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a Blog Clogged

two weeks into the shift to dirty-faced angelic feats of facial display brings on the swagger of the old bearded resemblance that has in fits gone out of its way to let personal feelings fly into the known universe with rage and hate fueling the pitch with a tone to slither and appears to penetrate the ear and mind to mold a new personal context from which new patterns grow beyond the threshold that appears as actual life, the body forms only as the externalized organism now idealized vessel of a dominant consciousness into which open many possibilities translated and then visualized and executed as individuals born and commanding a soon functional active parameter of the Now in further understanding for the larger conscious swing of polarities constantly adapting that raw power of true knowledge to this animal world, but a savage emotional undertow curling spirits and souls of all forms into the works of fluctuating particulate realistic and within a material universe where multitudinous are neural varieties all channeling energy to and from multiple other parallel organic networks and levels of circuits within the use of the overall system… we are defined as human clone always searching for an oblivious projection of perfection to last the ages as some symbol of reality to be guided and carved by the chosen artisans behind the dark curtains of secret ritual, in the personal performance acting as the counter-balance to false modes of wisdom which twist and worm through the brains of men working the human electric devil like a puppet of comfortable dishonor in the detailed displays and reenactments on the grand scale that a cruel living theater would require to happen correctly, or at all for that matter as things do not manifest quite as cheaply even in cultures of quick disposal where the aspiration has drifted toward for centuries on end as the idea of some history might have us to believe in cryptic classroom settings of betrayed logic and lore declassified for the general public to absorb and ignore… if those books have taught us anything, it fosters distrust in the sense of ruling that this system and its current upper class that controls from among beaten-down hordes as they amass against the walls of faltering segregation and omnipotence as wielded by a human interpretation of scripture that insists on its own validity as a work of unquestionable value, but it is on that side of Self that attempts to condemn those parts it deems lack sense or specific credence set aside for consecration into the shitty conformist plot that has dimensional beings such as you and i making a barely sustainable wage while forgetting just what points are vital in this life without disregarding the importance of suffering as a lifestyle that leads to winnings not all are worthy of bringing to bear as the sorrows shed away regret and guilty feelings misunderstood by most… are we to be subjected to all the degrading efforts managed by others who would see us done harm in the bettering of this real time space a working relationship with all other forces heavily laboring to recreate visions unshared by a majority of suspect inno-scent (the smell of innocence) beings, the sorrow clogs the liberated veins from their flowing urge in expression of the attempt which cannot contain its fury and outrage at the illusion of being automatically equipped to handle the reality as it grows around us promoting equal parts sacred chaos and a scared sense of order which cannot seem to reconcile the real physical world with the internal musings struggling behind the mentally and emotionally affected masks of the everyday existence eating that peripheral expenditure of time being killed by lack of anything better to do, and the cycle of day and night swirl in relative distance outside of the usual critter crawling across the face of this heathen earth in gratuitous quantities as reflects a unique life that wills itself to be Here among both aspects of dispute and intrigue which inevitably draws the appropriate contextual clues that fit to the person instead of trying to fit the person to the context that flips between knowledge and nothingness in broad strokes back and forth… the statement of intent is designed by us and our actions, not merely as labor alone to toil and spend until we are dead with a gravestone for a head sticking up where a brain should have been while the priest forced others to pray with him in a mock ceremony of grief and change as the funeral pride in ancient rites has flipped yet again, and the situation is without easing real solutions to fix it… the practical gist locked in a sludge-like state of false and noxious motion slowed by the arrogance left…

Thanks, khet.