out of Context;
‘the culture we appear within is a casual standard by which we mark and measure our limitations and ability to move freely, contrasting the modernity of Now against previous ideas of what the future was to hold for its people when the right sacrifices were made, but we get trapped in sovereign themes of debt by following their rules of civility and not our own as time wanes between the violent mood swings of governmental and ethical classifications that batter us from one biased side to the next to reinforce the idea of futility embedded into the modern Mankind’s mindset by the now-televised subliminal control with demographic lines as the new statistical boundaries to measure general productivity and subservience to the degree that authority requires to keep us under watch like the human cattle we have become…’
out of Context;
‘the works of others perhaps seeming more alien to our own differences and tastes, but allowing access to the grand Akashic records of thought and feeling and mood and texture that are ever out there awaiting someone to achieve understanding as bliss and blessing among the blind and the comfortable, the ministrations of the elite class are siphoning more and more from what little authority we hold as the WholE sits slack-jaw and waiting for an oblivion to free us from our holding cell as death is a final fatal Mystery to behold…’
out of Context;
‘this tidal debris left remaining Here and much more of that corpse-like feeling and pale lodged in a random state lost in thought angry somewhere, lurching out of the nowhere from beyond the coffin lid exploded into wide-mouthed strike as the leech drives towards a pulse inside the throat as the hungry monster or ghost might attack in a fake world where we do not try to actively understand each other without some incentive to the expenditure of energy, and the system takes the place of that desiccated form leaching the love and faith away into a processing to transform the impulses into filth and lust and depravity openly corrosive to once precious ideas of natural wisdom… a telepathic social neurotic toxin fed to us throughout our lives Now…’
out of Context;
‘a greater structure meant to be in Here to maintain and struggle under the watchful eyes of mechanical angels and the street demons left alive after the meltdown becomes a rhyme we teach our own children in the line behind us as spawns of the next age of defeat and suffering implied… the collapsing reality of a bubbling crude politeness in the lieu of a fake political correctness that crushes our sanctity into place those natural and most fertile tessellations like smoking hate bombs utilizing most of our auxiliary energy bent to nefarious ends in themselves, and taking the whole mess with it into the wake of futuristic speculations that none of us seems directly privy to as information swarms and pulls at the subconscious states…’
out of Context;
‘inside our heads we are thinking that it can only be possible to find true love with either one’s self or by default in mutual blindness with another groping along the walls to find emotions unheard of before Now never acknowledging compassion or courtesy behind the eyes… the toxic smell of belief gone horribly wrong even though we might seem quite used to the wafting haze in a dreamy revelry sort of work and activity, the digital selves yelling out ‘yee-haw!’ as the genetic sequence spins them out of time in a spent uranium doctor Strangelove kind of ride into the next bold age to sunder and scorch the inescapable lie those traits of fate in some holographic fractal symbol for life to which we may ascribe as features of the ‘demi-urge’…’
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…’
out of Context;
‘IT’ is that this machinery lacks from becoming a living whole in a retarded collective of urges on loan from the higher organisms that eat and feed on the soul watching with glued eyes as the human drama unfolds from life to life to change the bizarre ways of Mankind into a humanity worth developing further along the cosmic chain of events in time-honored traditions of the past, but legions open on the fringe hope that some slip or miss will occur to make the confidence loosen the skin bounded on bones with as limber hearts and muscles and tone can be aging the souls to shortened wavelengths all trying…’
out of Context;
‘at the day-to-day work i do just to survive in this world fascinated to the death with the entertaining hive mentality as grown-up children with so many harsh responsibilities paid insufficient funds to meet the needs mocking like school-age children as though it were all such an adult place outside of the workplace, but it becomes a time to loosen these high standards once within the confining anything that might resemble professional boundaries to which jobs have always projected onto me at some level to a thoughtful state of mindfulness in both action and intent which others i work with seem to disregard once they punch that time card to start the work day off, this irritates me to no end even though i observe my own two sense sucked into the childish abyss justifying this mainstay…’
out of Context;
‘new motivation to try and make things different for the better that lies beyond temporary catharsis of a festival or carnival or circus… we need to go forth and start new towns where the states of mind we share are not just redundant chitchat to be had between friends and foes of enemies alike, the snappy patter of wit and ironic that has boiled down to inane and brainless immersion into empty quotes and vapid anecdotes that describes a life meant to adapt to the picaresque inertia we have allowed ourselves to forget so that we may return from the shambles once we get there, but what of those lost souls who will never grow up to be the people their kind have anyways wanted them to be?… we are all developing apart and as a whole…’
out of Context;
‘unwanted bugs forced out by a poisonous poultice that acts as a harmful gift with a limited scope of blessings while reacting allergic behind the scenes as an ally to the more “humane” methods of killing off insurgents in a given region, we could study all day the habits and flaws of the populace in general even though nothing could ever really save us from their problems except for compassion in the strictest sense, and that would mean an overhaul of the insult culture we have come to know and love and hate with a kind of sense of passion that throws the conformists off their chairs in whining gobs like mad infants…’