‘poet, as dreamer and artist, takes the simple cosmic gestures to heart as yet another lock and key formulaic state residing within each of us even as our states of being sure of this concept are divided in complimentary symptoms to beat back this systemic infection… fascist age learning curve purging of the hatred and all that attending ignorance that has us pointing raping fingers in political correctness at each other to better our worst enemies of course not the ones within ourselves making others into victims in oblivious pursuits to individual happiness’
out of Context;
‘those congested trivialized tidbits of information at our fingertips typed away into a beginning as a digital culture… we know not what future beings we shall become to appear as though we will shed the human chrysalis if we choose the right steps that shimmy in place in front of us as aligned to change reality for the truly better instead of worse than it is in the Now as it all distorts our perceptions, a selfish glory possessed by a sorting out of others’ messes for them without evaluating one’s own mistakes and karmic debt traveling through the rough draft we all try to catch in our own ways…’
out of Context;
‘taken to the gallows we are innocence of the repressed disposed of and oppressed the presence we have taken as image of death angels with grinning skulls and draped in a black vast expanse moving forever outward by this essence trying to recycle through real parts of these consciousnesses… left as maps for any who can read them like blinking stars in the braille of outer space sensed as signs of life lighting the darkened empty in strings of illumination taken too far to remind some of their stardust beginnings…’
out of Context;
‘whacked-out fiends, proliferating this ablyss without enough sense to rub together to create solid thoughts or valid schemes that might in this lifetime resemble dreams to look forward to without intruding onto others’ feet to do so, but even if this isn’t a trick used to catch us gasping as we grasp for some reason and logic like air in a breath caught reeling in our fears all in one second of reflection as though it were all destined for us to suffer through hell in each other… consequence in the nothing…’
out of Context;
‘breaking some obscure boundary, the horizon line at once seen in the distance by the naked eye while the artist inside tries to achieve a new view of these complex designs as they move through the nude reality unanchored by life, but scavenging tricks of the tragic age massive with movement as the agonistic bodies disenfranchised with this subdue of the hemorrhagic imagination calling into response ability the blood and the gore in understanding what magic it is we are creating…’
out of Context;
‘lost in the heat… a whole bitter affair made from a compromise burned and blackened as the slackening of skin is wrinkling from the faded gears grinding the burnt out down into oblivion sure as the day is long, an oblong dawning to approach mourned as work alarms us into motion again with the sun righteous rising too fast to abort its’ quaking path we stand in front of and beg to differ altering dimensional fissures like poetry as the mind’s eye reaches out to observe…’
out of Context;
‘lost to all these other forces at work as their truths come first amongst this more studious tedium steady as some stronger than average bonds are created between those various selves inside people… the shaman of shame have spread their servicing disease far and wide with the fellow peddlers of a mystery too trivial and specific to be mistaken for wisdom bought and sold to whoever is randomly willing to fall for the tricks and the gimmicks, anchored to the decisions we make by the drugs we take as the fools we become stay kids all along in our lives trying by force to control this ideal “growing-up” hole we are buried into…’
out of Context;
‘the people pining for a truth that makes sense amidst all those wholly bankrupt and deteriorated taking their cues from the wasted who feel no one else worthy enough to have faith unless invested in material gain, a Midas and Judas myth made one and the same by the blurring lines affixed by the expert opinions of an idiot misogynistic patriarchy shooting us into oblivion if we stick to their traditions of hate that cast the women aside… this sickness from within as the insects of psychology infect us with doubt…’
out of Context;
‘left to our own devices to understand the old universe in its’ immensity as it utterly shifts with internal change ever-constantly to shape us and the progress of life and consciousness on more than just our world, and i see the name i was born into with the parental clones manipulating sets of genes they’ve both worn out their welcome to control as juvenile rebellion pushes me to show them just how much i am not like their flawed beliefs or perceptions by taking a new name and making those decisions that reveal a grown child still buried under whatever expectations adulthood has made sane to us…’
out of Context;
‘long trailing off into the man-made horizon now a sea as each person is a pilgrim in life’s pilgrimage toward true glories unknown until the journey ends for those heroes involved who had taken the steps with a courageous sight beyond even faith as resort of support quietly moving eye of the storm when struggle sunders all around like pendulous blades grinding the meat through the machine… we all want the good dreams at our feet to whatever whim there is at a beck and call waiting to perceive something real beyond the shitty feelings…’