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a Rhesus for a jesus…

the monkeys wrenched loose the doors of perception to push and shatter that precarious illusion of stagnant drama leaving in steaming piles that as separation between man and animal the binary code to keep the natural as demons at bay with mystic chicanery ornery mainly amongst the ancients as their arts are so many traditions taken for fact and enshrined to fables older than whatever most history data retrieved has shown allowing for this type of social debris that we do see every day, and then get used to the trash blowing in through these streets like the tumbleweeds bottles and cans and paper collected into great heaps and bounds housing an insanity that crawls away oxidizing humanity for those superstitious stays of execution demanding the pogrom within these programs as savors the killing off of the undying fealty felt active that faith acting under the skin microscopic explaining the fading of times into people and their images but the tensions have taught us nothing special which is how we feel able to excuse or justify our unreasonable actions, in faith like fate and filth are extremes a deliberate way because these routes as roots are made by an absolution of choices whether yours or mine and they all stick with us as experiences throughout our journeys Here or in the out there intermingling with the new age thought architects of a new anarchy whose subtly disguised opportunism is another fabled lesson to give out to the masses as though a tract written without tact or not lacking on subversive mockery sold to us as the best of advice trying to attack life’s span mapping this down subjective avenues that terrorize the person as another victim among the vectors and methods in covert social indoctrination as certainty cults become prolific in their multitudinous versions of similar visions taken as fact against the grains of superstition ruling out a mob mentality nightmare that is there… wicked and larcenous prophets whose bottom line tends to be profits by proportion of what one can get out of it in selfish scratched back dances crossing lines where there were none before when bounds are drawn in personal spaces kept sacred for the benefit of the individuals being defended by the spirits that are attracted as moths to a light bulb brightly baring visceral proof of a visual enlightenment viewed by those choosing to see that vital moment, when light and reason don’t give the slightest inkling of where this page starts or turns until the writing is read and the words make some sense down to the barest bottom line understanding what thinking keeps us willing as subjects and comic foils to be observed with scrutiny killing sanity as one saint at a time falsely perceived to have healing hands, but the troops of followers are prepared to die for a justice long lost to the monotony a monopoly upon all in practiced aspects humane committing to an authority which does not have awareness like the creatures faintly active in the cosmic weight of social gravity…

Thanks, khet.