All The Wrong Topics dot com

the Dead Gods

all around us are dead gods in the particles we breathe and the children we conceive, the simple truth before the interests that have been infecting youth culture to such an extent that there no longer would be anymore hope involved because it would all evaporate away the ruined elements of rebellion vital in an age where authority is a nameless and faceless breed with rank and serial number attached asking for your papers when in your own country one day soon, and people will be happy about that switch though certainly not the right people who have had families stretch into the past with agendas that would raise more than a few eyebrows if they were to become fact at the same time the stories became fiction… ripping away the masks that have engendered sinister dangers behind a leering maniacal grin even as the sweetest terms you want to hear are wrapping around your brain terrorizing you in your sleep to follow the campaign whose aim is to distress you into feeding the beast or some such similar feat of sacrifice in the name of the weak ‘greater good’ whomever that is that controls this notion of common sense obviously, something other than ourselves which only desire to be freed from this diseased realm as we have grown to fear in our hideous weeping cries to nowhere, but to the ghosts of the mind that desire lives on as an electric spark that is fuel to the ripe turning jewel box tune playing distant and old through the peeling felt or velvet to a song ancient and nostalgic without fail keeping the power beating on for the world as we know it as behind these eyes… now taking very little to blow the mind as the pin-prick strokes hard against the grain to deliver his biased words as laws in this strange mono-culture taken for granted already by the human pest run rampant through a concrete jungle of its own devising, we are the dead gods shocked into reality by this situation presented before us all at one time now or another while a few amass power and wealth for no other reasoning than to make epic the underdeveloped dichotomy of life and death to good and evil in a strange pursuit for a sideways attack at truth in all its forms, but this is in the eye envisioning human as only animal fighting for survival against all odds of brutal reality and cruel absolutes made certain by previous gods we worshiped into a stillborn truth as dying proof of an end… the signs and symbols eat faith and vision as the bound beast born of flesh cycles through imperfection in many realms of conscious attention in constant motion, the warrior-hero within is always battling against the dying of the light whether the person becomes poet or fighter is no different than any other projection of this inner force representing that spark eternal that flares and flickers passionately inside us all, but each life is a matter of learning through many steps in line with the same destination as mentioned in many religions but very rarely is ever spoken of in terms of certainty that relate to respecting each now… a direction fed for an afterlife which may or may not be similar to this one we struggle within, all these various lines drawn contrarily between distant points of reference in multiple languages that further seem to feed into the illusion of separation yet still further, but the esoteric in not a study for anyone who cannot accept conflicting opinions from both outside sources as well as voices of discontent from inside as unique ages intervene with limited scope of activity.. stars align and the signals are freed from static, and progress moves further ahead by leaps and bounds while static ages are made controlled centers for cataloging the information cutting through the science and wisdom and layers of experience amounting to mountains of lore and logic confined into the span of centuries which grow less relevant unless in metaphor for each version of the truth eroded by the lapse of time against these material shores, the body may meltdown and wither as the mind stays acute and active even as there will come a time when personal relevance will fade away leaving only a shell in place of the continuous thought engine that was there before… is this sense?…

Thanks, khet.