Miscellaneous Archives - Page 23 of 24 - All The Wrong Topics dot com
springquinox circle of elements
had been up multiple days working, hadn’t really prepared anything finalized for the ceremony, how can i be Air when it’s more like a wind tunnel than a logoic framework, don’t even have a statement of intent, some opening words, anything, let alone any props/material components that had been discussed in the brainstorming session. called Water and made my confession of ‘not feelin it’ and lack of preparation, and she had taken care of everything already, all components and general framework for the ceremony. big relief. ok I should try to live up to the appointment.
later on we set out. wind tunnel going strong, having trouble finding a ground in all that’s going on…an uncomfortable level of unknown, and about aspects which don’t tend to inspire such reaction. I try to ground but i feel the wind tunnel and …
Zombies of the Morning
out of Context;
‘somewhere there is a light that calls from the heavens… it seems that the devourers we are seem to enjoy the taste of other conscious entities, remarking upon the flavor as we saute them into subordination, and become fat and delirious as we engorge ourselves on their flesh… a savory feast on the minds of other species… mad, lusty, greedy hordes come through the gates upon arrival in a new land, and settle upon the exploitation of potential insight for that possibility for a plunderable wealth… to squat a conquest out of the fecal remains of the days as the go by, the glass globe surrounding our dimensions occasionally lets out a toxic snow as the seasons move again, and the years build into decades as the zombies wreak havoc upon the surface of the earth….’
Quarrelsome Children, Sick and Slow…
out of Context;
‘at the day-to-day work i do just to survive in this world fascinated to the death with the entertaining hive mentality as grown-up children with so many harsh responsibilities paid insufficient funds to meet the needs mocking like school-age children as though it were all such an adult place outside of the workplace, but it becomes a time to loosen these high standards once within the confining anything that might resemble professional boundaries to which jobs have always projected onto me at some level to a thoughtful state of mindfulness in both action and intent which others i work with seem to disregard once they punch that time card to start the work day off, this irritates me to no end even though i observe my own two sense sucked into the childish abyss justifying this mainstay…’
my diseased Fantasies
out of Context;
‘as a warrior upon perhaps a purest path to take past all perverted grace of leprous debt insane resuscitated joining hands to force the energy forth like hardcore flaneurs roaming the streets with no hope for a future setting of day and night in cycles of systematic repetition… not nihilists but hopeless idlers wandering aimlessly through dark stone columns of souls variously lit at spots like some vibrant everlasting torch or candle expelling darkness in a short halo around its view of the city, the pants are worn at the knees and see-through to some degree while these stains from the blood will not go away, and the washing machines walk among the mad unyielding fiends you get used to seeing everyday…’
Psychopathic Salespeople from Hell
out of Context;
‘this tidal debris left remaining Here and much more of that corpse-like feeling and pale lodged in a random state lost in thought angry somewhere, lurching out of the nowhere from beyond the coffin lid exploded into wide-mouthed strike as the leech drives towards a pulse inside the throat as the hungry monster or ghost might attack in a fake world where we do not try to actively understand each other without some incentive to the expenditure of energy, and the system takes the place of that desiccated form leaching the love and faith away into a processing to transform the impulses into filth and lust and depravity openly corrosive to once precious ideas of natural wisdom… a telepathic social neurotic toxin fed to us throughout our lives Now…’
Tejas stink.
“in days of heat
sticky, sweaty
a carcass living
casually weeps
in the shadow
no ordinary tears
but tears of blood
the tacky wet
red, moist
as the ripping
waves pulse
like a blow dryer
an antagonistic sun
the hairy face matted
the guilt, the rage
hot issues all well
spent with no
mention of rot or
decay featured now
a carcass dying
in days of heat…”