out of Context;
‘preference for a chosen responsibility instead of ones handed to us to be stretched like a tool sometimes abused by the system considered mild treatment for what it is said “we get what we deserve” as little compensation for any pain or loss contradicting the ideal of a ‘greater good’ floating about like a god as some ethereal judge or supervisor attempting to correct all visions into one endless goal which might not exist if it weren’t for the assembly of these people contributing all the blood sweat and tears they have to this bitter competition-based religion worst of all yet… motion make believing, mocking, or stubborn hatred for the unknown Other can create an insular and impotent posture for one who would react as though their viewpoint is THE ideal…’
out of Context;
‘we leap through loopholes in our systemic infection showing off how jumping through a loop on fire won’t phase us at all… the vampires within all of us suckling parasitic in the soul as our shadow stirs underneath the skin when the light of day has flown away home to await the next, and as those left here resemble statues in the rain oxidizing in the open space wondering for what reason we have to chase these things we do in vague and subtle ways that escape even the poet’s powerful potential for saying as the memory a page resurrecting itself to cause the lips to enunciate with the proper precision as an artistry beyond the artist who displays the right sequence of talent and learning as watermark left and made the standard…’
“‘The Civilized’ murder their children by producing too many of them without being able to provide for their well-being. Morality or theories of false virtue stimulate them to manufacture cannon fodder, anthills of conscripts who are forced to sell themselves out of poverty. This improvident paternity is a false virtue, the selfishness of pleasure.”
~ Charles Fourier; french utopian socialist and philosopher.
out of Context;
‘try filling in the spaces to resonate and relate to this hanging onto concepts that seem to make sense in my head though not always when applied thinking in limitations with a practical mindset trying to affix and focus upon the end result of this behavior… coming to the call and answering with blank vocal monotone to show just how disinterested i am to be saying this directly into your ear while out the other end you are there listening in on the conversation converting in electricity the ranges of human emotion telling me, no, dragging me to reap these just rewards…’
out of Context;
‘sharing ideas between spaces of loss and laziness while at the same time finding an inspiration to fly away from the burning sun turning into the shadows to glimpse another sight of the dark heart the soul tries to hide in code like anachronistic nursery rhymes cursing us with their blind subconscious impetus, yet we might try to force control for at least a little while living in these holy shells chosen ammunition of the gods who know no better than to fuck with our morals and our laws by instilling layered meanings into the virtues we seek to stabilize and defy the random chaos writhing all throughout this fragmented of a psycho-social display of dominance, and frying the nervous side of a physical mind…’
out of Context;
‘the contrast of ideas berating quality of depth to which finding myself irresponsibly throwing around terms half-strewn of the brain like ‘beating a bum rap’ that’s been hanging loose around my neck for years now like the well-framed critic whose near-untouchable intimidation to be used in mocking me, and a furious audience taunting my subtlety of technique as at first we seem to enjoy each other’s presence in the short times we have Here soon erased by tiny bit as the tension melting our second opinions into formative opponents combating us internally in the urge to face this social reality figuring we might ride the waves or weather the storms together on this friendship…’
out of Context;
‘the new ages without impossible odds stacked up against us in its own mocking trying to ground the animal in what it is and what role it plays in the rushing hoodlum onslaught of opportunistic traitors as only the villains seem able to move any of the pieces in whatever fashion they wish, and by the pushing of their ideal elite standards upon us as a whole society there have been many fatalities as the wealthy nihilism gets taken to extremes in this money-hungry culture of vapid claims and insolent charges all seeming to sell something for nothing… we keep rebuilding a world that is in a constant flux by settling massive structures in places where the people have begun to revolt as the wealthy expose their sheltering claims for the brittle lies…’
the real me is but a pigment from your fragmented imagination, constipainted…
defined by the palette and hues in your hand, the brush your guide to the inside…
the mind pouring out its’ wisdom, drained of a cacophony clamoring for retreat…
voices of spirit taking over, perhaps the ghosts of past or present regrets…
the meat of the brain might distract away, though sometimes as obvious change…
enlightenment the vital remains creeping in, to prevent the ficklest of fate…
choices seem random at first with few certainties, except for those one sees…
‘There was nothing particularly odd about him. No facial veins or clumps of bristly warts. I told him about the motel woman’s description and he seemed puzzled. “Don’t let it bother you,” I said. “Just keep in mind for the next few days that we’re in Louisville, Kentucky. Not London. Not even New York. This is a weird place. You’re lucky that mental defective at the motel didn’t jerk a pistol out of the cash register and blow a big hole through you.” I laughed, but he looked worried.
“Just pretend you’re visiting a huge outdoor loony bin,” I said…’
out of Context;
‘our ulterior motives sometimes those internal mechanisms we are not aware of clockwork twitches moving the spastic frame into places it perhaps would not have dared otherwise without consciousness in this efficient functional reality grinding along, ticking out measured moments on as man-made a face as no one adores watching the flickering hands displace slow hours into waste that chills the bones because the time slips away in the shortest increments that no one stops to appreciate except occasionally me and those handful of others lurking behind the sealed off screen door to the digital floor, and ‘ding!’ Here we are in the last place you’d expect from the shallow ways of Mankind whose kindness seems either harsh or cruel to inhibit a casual growth of rebellious youth from cropping up again and again…’