out of Context;
‘we are glorified caretakers that abuse our privileges too often to take notice of ourselves, but the mind police are Here too, trying to winch gratuitous gluttony of the beast we have diseased into existence… too little too late, as their too overcautious excuses clutter the headroom needed to get around in this expanding lounge space where the alien meets the animal struggling to make a human resemblance, a human connection so as not to be truly left alone, every performer wants an audience after all… not all of us can give the expected response that our society of standards requires of us, but instead we rebel against the grain of the indoctrination, compelling us to eat the same shit…’
out of Context;
‘the game is afoot, my dear witness… there is abundance in the fields of our imagination, but we cater only to those retarded minions who fool themselves into thinking they have the power to stop it if they want to, however that is the lure in which to reel them all in… the doomed have their many uses, but generally are not all that smart until the time comes to learn, even morons can swing the cat by the tail… the siren serene as howls grow more unrelenting still, and the pigs take all that they can get and more until they split, very few people rarely ever talk with a grown-up voice… that balancing equation is too wrong of man as instrument of fate…’
out of Context;
‘don’t forget, what you see is what you get, and sometimes not even then because of how fucked our system truly is by now… the discretion seems too much to tolerate, a judgment call too damn wicked to retrieve from the dark hallow halls of power without the proper resolve of brown on the tip of your nose, and the idiot madness that comes with working the different angle into your dragging ethic of focus and limitless possibility… the culture will try its damnedest to rub your nose in the filthy mess we all have contributed to in order to make you think that only one person could ever be responsible for the disasters intermittent throughout the state of our present world, but these are all lies and propaganda…’
out of Context;
‘there are discrepancies in this story, the rebellion is cut short by the genes of the lurking manipulators whose only reason to bring children into this plane is the creation of a scapegoat, and to inflict a sense of “world” order upon the more inferior of classes… what lies we are fed and oblige to continue to believe even as those ideals are proven wrong to follow closely… even as the naive lamb is run to the slaughter by the heartless mob mentality called ‘society’, there are tears of joy that conflict with the rage and anger at betrayal from the hands of leaders because they wish the changes to push themselves to the forefront of the human consciousness, and set about to cryptically terrorize and cannibalize the remains of what justice we ever had…’
out of Context;
‘libido taken for granted… our culture makes us rodent-like, scrambling into the dark whenever we have a thought that isn’t a standard, that sudden potential taken too far… what keeps one sane amidst all the wrong-doing?… our modern porno-graffiti subduing the good orgones gone bad, easily repressing or denying the lowest common denominator of human sexuality, but with no other reality than the expression of every feel good aspect there could ever have been like a pack of nerves raging to hard-on… there is no way to really capture and try to convince anyone that what you are doing has a purpose, especially among the fascist hordes breeding all around you, and following the popular chanting hymns…’
out of Context;
‘the television hive glows with the undiscovered foes on the inside disposing of the reasons to live, hording the few pieces of real beauty to the elite ivory towers in the distance too far to reach from Here, but just close enough for their tainted words to lure us off-course… distraction is the name of the game as the entertainment peels back layers of conscious awareness for sedative delight, and the substantial abuse of the system that retains the sensitive prophet for use as a figurehead tactic has outlived its uses as maniacal propaganda machine, the war has finally come into our minds instead of our doorsteps because the last great frontier is the involuted introversion of this human virtuality plugged right into the next world… crazy from the heat of this strain and disciplined edge…’
out of Context;
‘some people fit the role of the parent, but many others just breed to get the sexual satisfaction out of their systems, while a few others take themselves out of the procreative loop that our flesh invokes once we reach maturity… does nature evolve along with its inhabitants?… people in business get too complacent when things go right, thinking they will always go correctly, and the boss gets just as deluded as anyone else underneath their power in the hierarchical blame game… whosoever fucks up first becomes the pet scapegoat for the rest of the group, but only inasmuch as that person become a pariah or ostracized by the group…’
out of Context;
‘with the absorption of relevant information through this cultural filter of heavenly matrices there would be that instrument of enlightenment and empowerment that the truly honest would crave to savor… to fill the void with no more saints or sinners, but to embrace the whole parts of something that was started before us, we are just the next in a long lineage of potential prophets… trained by a militant and fearful category of socioeconomic restraint, it has always deferred power to those that choose to wield it in broad arcs to disguise their own actions to retain these material treasures for themselves while at the same time leading others to believe their motions just and righteous, but the fallacy is in how much our trust has been given up to these temporary charlatans…’
out of Context;
‘you can see it pisses me off into the barest threads of nonsense what we repeat and leach and die for off of the central horrible (whore able) affliction distressing the conscious whole, as the sharks and opportunists scramble for the blood like red jewels shooting out of the veiny little ley lines networking along our arms and legs, and the sinister singing fling of the fist into the face of another fellow human being strikes me with painful distrust for our own push and thrust that we might somehow know better for no other reason than what we think we own… we object to this grand operating directive of ‘kill thy neighboring states’ because what will be left when a black horizon glows with death…’
out of Context;
‘if it is not then let us see what will become of the both of us because time is of the essence and the shortness of breath is just the first of many symptoms in this ramshackle machine we are skeletons within, and we all go right for the throats of each other in spite of this linkage between that irreversibly leaves us horribly bound together with a ghastly mood subjecting the others to this bastard entertainment before the whole civilization, there are no rules inside the head except that which you let in… giving permission before the disqualified peanut gallery of woes and foes all chained together in anatomic purge of sensory data that will master us before the day is come, as one by one we all crawl the surface of this earthen hovel…’