intenses.
tendrils of sonic facets sparkle slicing through the air towards me with octopus’s grace.
the first sane word.
feeding the imagined soul, not the outer hollow realms, but the real ideas that manifest outside ourselves.
the real live among us.
‘when you see those daylight vampires upon the streets, you tell them from me that the nine to five ain’t working out, and they need to raise the minimum wage Here…’
Deity Dead
original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton
excerpt; ‘a murky sampling of earth as law
but we know we are more free
than that when we are emptied
into a world so raw, we come…’
random Quote of the Day
~Hakim Bey on untouchability and hipness of the dead and where the living are.
Living in a Vacuum
original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton
excerpt; ‘…willed insanity through the blood on our hands
sanity’s one last stab, grabbing on to lock mind in
just for the fix, stabbing arm shaking bones…’
the post-13th.
the marriage of the ridiculous to the erroneous was in stark contrast that day of days…the sacrificial scapegoat scraping by on loose amounts of change and reason…an altered ego applied against the fascist status quo with onward fears of where to go next…the ulterior motive sways precariously from limb to limb, and my senses reel from the chaos that ensues therein…the drive is a creative one, but manifests in bold swatches and swathes over time’s collapsing rays of hope…seeking release deserves its period in the son…wordplay not so much a game as a means to express and digress throughout all progress Here…discoveries of the other parts of me are taking hold, and my mind defiles the kindness that forces itself upon the others…authority counts the moments until my demise, and my eyes can’t see what the point ever truly …
the pre-13th.
so another one is on the horizon again…how severe to be stuck in this space of confinement yet again…the motion turns it on tomorrow, but my eyes need not see, no ears to hear through static contemplations…the intriguing sustenance gained from positive flow is undeniable, and makes my feelings ring with a passionate pace, though the negative space filters in through like a radioactive drip that keeps lingering inside the instinct…an industrial strength flair for the impassioned plea to exceed…the goals from parents, the thoughts towards a desecrated future, and the delivery of pursuit into an even darker reality…what is this fear that resides in mind of the hatred that succeeds to pull the distracting muscle pushing backwards on the teeter-toter of realized experience and the nature of second-guessing?
….I speak of jealous things that well-up from the heart, eating …
Blood Muscle
original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton
excerpt; ‘I want to rip you from the inside
spread your ugly lips so wide
take the time to do it just right
so tender and nice and tight…’