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…’
out of Context;
‘it is this day that commemorates the “innocents” thus sacrificed as holy martyrs in regards to karmic debt in the rest of us as we all pay it forward to the future hopes that people will not be sealed in some small boxes so as to lighten the load of humanity’s baggage as though our enjoyment endorses the suffering of the other in opposing energistic device as we experience this in the Here and Now, but we cannot allow ourselves to see past a hazy set of “laws” that are now slightly offset from the rest of reality because of the weight in their approved curiosity by whole of the populace at large… we keep rocking steady with a minimum of energy expulsion because we are such whores for this dead-end currency that allows us to be…’
out of Context;
‘the English monarchy had it this way and the corporate scum have followed suit in the new ages since the industrial revolution last, but sometimes a fifth of scotch given out to couriers since those long lost olden days where people thought that gatherings would be pleasant through the bitter reunions as the “day of goodwill” commences among the holiday crushed Here in a human side to reality’s cold sting… still a part of the unholy shopping fury that comes in the season of Grummet afterward in which people seem to reconcile between the materialistic and spiritual aspects within their own true nature, in the aftermath of an annual mass consumption of goods and services where gods are praised but in which few are very relevant to a modern situation these days…’
out of Context;
‘until one gets there at the end of the road where the scholars go for a sit and a drink… the myths are at times distinct and related between guests on this strange passage of humanity from one life to the next in some weird quick succession as we seem to alternate between the rigid systems and loosen the anarchy to recreate this ideal brand of almost reliable elements with an energy to be as the tearing wraps that barely kept the gifts in check by the consumptive measured ploys accepted by the rabid shoppers…’
out of Context;
‘we must yield, the Man states in an unsettling way, to the mischief of the Muse who laughs at us through the mirror of our dreams as though to provoke a particular reaction from the empty space looking back at us when we turn our heads into the outward direction… away we are drawn through the mists that the Man’s finger points, into the trees with make-believed humane interest as he does this to the hordes of a human idealism that has left dust and waste in the tracks of this beastly fake of humanoid tastes whose raw animal place has grown out from the earthen crust itself only having bored of the horizontal plane of unfathomable fictitious legends on parade from age to age as locked in a maze never opening to an end…’