out of Context;
‘the soul and its driving engine inside this machine trying to understand the degrading of the dream into this nonsense of reality as material destination Here amidst the flocking horde, a worshipful diatribe against we are found within like an egg to be hatched free to release the creature that later dies as random effect of time and space as detail to another puzzling picture put together wrong through the eyes of a preacher taking steps as the many others before him have to cater their interpretation of the biblical proportions to suit what their deluded ideas of a greater good is whether a heart is in the right place makes no difference…’
out of Context;
‘in far too many ages before we even have reached this place, and we are Here much like any comet or comment projected out aloud as clouded idea allowed to escape into this vacant space incarnation within conscious range of a feasible continuum taken in as supposed incarceration where the vast amounts of labor are subconsciously subdued by the system in authority constantly trying to divine efficiency from the hordes of the human condition held so captive by a craze to be the best of these cast-off clones…’
‘sitting, stinging, slinging
… pen to paper
… an authority,
gripped in a cacophony
a phony, mad cockiness
throwing random angles, as angels to faith, manic head full of fate
this tangled stasis, a mass awash in faces, displaces interest between
these jagged fragments, of man incorporating machine, to seize the world
in a capital scheme, the extreme of which, takes a cruel touch
to collapse a hateful trust, dreams to mutate dreams, mutilate and conquer
disagreement achieving, an uneasy humanity, moving slowly across the page
the tormented sage, spilling words of was-dumb, refused or accepted sum…’
‘this? rhythm words, kindness, the inert…’
out of Context;
‘not everything is as it seems to be at first glancing blows as the charm lifts up through the nose salty-smelling assaults those holes filled with a scented will flickering like candles dim in the medieval appropriate chamber for a chapel to pray to a lord god to summon over the sheep mewling by the steeple, and the fat bellies of gods rotted against odds because their lot was drawn before the rest of the parade of worthwhile decay has the rest of us sit and wait for our turn to ascend the few idle cold stares masked and unaware as the energy underneath the solid seeming seamy as it churns…’
out of Context;
‘shining as brilliantly as in moon and sun alight the trails through the stars and cosmic expansion narrowed in this becoming the you ever-changing as you are now as always will be, and even as the flesh melts away in slow death sways or quickly as in the emergency state of apocalypse stains that come like rain through the worm hole by state of the art blitz of nuclear hatred abused by shameful masters that plague us with ready disaster… pieces for free falling off into a pile on the floor as the body shatters apart like an explosion of molten hot core fragmented from the dirty bomb made to cure the infidel womb of its’ heathen possessions, in screaming out for more to claim the right to divide and to compare the evils we see…’
“To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it’s about, but the inner music that words make.”
~ Truman Capote; american author, journalist and critic.
out of Context;
‘the real heretics are the ones who refuse to see and stay open to the active truth that does not stay idle while others allow their minds to stagnate and dry to the traditional excrement they have been fed for ages since calamity was a vital motivation on someone’s score board, though the games are now convoluted in their rules and regulations defining the space of the gameplay as it requires players to adapt to the system as it stands to work within it as it might distract one away from reality whatever it may be other than actually sitting off to the side trying to hide the relevant facts from the rest of the tribe, and trying to isolate those who take sides by deciding to become the villains…’
out of Context;
‘i became another lunatic like the rest… even though no one really noticed this change but me as the alcohol worked its way into my system without any more register than the tossing back of this poisonous urge as the surge of human debris swirls tighter, pressed like ritual slayings in other countries to happen because of this distinctive lack of compassion which leads us all further down the rabbit hole that society seems impressed to keep taking as route to some kind of oblivion chilling at the doorstep…’
out of Context;
‘this crude disease stems and alters our reality edge by dredging up the vacant stares from the disinterested scum who watch the trash late at night with plastic under their thumbs, mocking the mock pictures presented before them in the dark with their slippers and underclothes so well exposed and scraping against the floor like a death shroud clouding up their halls as the well-timed electric sounds whir and hum in rhythm to clockwork days drifting in and out like the tide as something wicked different approaches us with tantalizing words of selling out to the toads who jerk and reside inside the minds of the cattle calling the kettle black or white…’