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Touch the Enslaved

turning the human animal into either a productive tool with no idea of any of its other potential qualities to being superhuman through emotional alchemy and discipline, as a midas’ touch makes the impure lead into golden commodity, but what is considered impure by a society always in desire of better traits to wash over its citizens as conditional to the behavior of those conformists and their sources?… we are awash in the innocent blood cut by the supposed gigantic master plan that makes mortal men and women shiver with fear and guilt under a foreboding monolithic shadow which falls upon any subordinates and all sinners alike, as metaphorical general Law biting into literal mortal flesh without fail to render tissues used and discarded like the issues that are righteous somehow wronged by a replicating system that takes the viral motion charging this digital collective to heart, and this is something the ignorant have willingly tried to anchor into a vortex of personal gravity in order to smash and then quiet the debacle that would naturally result from the current intrusive state of today as feels overrun by angst and those heinous and tyrannical powers trying desperately to stabilize their hold on the Western mindset flooding the airwaves these shards of steady glaze… iced like a slick sanctuary sold for a dollar to show good faith in the trickery expected nay demanded by the audience so their expectations are not shattered too suddenly as in this very dark age indeed, where the average bystander expects to get swindled at every opportunity as it might present itself as far as the speculative reality is concerned filing the ants away by order of the cabinet into indefinite detention for which any common person would rebel against, and that is exactly what this system would reject as well as snuff out before any total revoking of the current regime were to occur at all when even the mere mention of ideas having advanced to such a degree that all reasoning now includes a variant of the ironic default to which personality somehow nullifies the instinctual or civil compassion for fellow beings… as in the common workplace where misery is so surreptitiously centered for the low-wage worker with no options or skill set that hasn’t been standardized into the televised mindset over the generations, the factories and the fast food drone machines that further propel the junk into our veins whether we like it or not make no difference to the current powers-that-be as they sit atop their ivory watchtowers in mortal splendor making the most of the repugnant human sources of work benefiting the world which runs on the diaspora come from rich and oily reptilian DNA shooting out like pus from a sore, or sucked from the sedimentary layers of rock and churning fire that heats and cools and reforms to create more mass that may or may not drown beneath the watery grave hinted at by the relative doom theorists out there claiming one death or another for this protean inhabitant at our feet… a creature like this will only fight back as it has for the endless millennia it takes to figure out why all Her organisms decide they either want to shame, hate or murder the earth for all the worth that can be gained like that futility becomes the lesson from which the conscious Earth grows to understand what its own creatures do like scientist might study the cells we are as given the choice to become cancerous or to stay open to the constant biological mutation, or frozen solid into a frame of timed human existence in motion from the bubbling primordial stew that is the heart of this conception engine working organically from all elements as combined in this fourth dimension of time from which stems life… golden consciousness stays separate from the actuality of living tissue as this is a realm where things move in cycles, and behind the eyes are realities more abstract than casually practical which collide and define an emotional eye can see as it looks beyond the flesh and bone shown again and again to break loose often offering no explanation as to what truth means or matters to the rest of the canvas displayed… the human chooses its existence as a test of the more frictional parts of the real as reflections in a pool or a mirror provoking the images to move as vice versa the images have revealed what the beings do as they move, suprahuman all the way to whatever consciousness we perceive as god are forces immaterial but in no way diminished by the lack of a visible proof beyond tales of mythical origin each coming to fruition of truth as a single branch on this tree of life becoming a living thing that grows from conscious explorations in the dark matter of reality, and it is this which sparks electric the human into feats of strength and resilience as much as those most heinous and terrible acts as the image comes to reality in order to be witnessed and recalled back into the collective conscious reflection… a ghost seen…

Thanks, khet.