out of Context;
‘the passive remains the sane as they sway, rocking against the waves of pain the angry unleashed, compassion seeming lost in the stiffness… the joints break down as the mind dims thin, cracking back the taps into spinal ‘columbined’ fluids, and still the silent leak into thread-bare listless crave… the tapping totals nothing as the fingers flicker from fear to page in equal streak, but is there ever really more to this, something quantified beyond the potential?…’
out of Context;
‘i always wonder, but the grain is against me, the conformity… the steps taken that makes me fake, the faithless take is the chosen way, and still the same yet into light we seem to fade…’
So what will become of Livid Archaic now? I wonder.
out of Context;
‘topics through the mind meat, somewhere deep that can never be touched by human hands, but torn apart with a simple command…we might have the impossible journey stillborn in our hands, but, goddamn-it!!!, we are good people…yet, where is this fascinating syndrome i have come to feel?…’
Kismet for the dying culture in the unquenchable age of thirst and famine for knowledge.
‘surface…the sense…to make sense…’
today is the day… costumes and candy and all such crap connected… oh my… survival in bat country is to a degree perilous, to be sure, but rather annoyingly introspective… though maybe that is what older life is all about… the clattering of treats is threatening to make this a good weekend after all… pumpkin carving might be a good idea tonight with pizza… random real world interlude, there, I suppose… listen to the nightmare gothic Halloween mix as well… didn’t bring it to work, though, and I seriously doubt that I could manage to get ahold of it before the end of the day… gotta go to Radio Shack after work, but had a decent fast food lunch… there are few things that inspire hostility like closed-minded minions who think they know the world… distraction is the name …
original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton
excerpt; “we are the warships of our dreams
we are the cruel and the brutal
the tyrannical belief believed…”
‘appealing…convenient…onto the table…’
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. …
