out of Context;
‘sharing ideas between spaces of loss and laziness while at the same time finding an inspiration to fly away from the burning sun turning into the shadows to glimpse another sight of the dark heart the soul tries to hide in code like anachronistic nursery rhymes cursing us with their blind subconscious impetus, yet we might try to force control for at least a little while living in these holy shells chosen ammunition of the gods who know no better than to fuck with our morals and our laws by instilling layered meanings into the virtues we seek to stabilize and defy the random chaos writhing all throughout this fragmented of a psycho-social display of dominance, and frying the nervous side of a physical mind…’
out of Context;
‘our ulterior motives sometimes those internal mechanisms we are not aware of clockwork twitches moving the spastic frame into places it perhaps would not have dared otherwise without consciousness in this efficient functional reality grinding along, ticking out measured moments on as man-made a face as no one adores watching the flickering hands displace slow hours into waste that chills the bones because the time slips away in the shortest increments that no one stops to appreciate except occasionally me and those handful of others lurking behind the sealed off screen door to the digital floor, and ‘ding!’ Here we are in the last place you’d expect from the shallow ways of Mankind whose kindness seems either harsh or cruel to inhibit a casual growth of rebellious youth from cropping up again and again…’
out of Context;
‘you don’t trust them with their flim-flam personal displays swaggering to take control if you don’t watch out for your whole, knots you cannot see linked though by invisible thread tied like the rest of us tied together for better or words that decide to sever their relationship forever with our essence in the which where we credit the winner with the glory of the massive a collection of souls weighing heavily upon the face of this earth as heathen as it may seem to be with regard to a killing deity dispatching without mercy, and it is we who become trapped in our own definitions needing to be broken in at least a house-broken way so that we are not responsible for cleaning the mess made after we have left…’
out of Context;
‘it appears that people wrote these laws and rules most of whom were men that could not do much more to advance divine intervention than to acknowledge that workers need more time relaxing to endure the monochrome colors limited in relation to the actual world we live in… and the work week carries on. no matter where you are or what it is you do, there are certain qualities about working that separates mind and body by allowing the body’s motor consciousness a control with which allows some to think about many things at once or with more focus as perception concentrates itself into a narrow beam to activate the energy for multitasking for example requiring a slightly higher perception of a person’s immediate surroundings, and diversion then becomes the bane of the activity…’
out of Context;
‘something counter to whatever whiny muscle rock that seems to me to permeate mainstream rock radio for what there is left of that old ideal out there of jerks as profitable role models because my ear is not groomed for the radio anymore now that i have experienced a strange climate change between school-age and the person who is writing these words now, and i guess i somehow have always wanted to produce satirical outsider art in the truest sense of a satire trying to be a reflective tool expressed like maybe a ‘canary in the mine’ scenario holding relevant meaning up effectively until the canary like the run-on joke dies a horrible death…’
out of Context;
‘constipated institutions which work even worse than the outside because of all the rules in reverse pressing against us and our resistance against that wrecked of an ideology, but still we move on and give of ourselves to the others that appear worthy the gifts of human interaction as we have come to know it in this distract rear view of the good old days when there was never any need to be this hostile or suspicious of fellow humans in motion doing whatever it is they choose to do in their own time which is none of our business personally… but somehow worms and maggots will edge their way in where they do not belong to try whittling information from the wilted choices of word that people in their weakness and vulnerable states falter attempting…’
out of Context;
‘ritualizing the lifestyle like the slaves to extracurricular idols as saints with the church veneer and the shining screen teeth eating against type the believers and their beliefs like a treat or snack of casual urge to consume, but to assume the ends means nothing of the result of attacking with a hunger gnawing restlessly in aggressive longing to conquer the meal one presumes to give its livelihood for a value in the devourers’ cookbook canceling one residual avenue for food… sustenance in small steps taking critical charge as the visually gory love for blood pours off from the screaming faces raped and tortured in scenes witnessed flickering through a tiny window quantified by experience of cheapened trauma allowing the dismissal of the real fates of the human beings…’
out of Context;
‘the journey of living makes some more weary than others swaying and bound to fall overboard into fathomless waters in this dream made up of seamen as the roles we are fit to tailored to serve as a crew as each member keeps the vessel moving along toward the horizon line beyond this life, and the body can have its’ own agenda and will not always care who thinks themselves at the helm or controls of this ship… you can either ship wreck or ship rock and enjoy the ride feeling the waves sway you side to side as you glide like the rest of us, some of the others cruise at speeds too volatile to handle as a general guiding rule for anyone else to apply, but constantly we miss the flowing of substantial progress…’
out of Context;
‘as multiple factors are required for the graduation of these distant collaborations, when one looks into the expanded vision experienced as nothing and then further beyond that it can be seen with a naked third eye the wonderland of imagination fleshed out and exposed before each mind’s eye to a massive change in the works of others… the fear of nothing, the fear of freedom, cannot be withheld long by a soul yearning to breathe free of these most hassling interactions of dramatic proportions between personalities and the people who wield them as weapons… those derivative holes that do nothing more than to suckle upon the goodness of the world like a parasite perceived to live like you or i for the most part, but take the blinders off or put the glasses on…’
out of Context;
‘an unwavering clarity in this… the respect for those dolled-up waifs traveling in circles far too distant for me to rotate within as the whips and chains of the soul are bared teeth savoring the taste and the consistency of skin as device of thrilling conclusions and endless romanticism with sensual possibilities pulling some of us along by a leash, and the tightened collar grip the mass-ters tug upon to control this defenseless puppy’s hold on reality becomes much too much while that tightening costume of the gimp wears thin in small increments that make the skin itch for tender mercies or a pledge for forgiveness from those wielding the power over who stays and who goes, but the sweat and the screams for those few brief glimpses helped the victim absorb the terror by indulging…’