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the Fools of April

out of Context;
‘to create the eggs of fate that juggle and shake with Faberge flourish in order to seem worth much more than the human cringe that makes this drama reach out in exciting inclusion of endings, the golden rush is on to find more of the most suitable ways of sorting out what to profit from in light of askew perceptions as turning into aliens when the gravity pulls their consciousness off this plane even there on the wings are also too many couched in the rain waiting for a chance to get into what was once mine too just to merely give away, and hoping to find those human centers…’




Meandering madNess aFoot

out of Context;
‘hundreds of years pretty much soaking into the popular mystique of culture as many of the myths reinterpreted by the profits that resemble the signs for followers baptized in the rivers of money that have sprung out of the pools of blood and sweat and tears spent to be funneled into the cold hard cash as it appears like fate in the bleak and harsh landscapes taken for granted in difference of opinion and glad-handing the truth, to be groped like a sleeping beauty in a room sedated to be a person invoked as interpretive oracle to the wizened pervert’s whirled and suffering cesspool which calculated risks have endeavored to fixate and dismiss into the screaming of rage in the background where the money is used as tragic filter by which the state draws its lines…’




the Ghost in the Face

out of Context;
‘even under the realization that nothing forever lasts in this odd world as one permanent form, this emotional erosion via the winds of change and smoking embers of the pillaged ruins of our ancestor spirits transforms us day by day into these physical beings as we try to become something more than this… there is never a permanent midnight just as there can be no permanent daylight as the tides turn much like how the waves ebb and flow, pieces of this grand cosmic puzzle…’




New Formatting in this Abyss.

out of Context;
‘those hidden facets of the real apply, we cherish the products more than the people who work breaking their minds and bodies to produce those goods so prized today… the worker and the work are not separate, but part of the greater whole which relies on us to be the go-between for the energy to manifest into something more than just dream, as all worlds link and quantify the data bleeding through all points of reality not just our own myopic spin on this subtle harmony making us saints and demons outside of the invested interest of the other forces which couldn’t care less for us… we are the human debris wiping the streets clean…’




Little Bored Fauntleroy.

out of Context;
‘retract from these strange and excitedly shallow people, and the ideas that they try to spread like some kind of low intensity germ that slowly begins to bring others with wealth around to their purview of rationalization… the Little Lord pandemic hit in the late 1880’s, and the denizens of this time period were so in love with the carrot waving idea that they too could be a prince in a pauper’s clothes that literate madness the equivalent of Potter-mania today became a show-stopper as the clothes made the young man, the idealized form of boy-king turned into a fashion statement back then… the prince and the pauper, show stopper, babbler-dabbler self-confessed criminal…’




Sothic Cycles and Illuminated Fears.

out of Context;
‘our destiny is not so easy to make real in practice with all the modern distractions pulling in at one’s mental and physical resources all the time in this on-off universe of hemorrhagic cosmic confusion… are we god, do we worship a god, what is god?… but these are only a few random questions that are in there on the parallel timing cycles on repeat for us all to hear over the loudspeakers like the modern fabled parable or mantra that will take us to heaven if we trust in the message without figuring it out, over however many lifetimes it takes to learn the lessons…’




Frustrated perversion.

out of Context;
‘quaint rational sources of explanation are not enough for the truly innovative to advance the rest of us past the moronic oblivion we seem destined for by allowing others to lead with such authority, it seems wholly insane to my senses to give those bitches the power to control the many with such strength of conviction and confidence that heroes previously needed, but then again the demons inviting the disaster creep delicately through the human forums easily when no one sees their face because the influence needs a disguise in order to manipulate so many of us at once… influence in the media allows for that “mask” to be flexible and tight enough to sometimes keep out the leaks of disdain and impatience for humanity instead of a fiery compassion that would need no masks to hide…’




Occupation Fantasyland.

out of Context;
‘the atrophied wealth of the dictators managing the imaginary assets of the people like game pieces on a curved board floating in the dark, and it is the many faces of the people and not the laws enforced by those propaganda mind police lurking behind billboards and commercial screens when they appear on the long drive through life in general private to the point of the closed-off minds of conservative dysfunction as it has bought-in and souled-out to the system… for the generations that have passed as our collective minds more ensnared by this stiff visual encapsulated by an oil-mad world where plastics abound…’




this Fictional heart.

out of Context;
‘redneck cultural terror fetish haunting the various tribes that have come together Here and at once, but not for the show only to grow with the experience and intertwine with the gibbous moon shining down on those who but glimpse this… the magic of the carpet ride demands that the time machine be broken because the alarm is too much to wake the dreamer out of fits as a tendency towards the somnambulate sleeping standing up for what is write, but silence rails against the disused and unfathomed on this phantom parallel we seek to describe Here although we have no necessary words to use in this improvisational cryptic script, the casual Luddite perhaps or some other anachronistic dandy in charge of nothing else but one’s own life… a poetic diatribe that eats the mind…’




Fodder, suck, on the unholy coast.

out of Context;
‘lustful portrait of descriptive gesture at some virtual length and leisure, bodies of thought and feeling combined describe the experience ever expanding the functional art of adventure, and how is it that we can project and commit such appalling acts onto each other without ever having met at first?… the faked authorities try to restrict what they don’t know, and all “true” knowledge comes from books and orders and other ideal remedies for this chaos filled with potential all surrounding us, you have to learn defense against the dark arts on your own as no teachers care long enough to look you in the eyes as a human being… giving up much for the most mediocre known… the manufactured perk that comes with the playground as we move up in levels like the games we play…’