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Punching at ghosts.

a dying disservice to the wounded and the belligerent among us Here as the party keeps roving the countryside between the shifting sifting sands of time in its hourly home, the ghosts are hosting the event of the century making the modern world a seemingly stupid affair by comparison as they succeed where perhaps any more the righteous and intelligent of us fail, but we are still invited to the masquerade where shadows play in the foreground while the dancers are trapped in the background ever teased behind the mirrored wall of glass entranced by the Mystery perceived… the dark inside of the mirror shades the transparency so that the vision beheld in its face can be now realized as a reflection to those surface qualities which can never be erased, but now always change over time as the world slides between human roles and natural toils to reconfigure itself in managing and controlling the forgeries of this human beast in writhing along the surface of the earth oppressed by ignorance… the distortion shows a different vision televised by those advertising to the sheltering mass to take cover and take charge as the enemies are trying to drop their bombs upon our culture as our culture devours theirs under a universal banner, no more meant to be understood than this simple pattern of ‘kill or be killed’ perpetrated by the war-brained in lodging complaints under false names or through sources that work only in the best interests of the hideously villainous, but Here we are giving up so much so that only a few can be privileged enough to access the finer things in life without ever having to truly acknowledge what has actually gone into the progress of this social machinery… a travesty that we cannot seem to prevent ourselves from harming the environment held so dear and so vital to lasting beyond a couple thousand years as this place gives more than harsh retribution, but also treats us to learning more about ourselves without requiring us to destroy in order to move forward in active embrace of the growth and growing we are constantly doing for many reasons… some we know not as they work out their own magic underneath the surface layers to recreate the excitement of innocence without a stagnant foolishness that makes the pain and suffering a gauged constant, as used in formulas and patterns that set sights on the sealed deal made meal or a feast for the wicked drowning in the long trip that this overabundance brings flinging its vitriol and gore in a disgusting parody of the high standards we reach for to never be blessed enough to grip, but we hold still when late in the night as our primordial dreaming cakes the soul long enough for a dreamer to stay alive and thriving outside of this condemned building we are housed within as the dysfunctional family attempting to resolve all matters before leaving this stasis… as we scratch and claw our way clinging to the past with no lens of remorse for what has had to be done in order to get where we are standing now cursed and morally responsible for the current state of reality, digging in those sharp spurs of cowboy wild righteous ignorance that occurred to make sense out of the wildernesses left set on slow decay as a world yearning for some ironed-out contract of absolutes in as fetishistic a practice for the businessman culture burning the midnight oil at both ends to make these corporate collectives now considered “people”, but the mold only engrains a shape for so long before the molten substance melts away what is substantial to the enmeshing of microcosm to macrocosm in the great cosmic scheme of things… we are left this endless debating to make some sense of the senseless acts like a cancer in remission in anticipation of the comeback special a few years ahead into the future of colors as called the ‘Now’ by some who are aware, traces of the meanings as their various hues in translated shades of the same grey by this interpretive filter that manages our own unique systems to give us the distance necessary in thoughtful consistency beyond the conspiracy rampant like a swarm taking out those trying to find a valid path out of this current manifestation, but much like the karma we seem to feel more than to see the effects echoing from the original instance of mayhem as stirring conclusion for what has come afterwards in our more modern timeline… training ourselves to easy tasks before we cease to be trying to disregard human compassion as tool used to socially accept what survives past the threshold of comfortable while the liars-in-wait will have their say, with stories and the essential goodies that incriminate all enemies they hate or who won’t sublimate themselves for the defined rules of the “greater good” to which so many decent people ascribe without questioning fate, but an armful of lessons will not make things better if there are no persons willing to take the plunge into a foreign perspective that is not their own as risks of Mystery take precedence over an ideal of safety… the real Mysteries will guide us further than technology alone is able in these strange days…

Thanks, khet.