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…’
out of Context;
‘Man-handled by the state of things into toeing the line managing to make humanity a naked animal in the digital wilderness where it might just become like those war-torn olden days we have seen so many movies about, but this is where the sinister have their stock and trade in those subtler arts beyond surface awareness like masked feelings and ulterior motivations mocking the ideal of a greater good for gain instead to wield about like some Quixotic windmill which really is a dragon or giant terrorizing us behind the obvious scenes… this is why the battles are never shown to us for what they really are in order to subvert one’s control over their own opinion because we are all just another form of commodity whether urban or rural, we all seem to serve the purpose…’
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…’
out of Context;
‘my fellow proles and i organizing for anarchy’s sake, out on parole from the police state statistical prison in which we are key and gate, and prowling the midnight nightmare monopoly in its own streets and backyard retreats to make absolutely sure that the wealthy never escape from their own damnation stagnant in the one-sided capitalism that has made it easier to get Here from the place that was then as right now has no end for either of us as we decide favor on the grey area that reality truly inhabits as neither this or that but a combination of all sides at once… it was built into our genes which we wear out so well…’
out of Context;
‘his feral pack type and tap away like a grand organic motor grinding away to hit the one-armed bandit square in the jackpot, but we can only achieve that through realizing the symbols don’t manipulate us any better than we are capable of better managing them instead whether they be words or syllables in this dementia… dimensional travel always in flux, and perhaps a long fabled dimensional quality at which is constantly being reached for and striven after by the experimenters and shamanic sorts who perceive greater than the mere happenstance charisma of the living world, one sign apparent to me as the Lord is merely a supervisory role with strong evolutionary characteristics of vestigial realities as shit it clings to the digestive wall in our imaginations… a collective story somehow in ways taken for granted…’
out of Context;
‘vibrations through the eye of experience, a narrow eye of the needle through which the thread of individual experience gets woven into the tapestry of what seems like only empty space, but there is no one frequency that does not rely upon all other natural frequencies to sustain each other to create a universal certainty… an order so-to-speak amid the islands of chaos is created when vital connections are made, and thusly resonate through one’s life continuum as the individual like the ringing vibration we are solely tuned into as beings, so the phrase ‘spaced out’ is a very apt expression…’
out of Context;
‘the burden of the beast with mind alike in such a way as no casual joy can be found in the simple words strung together loosely as though interjected by the amateur who is in this merely for the money, and knows a way to find a profit or a prophet when they seize one, this oily discharge the wrath of god whose bones were used to make my bread fluffy and rise with only the effort required of the artistic shaman at work in the modern sense of decay… not a baker’s dozen for anyone, to mean there is an end is to end by all means the expression made-up to look pretty to anyone who might fall for the trap this crap made from symbols that i have whittled away…’
out of Context;
‘nobody ever feels as though they are on the same page as the rest of this humanity, but the paranoid and tinted blinders do not have to last even this brief lifetime witnessed as a forever perhaps if only from our situationist roots as beings stuck in gilded scenes that try in vain to repress the acceptance of one’s roles within the grand theater of the absurd abstracted to burn the flagging will of individual in light of the pack mentality… to whom should i give my excess baggage to?… the stink of the ribald humors drifting under the nose of the indifferent sloven beast who cares not for the destiny of compassion among friends, the civilized demeanor among enemies who hear the voices of hatred…’
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…’
out of Context;
‘deriving pleasures from the decrepit and lonely even if only inside of their bedrooms of ivory suburban towers about to collapse from the changing world striking lightning upon their sacred structure wet in the appetite once the digestion has it in its swallow grip a shallow grave into which those indifferent beings are flipped… as the sacred begin gathering for an evening of the newborn annual rituals to again pivot upon formal format of the social breakdown as made into oblivious yearly calendar sequence to party the night away, where people degrade themselves as puppets to the fascist state from which history has compiled its survivors to be lead around by their psychopaths and a sociopathic corruption of the human trust sequence as evolved through the brink of distinct extinction of various other traits…’