slow days at the factory, and futile thoughts of the future for a future’s sake…
seems to me just phases through the waves, and I’m the one taking their time…
no paint nor print, or posture low in synchronicity with any other, just written scrawl…
thoughts and prose of madness, one and all, and manifestos without balls…
where we all seem to stall with forethought, and I can’t take the apathy any more…
you may feel small, but where is your thirst for change of mind…
rise and stand tall where the shadow falls below you as you stride into the night, fearless…
please me more than a sense of rhythm, a thing that lends itself over to anything, and still makes depth appear where none might have been visible before… the shallow now does not seem hollow, and rational senses give way to following the music… whether classical or rock-inspired, the muse is never far from the thoughts of all who really appreciate the gift that music can bring… this thing that moves the soul to and beyond the gathered status quotations… a haunting melody is not always the necessary key to the forgiving weight of instant gratification… sometimes it is the momentum of a repetitive rhythm that lends to freedom of mind the most… that freedom of movement we all require in order not to feel as though our actions are controlled by others who don’t even know us… if …
original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton
excerpt; “Life mapped out like – a – maze
“Life in hectic cryp – tic – haze
“I’m left to die in – a – daze
“Floating down those gut – ter – waves
“Like – rats – we – drown!”
original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton
excerpt; ‘He wore a whip and a coat with tails,
While the wicked clowns held boards with nails
I arose, naked and dirty, and screamed at them with weak authority
“He turned and gazed right at me,
And said, ‘Everything’s alright, sonny
It’s time to meet your fate,
At the hands of brutal hate’
understand this decrease…with faltering steps approaching the state of numbness…the dollars fall from the pocket, unnecessary trinkets…possessed fetters of a material existence…the spirits of a central intellect gather around the newborn reality…a gaping hole where the music dies…vast and unforgettable echoes of senses pushing past the boundaries…ghastly quotes from the rogues who eat the slithering silence as they pass…standing at the edge of the public opinion…with regard for no one that defies the collective will of this mob…this is where destiny is said to hold sway over the whole…the technique is the guarded secret of creating cultures…moving the tribes of conscious humanity to the corners of their kingdoms…the mentality of the writhing mass invades the strength of the fairest ruler…undermining the ability to think consistently…for the protective structure…the chitinous form has many layers to formulate and carry out the …
“Magic, practiced more assiduously than hygiene in Morocco, through ecstatic dancing to the music of the secret brotherhoods, is, there, a form of psychic hygiene. You know your music when you hear it, one day. You fall into line and dance until you pay the piper.”
~Brion Gysin; british-canadian painter, poet, writer, performance artist and magician.
locked in a single-minded hustle through the galaxy of unreal space/time continuum, the vacuum of this cosmic device we’ve stumbled upon, and been given a gift of flesh to learn from our mistakes…the outtakes look good in the “outside” world, the place where the dreams are always real for the moments beyond measure, and it is Here from which we have spun ourselves from…the cards are dealt out, and sometimes the dealer takes the lead in the game, sometimes it never happens to be that way…the hearts are mechanical in the most organic form possible as yet…reality has put us at a sense of potent fiction, scientific and technical all at once, and always with roles and functions to suit the varying moods that occur from residing within such a vessel…instill the intent at random, which gives way to …
original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton
excerpt; “Chaos is defined by the order it brings
“Pretty ones are best defined against the ug – ly
“And in truth is where the falsest lies lay
“Spread amongst the glitter and decay…”
the crawling understanding of feeling undermined by the ego of your friendly allies, and taking the time to make that movement deeper into your skin.
out of Context;
‘with questions of intellect turning from the emotional realm to the moralistic, and even into the religious territories of wonder. hurdles and experiences one-and-all, but not without certain rewards to be had. the machine grants the probability for success, and a contented cog is an effective piece of movement, free of distractions and earnest to better progress.’