…no one seems to care at all in this day and age of urgency gone critical so critically in a social way that betrays us every day we are awake and dreaming for a better future but never comes Here to stay only to play with itself through us as puppets organized as organically craving the intermission of our pleasures finally reaching detrimental tainted toxic impressions impersonating human made to mock social awareness while also exploiting its artificial abilities washing away things that do not feed the variance of this all-go-riddim its supply and demand diet of craved information carving, through personal data as though only binary code in numbers and letters of computing languages alone, achieving aspects until now stuck as dreams revealed to manifest later on beyond whatever psyche keyed to certain vibrations and frequencies to compel …
out of Context – ‘…Here clearly marked for some purpose from the past since perhaps antiquity became reinterpreted as times of total iniquity still sending signals through the noise we have accepted come to conclusions inclusive of only a few who were chosen by the gods as we now worship them and give respect where it is due to shine the karmic chrome that brightly covers our asses blinding those who assume too much taking advantage of a golden touch not rationed out amongst the people but only invested parties, pumping up the volume while contorting the physical to please what vital demons one can concede as primal reason becoming beings that further extend the reach of future glad-handing wizards that seek fortunes siphoned from those very persons they supposedly represent yet deny ever having to play the villain…’
Hello… what easier frame or phrase than thank you which requires two syllables instead of one, of course having a transitional punch that distinct that quick does shake up some idling ideas apart from whose passive potential energies acts like glue upon the cosmos left behind you sealing it in a caption called ‘past’ as referenced anchor point met by the individual you as waiting to collect up that box with an uncanny seeming of random things to a naked selfless soul whose “i” wanders about with no absolute definition of structure or home without building upon personal concepts of its Here and Now as presence has dictated, but don’t go so hastily before eye pronounce these symbols as words in motion to access a non-exclusive state as stellar freedom the illusion makes us out not to be because …
The parallels are everywhere Here… Sleep equals death equals ether equals time/space equals birth?
What exists after we awake?… Birth into sleep and back around again.
You might think it is safe to be hard like a rock, but your ego betrays a lack of confidence in the self-esteem that is required to move about so freely. You can look into another face, and sense the animal alertness embedded in this flesh. You can read the signs of progress like a scout with a compass, but your initial thrust forward is hampered by an existence fettered by the material needs that substitute necessity. You can see yourself giving, but all you can do is take it as the world dishes it out to meet its tempers of equal pressure. The urge becomes too much for the being to endure, and as the light fades from the eyes, an embittered perspective takes the place of a mind open to any frequency that reaches the senses there. …
my fate is locked in tightly with yours, but the avenues for release from the present state are terribly limited. the understanding defies the reason, and the reasons defy the proper logic out of the chaos. ordered thoughts might seem the perilous undertaking. ‘Nixon Void’ beckons from the dark dead subconscious of archetypes unborn. a string of letters and symbols that conceptualize into empty anti-growth. a nihilist is breathed into life, and yet, wants that breath taken back to wherever it came from. spite and despair bring this “thing” to us, and we all have to face our demons down the barrel of a gun, an image that denotes our futile narrowed vision. we are lead around by the bells, ringing to create unendurable confusion, and we meet the intense things that be. overtaken by the bullets of implied …
They are there right now. Everywhere in our midst, keeping a patient eye upon the suckling void active in humanity, and this fatal flaw will always reveal itself given time. To betray a withering self that cannot think beyond the material scope of the reality they seem to hold so dear. The possessions that can take a stranglehold upon their keeper. A misty recollection of what the past had been. Now, just subtle memories overlaid the entire scene the eyes can take in at once. Baffled by the ill-tempered, I stride motionless through the questionable realm of thought, and get to know the hollow chest which is my emotional center, my heart. The mind and body can stray away distracted, but the heart guides the soul to its fateful destination. Weeping in sorrow over the torturous existence that sometimes …
crispy from the fryer, eye have come to spread cheer and enlightened false riches. philosophy is emotional experience, and it moves like friction in the mechanical, it needs something there to lubricate its’ machinations. nihilism makes hippies breed faster, and communally, they resemble rabbits accustomed to rapid fornications. twisting their genitalia into some heated amalgam of fleshes that makes all the bodies move, writhing and thrusting, into bliss ever more temporary from the mouth gaping wide open to reveal the pain beyond the dark swelter. the ejaculates of the mind’s eye have become distorted folly. by all foolish standards, self-parody is the macabre avocation that propels the defiant urge forward in the ‘mic/mac’ cosmos. darkness needs to light that love brings to inflame the wounds from active witness to the pitfalls of reserved behaviors. the actions that inspire billions …
tHere are strangenesses about in this lair…small surprises along the way to greater things…no focus will well lead someone across the blades with a disappointed air…the scraps of personal power that we give to other beings is astonishing to say the least…what obnoxious freaks are we to think we are the masters here?…the surgeon will cut with a certain precision to the incision, they have all done this before somewhere…the world is not our whore to play with so easily…what benefits the estranged soul who darts in and out of the centuries looking for bliss, is it possible to understand wholly from within?…it feels like a real shambles, but will always change without reason to the hard second…turnabout is fair play, or so they say…eye don’t believe in a way out…it is all obnoxious puppetry in the extreme…we are …
the perception of…
Every…
Young…
Entity…
eye see, eye see…visions of the masses through their children’s eyes, and outside of the mind there are reconstituted effigies of persons who walk by, hardened by the growth of the creature on the surface…the eyes, however, say much more from the soul then many other physical points do, but that is not to say that there is no way people can flow with this energy from every pore…most do not even pursue such abilities…in youth, we have everything that cannot be condemned for the loving newness that makes every moment breathtaking, but as we grow older, it does become easier to use experience as a shell from this freshness…not an innocence, per say, but an undeniable potential for anything sensual or beyond the six senses…man is five senses, but that example is that devolved man that …
