All The Wrong Topics dot com

Dys Grunt

so Here we are, friends and foes alike, lodged in the abyss where developing tides of energies energize and devour the disguise of centuries seen as the breakdown of everything as it seems in this epic drama ever unfolding to us… as dizzying, the cycles spinning uphold the erected monument to our effort as civilized diseases fill the skeletal structure in place before the corruption occurred, and endured past all human tribulations and trials in err as the history cast us in absolute and insensitive roles to be used and parleyed as an unwritten law that makes everybody do what it wills subtly haunting the bodies committing themselves to this nonsense as ever in motion… striving to hide the hive mind behind occulted rituals and subtle stinging words used to manipulate the population into subconscious fear games that push us all to compete in the great hunt as predator or prey, and as some of the more deluded prepare themselves to die in the struggle alone as wild beasts harvested for their scalps or goods or identities depending upon whatever the case may be, certainly not a need though to be sure in the motives of people as they proceed to give or take as their nature calls them in relationship to their environment… amused to tread where others feel as flight or fancy the serious dread manufactured in our heads to promote self-interest over all mass experimental sentiments instead, we bear the burden bored of the servants as elite intrusion masks the exclusion of the revenue-making schemes to abuse the resourceful manners utilized by the unkind gesture Mankind engenders as vampiric symptom that symbolizes humanity’s holy attempts to evolve and develop beyond merely sad sentient creatures scanning the dials for other frequencies to observe, and distracted to get further away from our own homegrown perils provided by this systemic infection which shuns the human eyes infected with misleading lies and concepts on which to build a new world for the hoarders of commodities in response to a natural order to things… the swinging scythe that bites the sky and elemental rights of all officious factions as afforded to those with the significant privilege to bomb the world with fascism and ideals of it weighed heavily like water droplets in the clouds, the thoughts scream raining from the darkly saturated heavens of demon control and devil law oppression leaving acid stains all over the ground as a scarred scared reality of paranoid individuals panic and attack one another in an effort to get the better end of the raw deal made by humanity in order to subvert the opinions of those static and comfortably stuck in the midst of the subtlest war between enlightened Self and conveniently captivated by the motion of Self set to the timing of a greater distortion that the human body can gain by achievement, and it is all relative and reckless eroding a tearing away of conditions asserted by the rational Self who observes all of this seeing the decay in the center of the newborn vision acquiring substance… trivial mystics work upon the wonders of our civilized nations as iconoclastic frames of reference in which to capitalize on either misery or the elimination of such feelings, but we see with the shaman a different approach to harmony between the inside and outside realms of humanity, something that neither elements of scientific renovation can fathom from depths to native to breach out of the darkness as the light spoils what starts as an unbridled potential to which few will ever consciously witness as a living being… i can’t relate the information that sacrifices me to the cosmos to any of you in the out there, and my words are little remedy to understanding the plight that falls upon us in the modern dimension between time and place as authorities to whatever the current situation we find ourselves entered into without remorse… it is okay to worry when there is circumspect reasons to jump toward risky behaviors that confuse the open human soul into a narrowed view of nature’s reality taken for granted, but are we the dark spots on the Son or the valuable source to divine expression that many are wholly unaware of while gorillas in the mist, a fogged and dogged jungle bred with the bastard children of revolution as it searches for a time and a space that will allow for the universe to unfold and bring to fruition the flower of destiny as has to be ill-fed to grow from the morass of this swampy gravity well that sucks so well…

Thanks, khet.