rants & raves Archives - Page 79 of 108 - All The Wrong Topics dot com

winsome Slacker blues.

out of Context;
‘just for the thrills, this indifference with which we treat our ills as though the real world were a toilet bowl that needed to be plunged deeper and deeper until it emits a foul sound that follows with a smell of rank and meaty glamorous behavior, but there is no gripe for this fiendsome artist you see Here… the lack of that better half to deal with when you might find the self fiendish from this earthen flesh fair and give awareness as a gift for its forgotten presence in supreme states of leisure, treasured moments at best when well-dressed to suit the date, but what mental imagery is this when i cannot for even one second define the gist of this abrupt privilege wasted that soils my pants with the dread of worrisome concerns…’




Viperous, the dying sit transfixed.

out of Context;
‘the worth you diffuse like an unholy aura without need of light becomes too much for the mortal to bare when the demands far outweigh the fair use acting as a buffer, all stiff barriers fall over eventually worn down because of their standard of vertical angle all straight and narrowed like the mentality of those who are worthless once the points are blunted… the forces around us are irregular and conform to no specific erosive quality as they break the bonds of all kinds without qualifier, to assume a particular station of standardization is folly and dementia as that too cracks and falls apart under the strength of the changing motions of the mob that cannot see the good snakes for the bad ones as they drive the system to cleanse itself…’




Blogging as the bugger.

out of Context;
‘shedding the tyranny at the outside world lives locked away in the dark spiral universe of cruelty, and a sun bathed red in the blood of the men as they would die fighting as slaves against the sudden and hard-wrought conclusions betrayed by fierce selves as zombies sway in the spacey golden sunlight haze… the culture eats its dead in cyclic recycled machine flares that roar and rumble through humble instinct trans-interpreted again from alternate scripts of binary numeric codes and cryptic glyphs, the fluid etheric emotion in troubled confrontation of complicated equations…’




feel the Pressure.

out of Context;
‘manipulating hypocrisy, and always with a robot god’s face draped in a hood winking to eclipse the harm in the demon actions that have been far removed into a visage glaring in the sun… the odd strains of the voice match the ins toward the outs as the demons come and play to watch the fear as it boils to the surface of my skin, and it drips its drops of sweat under bright lights that taunt and glare overhead like launching into a thousand karaoke songs at once it would seem, the twisted gut approval portrayed by the gnarled things that we most become in our shallow critical waves as applause sounds out in chorus around the room and back again… the tentacle raped itself from the metaphysical miasma of dread that some artists interpret…’




dracula from Houston.

out of Context;
‘distilling of youthful and uncouth behavior reigns dominant as we grow into the human thing we have become, and are eventually going to utilize in each our own ways to shape reality to approval whether our own grown-up version of this as perhaps the collective image of right and wrong, though what if it were something more like this where we obey more than merely the conscious animal hive mind to keep warm when we are all truly one-of-a-kind explorers of “reality”…. whatever that ever was… same as it ever was… it is what it is… everything is everything… its all there, dude… the stalk of the wheat within the fields is an untrustworthy gauge by which follow, and too many unfriendly rats lurk…’




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…’




goetian Poetry.

out of Context;
‘a certain personality without dread at the coming end as that collective dark matter remembers something that resembles, not unlike a certain disreputable reputation that becomes evermore the legend that random people savor and are found to sometimes sacrifice to that altar of gods unknown using faces of the avatars of lost epic cultures beyond this form we are transmitting to you… the television has become your trainer and is equipped to discipline you, outfitted with the latest technology to impair your thoughts so you can follow sentences that other people want you to hear for your own good…’




circular the steps to Sex magic circuits.

out of Context:
‘already biased assumption based upon what is a preconceived notion of right and wrong, we can reveal what sick ideas are allowed by the culture to be sustained over the vital rights of the individual of which there is no valid substitute, and there is something to be said of trying to understand one’s own unique body over letting others tell you all about theirs leaving you with a feeling of needed comparison…’




to Write the Wrongs…

out of Context;
‘these bastards in power have the stamp of approval from the top down while no one ever asks the soldier or the families if they ever approved of this… we are traitors to our own kindness as we mock the very idea of respect by allowing the battered bones of the dead to be put in mass graves stashed away like shit beneath the outhouse, and as the unknown soldier groans for relief of duty, the madness of a saddened face jerks to one side to look away… burned and scarred by chemicals used as weapons in the ever-revolving doors of combat that many are pushed through in order to collide head-first into the people trained to be our only enemy, who suffer the same fate as our own ‘Merikan version…’




Separation of germs and hate.

out of Context;
‘applied by the liars on either side of the affairs struggling with their confusion of glaring eyes and dares disguised as mainlined hard-to-define row of words supplied by your narrator, and it is my mind’s eye struggling against the lair of the dreadful and unaware brutal minds as they enter without careful consideration of where they tread so light and fair… with caution proceed, but do not lose your balance to your disease, keep your center as you have no need in using overly righteous conjunctions or confusing preconceived of judgments Here… the bliss of the mind is that it can retreat…’