out of Context;
‘a lack of respect on my part for alcohol’s shamanic and magical qualities, even if it was malt liquor from the convenience store, it was a fusion of negative imagery that lead to a false positive effect on me… in the midst of all this, my musical aspirations were both put on the alter of sacrifice, and alternately saved from the burning wreckage with promise of another day… however, in hindsight that is all there seems to be in the cards for me if i cannot learn from the missteps i make, a willingness to put myself where i don’t belong necessarily…’
out of Context;
‘there are many more sacraments to leave behind without needing to border on retarded this year… becoming a drunken lout only looks good from the inside, but from the outside, you cannot get any shit done in any “sane” way… thanks, saints…’
out of Context;
‘we can take quite a bit from the previous time lines we have lived within, even the myths and folklore create a primal memory for the rest of us to be involved in, and makes up the forgotten foundations conceptual of civilization… the mythic operating system or MythOS… case in point, the working class on our way to ascension of the next great age, as though like the Olympians before us, needing to usurp the mass hysteria of the Titans before we get eaten by this systemic infection…’
out of Context;
‘my passion is restricting while also being expansive, thus taking my soul with it on a powerful trajectory somewhere, but how can we even begin to think we can fathom that depth to which there is no stone to drop except the self?… now i am Here, self-incriminating and trying to make the most of my dabbled arts, and dying to figure out whether or not this whole shindig is worth it… i have to face my fears, and some may shy away from my particular issues, giving no credence to my own self-respect… these are the self-possessed as much as i am…’
out of Context;
‘we invest our creative energy to those so-called “sane” people because we refuse to lead ourselves with responsibility… so the point is that we actually allow our leaders to send us over the edge of the cliff, and we relentlessly complain when things don’t go our way, still we don’t seem to do anything about our situations… expecting changes from another source entirely…’
out of Context;
‘a dangling whip-like appendage, the Clitic, stands distinctive in this corrupted linguistic trick of the mind… the process of control seems like a theory of control, different for each unique character scripted in this act, and appearing as continuous variables uninterrupted by time… even as our vertical awareness stirs our soul, the opinion mentioned earlier is responsible for sending out batch quantities of life for specific end results, to control a discrete robotic assembly working to manifest its will… a theory on process theology could be described as not everything is god’s will, but god has a will in everything as all experience contributes to the process of reality, you could further break that down into god as persuasion…’
out of Context;
‘how does one think about anything without a trail of vomit to follow from the lips?… the evil animate tricks that wish and guilt trip the rest of the social structure into collapse, but bring your own umbrella as the glass shards rain down into this soft parade charade, the mighty swinging thing that creeps and calls our names from the distance… the restricted wits of the Prometheus bound, a crass metaphor for what could work for intelligence in a world quite this fiendish, as it postures and pounds so hellishly upset of true impotence…’
out of Context;
‘devotees… this materialism has an equal, antagonistic quality to “concrete” reality, but is one tangent to qualify the real question of what other pieces fit in to form a synthesis of truths Here?… complying with the “hard-to-be-precise” crosshatching of the various gamuts and steps leading us to believe what we do…’
the world warps around the continuous consciousness that grows…
emitting a signal that replenishes the dynamic of energy that gets drained
as the cosmic joke funnels our souls into this chaotic state of matter…
we wash ourselves with the pity and sorrow and laughter
inherent in the suffering of succotash…
the diabolic parabola, the learning curve where the junk collects,
whether at the bottom or in the middle of the air…
the objective? the collective? a struggle…
we were meant to juggle our reality by the thread of a yo-yo,
and by then the merry jester tugs back upon our dreams…
like a simple-minded fisherman reeling in the catch…
the imagination gets a fierce degree of gravity from the inner child,
bearing the bubble back to the ground, but quickly caught off-guard
by the up-thrust of windy retreats…
where is the imagination left now?…
gliding off into gilded realms unknown…
the karmic …
out of Context;
‘some complexity protrudes from the organ which i call a brain, this projected something is where i am left standing with imagination to my right and the hastily quicksilver critical faculty to my left, and the internal conflict wells up like a fount to express in random symbols hurled to face those demons full-front…’