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Badgering the Witless

mistakes, and their mistaken identity seen as brief lights in the dark, whore eyes on the prize always even if it means dishonor before death in this impermanence… in the many rites of dishonor there are few that match the day of birth we all share in Here, the clowns of crisp cadence marching down the streets from out of the bowel to which we have placed Hell like an evil sewer below us mere feet away as it tries to stream this shit and piss through the veins placed in haste or vain perhaps, but we cannot totally dismiss the innovation that has occurred along the way to this as a modern day trick of effects we all take as granted even if we do not understand it in some form of comfort or satisfaction to be had… ideas can shake us loose from where we once thought we stood as spastic catalysts to save us from false truths whose true nature lies veiled in secretive hues that stay invisible under the right of circumstances, as the wild requires animals to adapt to make a home out of their worldly ways to survive by trial and error even when there is not enough room to breathe as the fumes from an outside world get heavier and more toxic with each passing series of years, and we as fragments breaking away to vary the song and dance that most people allow themselves to get carried down a stream of conscious consistency that one as a part of the many has never explored… most of this reality is ignored by the populace in general as the pieces of soul go traveling everywhere that humanity can dream as well as other places only housed in the imagination still as yet, a human catapult as that launches one through the sleepy womb into a wakeful division of labors that cannot be fathomed by new fruits as cells newly born units, and we fall and fall again to try achieving a deeper meaning to this incredible pining symptom from which we all shake away the dead leaves onto dirty ground as ideas that drop from trees… knee deep in these weighty issues that chain one to having values at least while no real original opinion seems to be attached to retain the docile humanity as laws would make it appear the easier to achieve, but you pay a lot to get something you truly desire away from the constant stroking choke and hum of daily activity always turned on and making the streets and shops busy places of sanctuary for the beast inside of our forms selling us out, part and sum of the human strain that burdens this starship earth with its dysfunctions and attitude smiting the individual for the bottom line to call forth more prosperity from the vast depths… is it safe?… not really… it never was even if you believe in all those myths because that machine is just as obsolete any more as the rust of the previous generations collapse and bury themselves like heads in the sand, and cringing cowardly as if appearing to yield, as though to allow the birth of a new strain of old worlds on mutant earth inhabited by actual hybrid creatures of worth beyond functional weight that requires to be served and protected like the swine whose self-assured fate rests upon the plate of forces which dine on their powers that be… this cake that one finds themselves chewing for the immediate gratification of some idea of a divine authority which works through people in a conscious manner to a small few that become commanders of this shared vision, but does this allow for the monarch or some other lambasted figurehead with serpent tongue to take the lead in a total scheme charging to conquer the halls of legislature by exploiting all those various loopholes one can muster to escape out from, or are we constantly dividing and reclassifying ourselves for a greater purpose that only the most astringent version of a people’s paranoia comes with the positive benefit to shed weight in the martyr game as lamb of sacrifice for the drooling obnoxious hordes in their passive enjoyment in the remote-controlled symptoms of violence and the dramatic scenes displayed or merely splayed open for the gawking public eye to try and see the spectacle… the victor always searching for the victories and the glories that befit the adventurer as the character seems to forget to show compassion for the victim otherwise become a monster among men, another lesson in the abject art of living as mentioned in the books remarked as history to teach us all the minutia of what we tread lightly upon as subjective subjects objectified by the biased public opinion, and each time one more innovator sets out upon a righteous path to which none have dared to enter it will soon come to pass that this very same route manifests as the standard once the others decide it within their range of wisdom to attempt… the unconquerable which makes our mistakes for us in a manner that makes the most sense in hindsight as one more detail that demands we take notice of their meanings before they derail us from that current train of thought, nor it seems has it ever mattered how it may have grown to be a small tree in the grand forest-sized day of busy things once it begins to extend outward by means other than sunshine, and it is the natural end of human drama to feed the next parts of their passion and energy to the greater whole as a compost it might not even care for the progress of humanity in its cosmic scheming… we are still Here dreaming, and tomorrow will get better…

Thanks, khet.