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the Treachery of Warfare as Tricked by Authority’s masks.

there are too many times that mind deceives us all, we are held Here against our wills, but said to discover all that we desire through living out the reality which our dreams will create… subdued by the established notions that we are totally helpless to our meaty and over-serious issues as posed by the adult populace we have become a part of when the self-awareness reaches that most critical point in time, a subtle triggering mechanism to many of the organic splendors in life as the blossom breaks open to either sun or moonlight, but the streaming dreams fill in the blanks faster and faster as the whirling coaster shakes us off one at a time… what a dark, little ride this is, my friends… we should all be so lucky to feel the pain of happiness and the uplift of practical disappointment when all else fails, we are twins Here reflecting each other as eyes without a face the retinal prism filtering image into the mind’s eye inside of each of us, and these eyes altogether make that god force we all seem to recognize in different forms… the trick is to keep breathing, the shallow tramps and opportunistic bums crawl the surface like they deserve this thing which is the source of disease, but burns away calmly a filthy light trading favors for paid service to the lip of a volcanic wave… magmatic and intense with those visceral emotions called forth from a deep thought bubbling and chortling toward the steps of humanity last, calling into question the heaving and aborted choices that were never absorbed to begin with, but this is not the attack we fixate upon as the afterwards sinks indiscriminate beneath the skin… the creatures who have created us become equals in the years after birth has came and went with insemination to animal conception into supposed value and worth to the system that lurks just behind a veil of tears, the joyless lie wants to pull us in to create its myths for it in the most explicit ways that sometimes defy the emotional gravity of the personal enmeshed with the fluctuating patterns of the literal, but are we not all artists to one extent or another while allowing the tortures to be inflicted upon us in our fatal fetal posture as we file the others out to pasture because they are casualties deemed worth less than some burger carved from their meat… the ideas are worth so much more, but we are allowed to blind ourselves to reality’s hues while Here in the mix, with some of us looking to up the gain distortion in this heavily filtered prismatic world of filth and faith and fury… we are desperate creatures with a sexual prowess to summon the subtle enjoyments through the mind, but with vulgar expression attached at the lines as they cross over one another in the shapes of patterns from the symbols that work, both in outing the aggression and fixing the depression we have sunk the world soul into as our literary gods become beings of light and back again to this holy zone of fragmented thoughts and protruding wholes from which no one makes it back out “alive”, these are the diseased puppets we serve even as we drag them screaming from behind the pulpits they swerve and writhe with anxious attention… we solve until solution is found, and the roundup weeds us out from the flock of feeble minions minced like many onions to blossom in the reign of blood that leaders have always been the violent poster children for as manufactured to deceive the idealistic and their iconography, cursing the reckless with flavored abandon as to taste the sewage is to dive back in with the slimy hoodlums scheming to take over their underworld… we are the particulate urges as they pierced the veil of secrecy that inhabits our real world with all those hidden wonders, it is implied that everything has meaning and is amazing to behold, but to be told this without the experiencing action is a hollow substitute for the developed movements projecting their stories onto the fabric of this ideal practical reality… we meet each other only partially formed from the proportionate mists enveloping our spiritual distinction, but when the body becomes a force to be reckoned with, it is then that we seem to take hostages and hold this static cataclysm for ransom… looking for some order within the storm of the tragic glazed eyes that resemble humans interjected amongst the swaying chaos like a murder of crows flying in multiples too low, over our heads there the dark cloud goes, but the cacophony lets us in on what disaster we have just missed… by a dark long shot.

Thanks, khet.