out of Context;
‘a scattered mortal tragic excuse that hammers the cleaving blow home to lop off one’s head as though this brand of guillotine justice were ever finished existing for the violent execution of lazy executive decision through and through… the scammed out enslaved by that simple yet syrupy delicious that makes people shiver down their spines through a seat to their souls as an electrifying zeitgeist to arrive absolute at whatever obtuse angle that means to those of us that observe this mess, in the empty zombie eyes laughing…’
out of Context;
‘as motivation tries to free the unkind from their hatred that makes them incompatible with humane interaction as this molten temper tempers the metaphysical us through connective tissue challenging our preconceived notions injected like junk for the monkeys trashed and wondering who will be the one to take care of them, but to swing the fixated monkey off one’s back is not an easy task to complete for those of us who cannot tame that inner wild beast breeding comfort with curiosity and rebellion…’
‘poet, as dreamer and artist, takes the simple cosmic gestures to heart as yet another lock and key formulaic state residing within each of us even as our states of being sure of this concept are divided in complimentary symptoms to beat back this systemic infection… fascist age learning curve purging of the hatred and all that attending ignorance that has us pointing raping fingers in political correctness at each other to better our worst enemies of course not the ones within ourselves making others into victims in oblivious pursuits to individual happiness’
out of Context;
‘those congested trivialized tidbits of information at our fingertips typed away into a beginning as a digital culture… we know not what future beings we shall become to appear as though we will shed the human chrysalis if we choose the right steps that shimmy in place in front of us as aligned to change reality for the truly better instead of worse than it is in the Now as it all distorts our perceptions, a selfish glory possessed by a sorting out of others’ messes for them without evaluating one’s own mistakes and karmic debt traveling through the rough draft we all try to catch in our own ways…’
out of Context;
‘taken to the gallows we are innocence of the repressed disposed of and oppressed the presence we have taken as image of death angels with grinning skulls and draped in a black vast expanse moving forever outward by this essence trying to recycle through real parts of these consciousnesses… left as maps for any who can read them like blinking stars in the braille of outer space sensed as signs of life lighting the darkened empty in strings of illumination taken too far to remind some of their stardust beginnings…’
‘As insurance that things won’t always be this way…’
~JG Ballard on the superfluous role of the fiction writer.
out of Context;
‘whacked-out fiends, proliferating this ablyss without enough sense to rub together to create solid thoughts or valid schemes that might in this lifetime resemble dreams to look forward to without intruding onto others’ feet to do so, but even if this isn’t a trick used to catch us gasping as we grasp for some reason and logic like air in a breath caught reeling in our fears all in one second of reflection as though it were all destined for us to suffer through hell in each other… consequence in the nothing…’
out of Context;
‘breaking some obscure boundary, the horizon line at once seen in the distance by the naked eye while the artist inside tries to achieve a new view of these complex designs as they move through the nude reality unanchored by life, but scavenging tricks of the tragic age massive with movement as the agonistic bodies disenfranchised with this subdue of the hemorrhagic imagination calling into response ability the blood and the gore in understanding what magic it is we are creating…’
“Male and female represent the two sides of the great radical dualism. But in fact they are perpetually passing into one another. Fluid hardens to solid, solid rushes to fluid. There is no wholly masculine man, no purely feminine woman.”
~ Margaret Fuller; american journalist, critic, women’s rights activist and translator.