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enter the Funundrum…

vivid swirling definitions that quake the aching soul from its cocoon, highs and lows that call forth a storming as sweeping conclusion of points made to detail the truth, or the blatant expulsion of lies making us into these faithless clones as the blame is paranoid and complicates things we enjoy like some vicious swarm of greedy gremlins trying to wreck our insides without a valid consent… working between the warped and empty loopholes that fit in this striking real world law as humans have made it their own as twisted little strings, hanging the judges and juries alike despite the urge to search out truth that tries to vivisect our heads and flesh like surging saws and hard sharp blades that cut the swooning fates and threads offense against the rest of the meditative bliss that grates on us from within, and these patricians harnessing saints with their wisdoms through decay like hunters crowding around the corpse once killed to divide up the hoard into shares for people to manage wondering what to do with its pieces next… the skins and bones bleached and dried to clench casual madness where it sits wrapped in the dredges of the last humanity before this modern today with its structures suspended by glass and steel as needles stab into the air, as it is in our homes where the heart craves sin to finally just caving in to collapse these romantic ideals into repercussions of a dubious nature echoing on through the tunnel we are given the chance to go on with, but is it luck that gets us far enough to where egos meet with ids as the heavens secure themselves with whatever twine one can get their hands onto tying binds the meat to the mind and surprise….we need to get at what more than human surrounds this device with robotic eyes staring far and wide between stars and earth to roam whatever direction the machine wants to jerk, but sometimes a spark of life floats in behind the eyes that can mimic and mock within the bounds of casual pause taken to reflect upon the jaws of life as they devour us only to spit us out and spin again, the ouroboros shape twisting in the cosmic drift as another cable or vibration rippling in to summon the forces to communicate with a living transmitter between the ears as it slides in like a worm who knows its goal true… to allow this functional being to perceive by extension of the senses into this unfairly bitter and harsh realm filled with caustic fruits of love’s labors lost to the irate and angry sifting elements, pushing themselves further from the established goals of a sloven system that cares not for its people’s control instead promoting a version of truth as docile and homogenizing imperative as the worldview closes tighter as though it were a sphincter holding back the shitty for the stale and uncomplicated sheltering us all through youth, and a dark tide rising with the breaking conformity as leashing agent to keep the fear in check mated with the ritual wage kept by enslaved hands whose own energy moves the larger cyst’emic infection intact like a creeping death who plans to rule the earth someday… blistering the senses cultivated over too many those of the previous lifetimes to count accurately any more as the vibrations can get denser and denser in meshing with this reality of ours, the singular isolation is keeping from us the art of meeting each other in the friendly ways under an atmosphere of pain and fear as not-knowing seems to outweigh the threat of knowing-too-much, and the bugs scramble as much at once to fix the offending damage as to correspond in this living miasma common strife rotating between the conscious and instinctual as both try urging themselves forward in a crap race to the finish to be flushed away when the real work is done… the mission has always been simple for all to perceive as the greed and violence reach epic proportions of ebb and flow time and again as the good lessons are seemingly forgotten for the chutes and ladders of civilized society leading us by options chosen for us, our leaders make sly remarks which when filtered through over a dozen different channels to prove without a doubt that which makes little or no sage sense at all for the words can create a haze phasing out any obvious connection to righteous sense of self, but would we even recognize as a dupe or victim of deception that we were tricked by the authority that dreams as it claims to feed us with ideas of a greater good vibration that really prevents us from seeing where it is the actual trail leads… the pointed words on whose strength and clarity rests the expectations of a humanity in wait for a great potential unleashed out from under the weight of this dogmatic police state keeping us infected with faith in fate as works our souls into frenzy without remorse, coming to finger the flaws expected from demon hounds of which Mankind is as it attempts to overtake and paralyze the mindset of the wage slave sticking their questions where they don’t belong as new eccentric archetype of the outlaw as anti-hero, but in this case what is the anti-hero’s journey as correlative role to the hero’s journey or protagonist in their questing as warrior for the law of exception?… certainly not exclusively as antagonist or villain in any story though it seems that very little thought or attention is paid to the basis of either of these expressions as the being incarnated Here is creature, the agonist is both the muscle that holds this system together as well as that middle ground lurking amongst the few polarizing sides fighting each other into an endless bionic oblivion with gadgets and gimmicks everywhere left in the wake of this dying of play fair, the creature that is crawling has more than one name as the mobile gallery of faces and opinion has moved before with the carousel fortune wheel’s grace of maniacal glee and zeal…

Thanks, khet.