‘the universe conversing with itself though not as solipsistic that it seems at once first appearing to be some kind of collateral whether by-product or damage makes no difference Here when the what with some kind of wonderful expectation that gets demolished becomes disrespect and affliction as the attack comes not from the pain but the nostalgia that cracks the dimensions of dementia open to possibilities that were never before conceived amusing some over others more certainly as the slapstick bitter insulting how science at its least humane takes human guinea pigs to breach the savage novelty as cracks in the walled forts linked by common enemies to form fortress mentalities so vitally opposed to delirium harvested by oft-invested directions of attention driveling and sniveling by-products of cantankerous opposition sold out…’ ~ out of Context
‘after a period of deprivation aggravating the lens of emotional compulsion driving us ahead into madness with or without obvious markers along the way whether it be an actual path or an idealized aversion to probability considered viral now as virtuous trend not oblivion can waste all the best efforts of men and their counterparts in the continuum of cycles metaphorical and material as this universe embraces all movements as long as there is still motion revealed… we can only contain so much until our heads explode into their constituent atomic strands and strings of theory passing presupposed wavelengths and bandwidths on the assertion that this is THE right way…’ ~out of Context
‘what can one measly point of view say about the world in flames with trumped up charges lethargically-blaming the people for their own hate when heat and fury of rasping coffin lids closing seem as infectious if not ask quiet the grooves of the ornate and gilded frames of the weightless grams in digitally-conveyed animated faces blinking prettily and seductively as if we were touching through as many screens with death grins smiling?… i face the same swarm of itchy unwashed wasting as a good variety of our populaced-and-interwoven as fear gets to be a panic-driven mind killer breathless yet screaming out for more distractions to ventilate that sickness inherent since earlier plagues became of us a parasite we have grown so used to being evacuated from house and home where the heart is hollow..’ – out of Context
‘…as not all daze can be woven the same, the only stipulation is the madness that holds us back while alternately launching “the joke” in shrapnel materialized over our heads, and sharply into the skins of those soldiers blindly thrown forward to foregone conclusions a sacrifice chosen as collateral by the situation in which the novel trivial absurdities seem closest in popping any balloons we determine and terminally set ourselves within, either as casualty to “the joke” or the caustic punchline now floating about unseen until ˜it strikes out loud and we all fall down into the ashen once again. Whether we are left hardened items of statuesque tragedy terrorized by the very real repercussions generally considered as death becomes us, unable to be truly in control of our own meaningless endings…’ ~Out of Context
are there thoroughfares where our pro-ducted trivial fashioning becomes its own a life and thus turns a concept into reality? a place lodged in imagination somewhere between the oh-so classically-defined shadow where the subconscious dark matter of all perception uses jagged little barbs as set of cilia particular peculiarity parallel to what may be a wise experiential decision that as humans digesting the real further can confine in our passions onto the “knowns-and-unknowns” found in playgrounds and battlefields that soon consist of those marked parameters which contain us within oblong finality that either burns or breaks down in this decidedly unappealing journey of once we get to a certain narrowed idea of a ‘what it is we think life is truly to us’ as then the individuals who perceive any duality at all, that as rite of productive constructive …
‘the bowels of language’ {TO THE VOWELS}
A “how” is the Action, the mention being much less than these feats that upon impact,
that can force us to achieve as much as fail…failure doesn’t mean ‘DEATH’
as much as we perceive it to be, lessons in building pressure and tension.
E “what” is the Energy, which can evade human engineering to create new and better patterns
to eventually lead to better situations, and it flows through everything
as they exist as artifacts in this dimension of analysis.
I “who” is the Individual, both the mastery and perceived subjugation of others
underneath no matter what the conceptual dividing line managed by these charged compromises
and collaborations intentionally pushing others into roles which constantly question the integrity of any given set of conditions.
O “where” is the Occupation, which could be either a career or something driven that occupies
the mind …
divinity made us digest the manifestations of a source whose silver cord from the motherboard is as vital an accessory as any hairs teased or plucked out of the visions beheld by few but those bodies eclectic enough to run through their river of life thoughtful of the safety switches that dismantle a system like this so thoroughly-upheld because otherwise total chaos is not reliable or so can be said by creators of a differing strain at odds because of the pain of elements like queer variables stacking up odds cracking the compulsion of worry and dread that possesses our souls for a collected sort of flawed creatures crawling as much as trolling the passersby whom trash each other by the age old rarified stench for which we find ourselves used to much like the climate and its ever-changing …
the dirt dug us deeply six feet from the last bodies that dropped there having made the mistake of dying so slowly that the world change around us to be tempted by watershed marks on the pavement left after the seas of our past in a strange repetition of the past sagas swept over the ruling parties standing tall and upright to mimic and strive boldly into those false fates first in rejection of a solid and stable foundation to begin the quest out there and thus finally finish the question over doubt and skeptical sermons about the powers-that-be being present though not altogether aware of the future that would rise pushing promotions of civilized solicitation and lobbied an insanity into existence out of nightmares barely credible outside of the human mind seen as alien more than simply other …
the screeching of the weasels and the cries of the carrots echo down in the park this jungle has become drumming as much free basing off of the fear ruling the streets to make the consequences more distinct to those who refuse to pay attention even though they realize the hollow highs costing us our space and time if we waste too much of it to then become just another lesson to be recorded to teach the hoarders to confess their syntax with languages so late they are deceased or believed to be that way oppressed as dead “men” have no tails or threads used in a long drawn out series of threats as solely benefits anyone adapted and dying to take advantage of the greater collective hard-pressed to commit to a better future in easy-made instructions written for …
taking a look at myself and others in ways that proceed to canceling each force unfathomed separate from a looking glass that resembles more a needle’s eyes threading through narratives compiled and catalogued by the faces then to be housed behind the masks of skin held tight and high in places we would rather wreck loose festering hidden away as tribulated why it works this way and how as systematic anthems grind and corrode against the splendid veneer chromed to the touch in the worldly political politeness that eats our souls while leaving burning reminders haunting the hollow hell sights set aside for the punishable numbers remaining through tragic collapse these times into strange situations contradicted by martyrs and tyrants tirades cutting and rutting deeply psychic wounds by taking lives in modern fashion fucking up these whys with the …