my art & dreams Archives - Page 39 of 63 - All The Wrong Topics dot com

the 33rd Degree

out of Context;
‘the corrupt adapting a master plan for mastery over the entire fucked populace of tired and worn-down threats unevenly able to stab in the dark when it seems the merest pinprick of light shines through to blind our eyes from apparent truths yet revealed as reviled spew to chundering down one’s chin, and clogging the oily flesh as sweat and grease build up to toxic levels while reality keeps spilling out germs and verses to either infect or entrain the docile domesticate human massive that begs to be servile to the fleas… these too appear as the dysfunctional nitwit to whose vigorous energies are trapped in other obnoxious pursuits forlorn lamenting to pervfection…’




Mozeltov Cocktail

out of Context;
‘seen through mismanaged pausing and waiting while the queue grows longer, and much like the lengthy snaking thing it is the skin of people shed one individuated cell after another as the lifetime has popped its own bubble for each growing being born Here of all places… the center of this disease which we have become very comfortable with each other continuing to blame all tomorrow’s parties for the idealized symptoms of today as it lurches…’




Empty Bottle, Loud Noise

out of Context;
‘the essence of what we truly ever wanted in these individual chases for some better conclusions, my multiple meaning phrases summon themselves through me as though i were channelling electric spirits like a radio or television or logging into a vast majesty inside the digital universe discovered behind these cold flat screens as they filter our wishes through to be visible in this reality, and the windows makes for a good moniker in branding 100th monkeys out of all of us as we wait in line to buy the software and all of its updates rabid with enthusiasm at this modern wonder…’




Strangers Have the Best Fiction

out of Context;
‘fetishistic idea of a lifestyle where one’s sleepy solid comfort is the standard bearer to which all others become shit, we the inferior are littered everywhere that no one wants to try looking because the grime clinging to our bodies is a social crime in these parts of the civility that hates us for who we are trying to be… nightmare of our life to think we are going no where or to a place that doesn’t want us as used and thrown down a waded piece of living trash outliving the abuse, with or without the crutches makes no real difference only in the eyes of a judgmental authority of whose dead soul only manifests in hateful intent to purge the system of its dreck…’




Badgering the Witless

out of Context;
‘the vast depths… is it safe?… not really… it never was even if you believe in all those myths because that machine is just as obsolete any more as the rust of the previous generations collapse and bury themselves like heads in the sand, and cringing cowardly as if appearing to yield, as though to allow the birth of a new strain of old worlds on mutant earth inhabited by actual hybrid creatures of worth beyond functional weight that requires to be served and protected like the swine whose self-assured fate rests upon the plate…’




enter the Funundrum…

out of Context;
‘a sphincter holding back the shitty for the stale and uncomplicated sheltering us all through youth, and a dark tide rising with the breaking conformity as leashing agent to keep the fear in check mated with the ritual wage kept by enslaved hands whose own energy moves the larger cyst’emic infection intact like a creeping death who plans to rule the earth someday… blistering the senses cultivated over too many those of the previous lifetimes to count accurately any more as the vibrations can get denser and denser…’




Duke Cocky…

out of Context;
‘the hammering of gods inside our heads won’t relent on the progress that sketches itself out as it surges forward to hit all the relevant points in forging the correction necessary to put others in their place… the fascist ones we are working against are reflecting the same energy that lifts and can make of the unsound whatever creatures we claim ourselves to be as a stalking and lethal movement takes over the minds of the serious and static who hold to killing, that urge to push the rest of this flaming wreck off the edge of an almost real cliffside drifting lost…’




Something This Way.

out of Context;
‘there are always going to be many battles and confrontations that appreciate a focused attention for the gaining involvement to evolve as social reconstruction urgency in a system of varying agencies in place to solve the woes we face each day, but that is what we are told all along in the trailing lines that lay the tracks to eventually facing the pain as the train of thought hits us square in the ways that make us think… the stink of what we really are bleeds through the thinnest of membranes to this world as a deep gratitude is more difficult to maintain than a sour attitude…’




Friction in Conviction

out of Context;
‘i propose the terms “cowardly” and “courageous” to now signify negative and positive in human speech respectively, and more so reflectively to allow our conscious minds to breathe when there is already more than enough of these cluttered points gathered together at this razor’s edge of thought space, it is where anything and everything can foment a reality from the ethers of nothing as we might perceive to “know” them with our scholarly senses at work…’




Oh, Not Us.

out of Context;
‘i stand up to rant my heart out with words cultivated from the mental dirt we all dig into facing an audience without fear, it is a temporary catharsis against the backdropping sounds and dim atmosphere of the places we fit as the design or location may hint with its’ own symbols and grounds as foundation for the drama unfolding, but this is how we create art that seems as to pull right off the pages before these very eyes that decide to see it all scattered in the pattern-seeking brain informing…’