the dangers of becoming part of the robotic massive that utilizes the
human form so casually, mimicry of the half-asleep sub-dermal
programming in millions of random numbers, but this does not make your
future any better… instead it makes your empty worthlessness exist by
leaps and bounds against the grain of real time urge for necessity, and
you decide firmly that there has to be a reason worth the time and the
effort spent to maintain a particular lifestyle, however false this
might really be in all actuality… trite self-delusion of
ultra-human-type literal mind, to take heed to take warning, and come
out of the whole ordeal as though the sparkling clean maestro of the
eso-meta-physical… nothing cures the whirl of social anxiety like the
dual effects of herb and lager… this too slows function rationale down a
little for the jester to become the more efficient in being annoying
and obnoxious in the extreme, as the conscious mind relaxes in its
logical pursuits, and the passionate soul would rather overtake the
emotions of the carnal beast… the sluggish inner dimension blown wide
open for the furnace chamber it is, the heart centered at the top of the
ribs, and the pulse a dead beat rising in rhyme to the reason twisting
the corpse alive… the labyrinthine threads through which the needle eye
accepts only a few, the straws that break the camel’s back, and your
mother becomes suddenly struck awake and alive as well… up through that
rotted birth canal which we all jettison through, the womb has no other
choice than to obey the fist, this the where the creative purge comes in
handy, so-to-speak… the Slow Children are not necessarily retarded
children, but merely socially unacceptable mental cases to some degree,
this is the haunting realism to the situation currently prescribed the
vacant mind through a spastic reflex media… condemning the softness with
a militant edge, the soldiers who know nothing and want for nothing
other than the next fight, and the excerpt for straight uni-dimensional
reality that has underlined “conform or die!!!” is too perfect a mantra
to be real in the grand spectrum of all wavelengths together… at once
reborn and born for the very first time Here on the mortal plane, at
first the mindless sensate vessel oblivious to the world at large, and
then in the the next phase of life as creatures learning to cope with
all the various cruelties inherent in this fleshly gore… these strange
commandments control and condemn the soul to harsh and unyielding
rebuke, devil’s advocate i play to wield the persona with the particular
graces of charisma and spectacular faith in the ways i work the
judicial system, but i am not going to accept just any certain reality
that makes too many things a simple rotting finale to the whole process…
the family togetherness is what i am looking for when i think of my pet
projects, many ends of the same concept holding the uniform appearance
intimately connected, but maybe my hopes are too far set into the
future…
