Nine times…nines times, I have fought for these threads. the clerk nodded, absentmindedly.
seemed to agree with every word I said at-large. clearing his throat, he calmly replied cautiously.
What trouble would you have, sir? my defiant stand made him quite clearly affected, a silent stand.
the lone vagrant diatribe cautiously relents into the darkness of his forgotten intellect, a swine standing. there where a man just stood, relenting against a painful system infecting him. his twisting made leaps into the insecure nature of impact, as the crutches fell away to the floor, and he faced thunderous approach into a concrete surface. the flames ignited through a human anger flew and spewed to the floor. the scream at the end left no doubt at the intrigue in the wake of the apparent. Did you like that, cripple? he was not afraid to …
out of Context;
‘the dirty and nasty traits shot into the culture through society’s veins to affect generations and generations until we defeat ourselves letting those-whom-are-not-to-be to take our places as the cattle…’
amid the hectic pace presented by the wankers, buggers and besotted idiots out there, the truth still lies there borne of grief and shame, and few are impressed enough to pick it up again. these angles of attack and gain are wrong enough to be considered avant-garde, but weak enough to not be considered at all by most people.
out of Context;
‘the narrowed focus of being the truly deceived, manipulated from simpletons planning their checker board tests of strength, and ages remaining to discover what falsehoods can be revealed behind the masks playing havoc behind the scenes… the horrid fantasy world that becomes the game board in action… mocking reality for the fears inherent in other minds…’
this tainted toss oozes lust from the crust
a dark dismay apparent with the skill of a ferret
sneaking the belittled bites into those filthy minds
what powers these mortals think they are squandering
from afar the sight seems wrecked, ramshackle, and split
the terror enters the secretions of the mob as the feelings pour
bleeding like crying for the benefit of more and taking less time spent
tinkling against the pavement becomes a game of thieves on high as fiends
totally aware that they taint and mash our dreams into the pie of belief and cream
bought, buying, sold are tastes of exquisite resonance as the thoughts dance forsaken
expanding fists into hands of needy remorse for lost wages tossed aside for the personal
war of the skill masked by faith in crime of life stealing met by chosen ones in the street level
size of force to manipulate the …
~deacon khet on the fake and weak-willed.
out of Context;
‘we seem to conform to other diatribes of opinion just to satisfy the fiction of an ideal existence… do we sanctify our own ways of being true to ourselves in that harrowing light?…’
out of Context;
‘there is no need for all the constraints in a subjective world of freedom, but controls will always try to make us believe otherwise… believe, and feel the noose get tighter as you misstep… behave, and see your innocence destroyed under the weight of responsible nuisance as the load grows heavier…’
out of Context;
‘waving black flags in the distance, signaling to the others that the fray is still yet in motion, and moving to plunder the next method within this tempest of madness…’
“No man is so foolish but he may sometimes give another good counsel, and no man so wise that he may not easily err if he takes no other counsel than his own. He that is taught only by himself has a fool for a master.”
~ Hunter S. Thompson; american author, artist and iconoclast.
