lingering suction upon the primal drain that is the narrowing channel
directing this humble flow of waste, the venting out of hasty retreading
upon details and diameters suffering out the movement of diversity, but
how to describe this ridiculous spindle of swindle?… the pretentious
fascist facade that decrees and perceives us when we are waking and
asleep, and demands the surface of devotion among the residual
collective, the hive mind also matters to the structure of what is
needed to hold tight in the palm under analytic eyes… deistic demon
directives boosting the next step of the way of this trip, the
somewhere/ anywhere that takes the place of intelligent design, and the
man made dreams of grinding perfect order calls it quits… we are an act
of god, but what is it that we are calling god?… are we always thinking
of classical reference when we speak of that mystical mass beyond the
skylight?… by classical of course i mean to imply the historic tales of
the Olympians, the Egyptian and every pantheon known to the
anthropomorph-romantic manner of humanity, taking the hearth wisdom of
ages beyond our recollection through oral and literal traditions…
harnessing our cultures into place for a rebirth into unified sanctum
with each other as a whole, or is this yet another lie hiding within
their arsenal?… to transmit these sacred implications gives me no right
to take hostile stances towards everyone else Here, but what else have i
to do when at times i have a difficult time liking myself, i want to
feel humbled to your glances even as i feel no one reads this drivel…
the harsh phrases have made their way into the vernacular of special
significance because we layer it with so many other action/ reaction
sagas… the continuous exploration of the extremes by all these different
aspects of the true self, where a jesus figure might have been one more
person relegated to the role of sacrificial catalyst in the greatness
of expendable elements left alive in ignorant habitation just before
anything like being “chosen” under ill-fated auspices in a bottleneck
broken dream squeezing the ill-favored through with their cop bribes in
hand to do the trick where just anyone gives in, and allowing ourselves
to know too much in the questing for right and wrong amidst the
denatured absence of real values or respect for other younger waves of
creative energy… procreative grief over the insanity inherent in being
this way, that comes off as a panicked state of drifting understanding
the inspiration as much of it floats in the aftermath of atrocity, and
the campaign crusades trying to force our truths under a sterile
impotent careless mask of sincerity even when every appearance points
otherwise in reality of nature… the demeanor can begin at formulation a
disgraceful dimension to consider, or even to reconcile with good
conscience, the meaning within its horrible ulterior motive as both
sides in any struggle get screwed over by hypocrisy especially when this
idea modifies into the ‘hypocracy’… the human being is in constant
tuning of this existential instrument...
