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Chemical Machines

original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton

excerpt; ‘just standing here in empty space
transcending beyond sex and race
stand in the light, fade into night
tripping through being a chemical machine…’

the carnage of pop.

out of Context;
‘pop implies that a cataclysm of conformity will bake us inside of our skulls in a way that we shall never really recover from.’

Contra-dicked.

out of Context;
‘We are the beasts locked up in a zoo of ill repute… The gatekeepers are truly afraid for their living minds, and let the organic portals channel their impossible odds somewhere else…’

the coundensing of rhyme. the riddle divine.

Nine times…nines times, I have fought for these threads. the clerk nodded, absentmindedly.
seemed to agree with every word I said at-large. clearing his throat, he calmly replied cautiously.
What trouble would you have, sir? my defiant stand made him quite clearly affected, a silent stand.
the lone vagrant diatribe cautiously relents into the darkness of his forgotten intellect, a swine standing. there where a man just stood, relenting against a painful system infecting him. his twisting made leaps into the insecure nature of impact, as the crutches fell away to the floor, and he faced thunderous approach into a concrete surface. the flames ignited through a human anger flew and spewed to the floor. the scream at the end left no doubt at the intrigue in the wake of the apparent. Did you like that, cripple? he was not afraid to …

calamity of the (god-app)errant.

I know not what is left of me, but obviously there is a pillaging going on somewhere that I am not involved in, where pride for oneself means nothing to the mediocre mob mentality of macabre and obscene dreams… where is this noise coming from that emits a small buzzing from the skull and forehead, this thing that traipses around my mind like a voice from some far-off place where no sway is held by a ruler or guiding system of measurement at all…

when cold gets hot.

out of Context;
‘not a necessary force or implication of doomed appeal, we are merely Here for the interests that we may choose to take upon ourselves, and few will ever choose to see past the brick wall of their own emotional development. myself included at the most detrimental times of season it seems…’

collisions into responsibility

…and flowing from the night sky with grace and progress…the daydream of the habitual liar, and source of the extremity that was, the childhood impulse at large and streaking with that blazing sunset…what have you when you came here in the first place?…

the crass insight.

styles and fads are the conditioning that surrounds our occasional instances requiring our presences in forms channelling instinct into the furnace, like some purifying extinction process that needs to be, and the reborn thing is the product in waiting. For some individuals, it is even like a baby or child in waiting, and their wombs are ready to indulge in the experience of procreation.

are we all completely useless?

out of Context;
‘We all have a part to play with a role to fill, but we do not need to be so reluctant with our senses. They always fill the spaces before and after us, and our awareness extends beyond anything referred to as time or space, drifting though stabilizing the greater whole of the essential universe. Screaming through the darkness of dust…’

CaRnI-mAn

original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton

excerpt; ‘He wore a whip and a coat with tails,

While the wicked clowns held boards with nails

I arose, naked and dirty, and screamed at them with weak authority

“He turned and gazed right at me,

And said, ‘Everything’s alright, sonny

It’s time to meet your fate,

At the hands of brutal hate’