a slit wrist for good luck.
out of Context;
‘the subjective truth lies buried now six feet under where the worms writhe in silent earth. what do you care, however, for this predicament that you have lead yourself towards?…’
Poor, Little Clown
original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton
excerpt; “With a cleaver in one hand and a fork in the other
“He eats out his prey like he did his own mother
“You’ll never take him down
“No, you never will
as he rolls to your townâ€
NEKRO-FEEL-IA (formerly Necro-gasm)
original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton
excerpt; “Here I stand, alone in the dark;
In the presence of fear, with the casket so near
Come to me, I’m calling to you;
Rise from your tomb, my dead dear
Please…(hear me…)
Please…(touch me…)
Please…(feel me…)
Please…(fuck me…)”
“the Madness of Houses”
original songcraft by C.Michael Keaton
excerpt; ‘…Internalize the hatred that I feel…internalize the pain that tries to peel…away the veneer that I’ve tried to make…love and hate for all the dues I’ve paid…internalize the pain, internalize the shame…externalize your name…a slow death process on glimmering wings…’
Quote o’ the Month; November…2006
“Advertising is a business of words, but advertising agencies are infested with men and women who cannot write. They cannot write advertisements, and they cannot write plans. They are helpless as deaf mutes on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera.”
~David Ogilvy; british advertising tycoon aka “the Father of Advertising” circa 1962.
khaos kollective
There is a way to make the will manifest as music to stir the soul, and my quest is merely in making such possibilities so, though it feels that I am pressed to make this a reality myself…
Slimming down to fit into the coffin
The basement is closed to us.
A flush of excrement welled inside my pants.
This is what they have always meant by change.
My scrotum crawls up into my abdomen.
The choking feeling of change for change’s sake.
My limbs feeling as consumed by fire.
Wallowing in misery for far too long to fathom.
Gripping my sides in welling agony as dread fills me.
A new light opening my eyes.
As the sweat pours off my skin.
A new awakening begins to show.
The nerves start to crackle with pain.
The anticipation to interject a different energy.
The stomach clenches, and butterflies fill me to spilling out of my mouth.
The reactions to a voodoo logic as the magick becomes far more.
Falling to the knees, my body begins to thrash around, and the skin is electric.
When it’s all gone from me, somewhere I lose the train of thought, and the light fades in.
Thanks, …
The movement
out of Context;
‘A compromise of thought and the capacity for making movement a reality, we find ourselves where we are for reasons beyond our current range of knowledge, but we don’t like knowing that even though as a whole we are probably past the point of no return…’
Musings of the ornate
out of Context;
‘…One must roam overflowing the heart’s content, questing for a substance that will only exist once beyond this, and all will be okay when the dust settles…’
Late night monsters
out of Context;
‘We must realize that all isn’t the form, it is only that which contains this energy for a time, and the material world is only the lingering ideas of immortality by abstraction…’