s for Semon... Archives - Page 7 of 16 - All The Wrong Topics dot com

a Martyr’s Ardor for Saints

out of Context;
‘the soul and its driving engine inside this machine trying to understand the degrading of the dream into this nonsense of reality as material destination Here amidst the flocking horde, a worshipful diatribe against we are found within like an egg to be hatched free to release the creature that later dies as random effect of time and space as detail to another puzzling picture put together wrong through the eyes of a preacher taking steps as the many others before him have to cater their interpretation of the biblical proportions to suit what their deluded ideas of a greater good is whether a heart is in the right place makes no difference…’




to Love Everyone or Somebody

out of Context;
‘this response to the ‘love everybody’ cliche that has permeated the vague threshold of old humanity where everyone and their grandmother knows the various lessons as they have turned into rhyme beyond reason used as a turnaround on fair play for those that have any such ideals, my people are the ones who ‘hate everybody’ in a sense that opposes the overwhelmed by love excuse that makes threadbare the simple human urge for some meaningful attraction instead of rejection… changing by subverting my sense of humility just a little bit so as to appear misanthropic while not fully giving in…’




Life + Debt Situation

out of Context;
‘commonplace in the halls of a purposeful power like ours… the monsters try their hands at normal lives when the reality caves in on them that their ideal perfection is truly false in its description on the way toward manifestation by subversive action, those dark ones are not easily seen to be pointed at like the ghouls they really are in this rogue game of hide-and-seek made belief by the pretenders tainting the shallow pool with blood and semen and whatever other disgusting ingredients they can add to this stew, and the keen eyesight of this demonic tribe of opportunists is used to spot the flavors they crave to devour as powerful lobbyists and politicians alike vie for forcing their opinion upon the rest of the horde…’




Crossing the line

out of Context;
‘the deranged sits cranked up with volumes of visions intent in their separate planned schisms manifesting division between all of the senses as they flux and flow with the tensions affixed naturally within people, the sole inhabitant of the head once death has pulled the spirit from this vessel now spent from the voyage from this previous life living casually as though nothing else were going on in the cosmos except for themselves, but not necessarily a world as inhabited by the curious opportunist even though there are many scrambling for survival in taking all the pieces of the pie-eyed dream for their individual hoards…’




Sell Dumb…

out of Context;
‘change is coming hard and fast into the spaces that fill out the blank stare autonomy behind the eyes as the icy glaze traps us under ice-aged social waste collected in minds, economy of motion glacially slow and cumbersome as a graceless wreck atrociously begins to intrude upon the hearth and home of captive civilian audiences locked in their oh-so-not-so terrible television friction in which burns the mind’s eye scraping with a vacant electric flare like a robot zombie ready for the next orders to follow like law to the letter, but we are so much more than shuffling corpses waiting to die finally to get away from this ornate experiment in social extremes and power games utilized to covet the resources…’




by choice, clowns strike wit.

out of Context;
‘through this emotional vessel as the night drags day out of its cold cocoon to reignite in the mourning ritual as the phoenix rising from the ashes whether bird of prey or sent flying as the withering egg finally leaves nothing but rich growth in the flaming wake, and society made of stone and steel remains as a skeletal wasteland to turn into tomb transformed into a womb for the rest of the world and its next denizens crawling inside the space betwixt as the swirling orbit comes to rest bounded at all ends by the gods’ suture which fails to mend…’




chin snaggle truth

out of Context;
‘at one point i was considering myself ‘amniscient’ (a strange portmanteau of the terms Amish and omniscient) as the “weird” started to grow, and the ideas began fomenting with haste as to what honor i would bestow upon this unique path to visual extremes which became a gauge for what the year brought out in me and from my environment as pieces falling into place… today, i understand what it was that i was trying to do with my appearance besides modify it into a different shape…’




Chemical Innocence

out of Context;
‘base material transmuted into goals into which this conscious world takes its shapes and cues to create… the majority of us are confused by the variable complexities that seem to betray whatever humanity appears to be at first glance whether conscious animal or instinctual alien drawn into worlds within worlds of drama and consequence, the grand scheme as epic as it seems is really quite simple when one considers that humanity is the source of all these dreams becoming reality…’




an Expansion of Self

out of Context;
‘no proof is easily produced as assembly line quality searching out in some refined state that allows even the most brazenly stupid and unaware no matter how wealthy one appears to be able to understand, why should i be one to have those cues common to confusion after eating the words of your saviors like turds for scatological needs in order to study a reverse engineering the patterns of demon logic that seize the people who seem to lose faith in their idling profits a lot of nervous energy that cannot be consumed without questioning in the masters’ ways…’




Strangers Have the Best Fiction

out of Context;
‘fetishistic idea of a lifestyle where one’s sleepy solid comfort is the standard bearer to which all others become shit, we the inferior are littered everywhere that no one wants to try looking because the grime clinging to our bodies is a social crime in these parts of the civility that hates us for who we are trying to be… nightmare of our life to think we are going no where or to a place that doesn’t want us as used and thrown down a waded piece of living trash outliving the abuse, with or without the crutches makes no real difference only in the eyes of a judgmental authority of whose dead soul only manifests in hateful intent to purge the system of its dreck…’