we are human, we can enter into superstitious beliefs that send tricky or false impressions to us in raw tidbits that are difficult to ignore, but our ghosts are always co-opted into being the weak tormentors found everywhere when there is a terrible profit to be had cheaply Here trying to keep humanity yolked to these old ideas for the exploitation is murder… to misbelieve that there are scarier things than US going bump in the night as we all seem to act as revealed from a childish behavior underneath the layer of pompous seriously-eyed affectations, but the red rum drips down slanted backwards on the door leading us out, out of these petty rude rituals castigating the whole of humanity for a handful…

Thanks, khet.