out of Context;
‘dying scream of doubt to be betrayed by the doctors and their cold stinging err, or the warriors who come out to play and decide they want to kill a man and rob him in the streets crazy from the trip to hell and back attacking another person whether needed or not creates knots in the system cannot untie even as unified and united their might seems to be some good guys some bad guys though the test of casualties becomes the surprising rise in the tidal wave goodbye to eclectic electric gaps far scarier charismas of delicious gravity ahead severing the knots with swirling blades like cyclones whirling a winding wind blown beyond those winsome memory lanes a bit farther than a disciplined Mankind can travel even though from Here you can get very far indeed..’
out of Context;
‘lack of respect from anyone else who might but couldn’t care less… or listen well to instructions to the best of their ability responding as spite when resentful of those fuckers delighted in putting you in your place when they want to out of a despise for your hopeless faith in humanity can this world really be called “just” as in any true justice under a general opinion or public law formulated regulation simply avoided by dismissive agencies that shelters a suspect as if they were that prisoner caught snared by these restless silences siphoning the jolts of kinetic effects we ascribe to “jest” doing anything, can this activity be worth the energy put to it to carry the burdens a little further down paths left unspoken for the most part as exclusive intrusions…’
out of Context;
‘consequence slipping on random obstacles not stable enough to hold us aground of our flights of fancy and fantasy quelled by toxic vibrations that rape us as submission tactic crass as spastic in clutches to cross to bear without being scared almost to death as that requested probability coughed out into that vast darkness that cracks with each step moved in a direction that eats our soul from some external source sour on our course toward oblivion, war and profit as the rest of the last flower children wither and die away peddling their come oddities of ritual onto virtue without caring for the others arrested by thought when an enchanted victim becomes the next to transfer those beliefs onto others out of primal archetypes trying to get the better of us one at a time…’
out of Context;
‘the game cannot be told to the outsiders and those that happen to have their eyes sight exposed then opened to these shadow tactics hidden from those who sleep deeply enough to just slip away lost very casually almost trivially these souls and the ghosts left wandering between worlds of past future present and all locales interstitial to the dimensions greatly speculated over by physical scientists and philosophers and seekers of truth made manifest by the forces holding us to our actions until we respect our personal steps and imprints placed Here in a series of sections some may consider as chapters simplified for the many who do not understand these things… as biblical proportions go we are cut up in a few dozen billion pieces of partially conscious information in walking living organic portals…’
out of Context;
‘the rooster or peacock whose job is to play alpha while praising jah when wobbling on our morals and ethics while in the midst of managing to raise the stakes a little bit higher as though this were something to bet upon… the precise demonic prods culling the queues to an unusual excuse used to abuse the forced of their good behavior projected out onto others to create a mythological message that fulfills a self-manifesting prophecy pushed along by that ambiguous consciousness that sometimes lack a minds’ eye for conscience the science perhaps of conscious pursuit of caring and compassion as solipsistic trial by effort returning those curious elements animating the corpses-to-be we are Here becoming more than animal or aliens trying to perceive what human means…’
out of Context;
‘the purpose to pose as victims of that deathly taste the faceless true god we have all submitted to gracelessly slipping from this conscious consensus bequeathed to us to hem and hum and hah overtly over and over again, or are we faithfully faceless merely as anyones forgotten the centuries drift dripping by as these sands we have convinced ourselves is all Here short supplies on these heathen islands called ‘planets’ by a contrived concept of historical frayed ends left questioning what this is exactly whether really as the scene was specified comes around to our way or not in resolving the personally bitter end increments of any endless wanderings meandering towards those vaulted spaces taken when granted we tried to grunt as specific syllables in the form of fragile bridges that we do eventually abridge…’
“Previously the most lucid artists had wanted to break the separation between art and life; the Situationist International raised this demand to a higher level in their desire to abolish the distance between life and revolution.”
~ Gilles Dauve; french author, political theorist, school teacher and translator in a Critique of the Situationist International, 1979.
out of Context;
‘dysfunction fashioned by some as being hip… these people are idiots and in the long run we all die anyway so what other conclusion does one need except nihilism and love when the crass and embittered sides of our thoughts require that fuel surging triumphant fury through the furnace a soul becomes channeled properly though never with the programs one sees upon the tv screens causing bewildering patterns to emerge when no one else yet is to look in timed harmony with the rest as humanity stacks its invisible odds on the worst bets, surrender was never words talked about when heavy doubts are revealed exposing the trends for any possible mends for that cosmic tapestry we are caught lounging on as seen by some perhaps as a still life from afar on islands of free will…’
out of Context;
‘a bliss on repeat as a hell might seem if released unleashed creating a victim of self we may liken to the ‘beast’ gone into a frenzy in front of the wrong people and their people to then be held totally accountable for the smashed fury crashing through sudden suspense then faces grey with disbelief that this could be as one of those devilishly intense phases we all read about or see on tv allowing us a pseudo-experience through the viewing, but we are still reactionary puppet heads used to represent our districts when given the chance though good leaders are still very difficult to find and the times are far in between such years of any offices on magnitude of that authority which seems to have never been taken seriously against the grain…’
out of Context;
‘tactics followed since birth for many of us scraped off the shoe in a time of needy betrayals and unfit figures taking turns or letting go once things turned sour as milked wounds pushed onto burn over sparking nerves left to drag the dark past open to flame on charcoal balefires scalding those persons who were often women in ages comparable to those cultures now who were wrongfully condemned to be put down after being chased and hunted usually as a game played by the richest for sport while few of those skills were able to actually apply as those same distracted eras thought to have separated completely from medieval times are that wrong, and far from truth as though gods would say anything was deserving of painful punishments that could ensure that death wouldn’t be quick…’