Pausiously.
sweeping the feat out from under me… the movements pause cautiously, and that stalking cat walks out in the sun, presenting itself to the gods from above… my mightiest asset has become the foreskin on my head, as it plumps when you cook them, the sweet smell of defeat exquisite… locked eyes with the bull by the horns, and it warned me of my first steps, the meat becoming heavy in the guts as it decides to break on through to the other side… the culture that cradles one when they first wake up becomes the cannibal saint training you the survival games we play, as though the purpose really is so great, but it is epic on many scales and layers as we master the personal disasters that plague one throughout adulthood… pushed on by the inflicted ideal of the state, another dog thrashing about leashed onto the sleigh, and we are all Here to move the monument which has become our crazed cultural icons… to admit my submission to a whole wide world that knows nothing of me is to prepared for the return of that energy, the hologram selves await the gathered initiative to move, and a deep-seated urge to swipe a position between the ridiculous and the absurd to gather up the nerve… that quotient of eclectic electricity without violence, but signify the act covertly in the presence of others, unhindered by curses nor criticisms thrown my way… the baiting and naive atrocious at lying to deceive, an aid in covering the evidence of hideous faces beneath the veneer, and with opinions filtered in by poll to await the occurrence of some unforeseen script error… to catch the cryptic statements in a safety network as they fall from thin silk, the trees unreal growing to root in our fetal zeal as the stumps grow out into leaves, and blown out like the knees as the aged threads become frail and slender without a mender to fix the seams… so now one must walk with a skiff, or at least some kind of structural support in place of the whim, dimwits with small minds challenge the fixed wedge as it wears thinner still… to give up too quickly is “retard”, or i’m sorry, to be retired… making us no better than any other moron among us, which we are anyway you slice it even if you defend yourself otherwise, and nearly everyone seems utterly blocked by this polarity of spirit… to move too quickly in a direction you wish uses velocity of state to make one numb enough to understand the new information, but polarizes those who have no idea of the range of experience within their vapid opinions based upon other opinion yet still, it seems as though no two ends of the same scaled and visualized spectrum would be able to be connected… however, it is this bizarre attraction between the opposites that literally reacts by pulling their frequencies together, and can be utilized in favor of true will if there is an earnest desire to learn and to know things unknown… what secrets on the issues of compromise and working collectively can be gleaned from the interaction between Here and there?… the eternal dreams can cast themselves aside for the greater good, but can we as human beings ever concede that we affiliate ourselves with more than the betterment of our works, some motion inside the circuitry created by this charge between polar forces… a reaction slowly melting down into one state of reality bent on dominating us through the back door in the dark of night, even those zombie agents of other things walk down the streets in daylight now, but do we can we even really see as we need to see?… what were any of us really ever meant to see, as we look closer at a few trees at a time when taking in the whole forested area, but what else can we say to ourselves when we are looking in the mirror?… the silence in sounds are most filled with that frequency phantasmal leaking through me and you, trains of thought flashing by in their race to meet their destinations, and exceptionally beyond the frames of time that creep in after the concept has been built… finally, a light at the end…
Thanks, khet.
Posted by :\_khet on April 2nd, 2011 in blogging, dark thoughts, my art & dreams, p for Periclitate..., personal afflictions, rants & raves. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.