Shemhamphorasch.

the communications reach fever pitch as the discrepancies lurk all over the place, but most of all those dark captive beatings that take place between the ears… we scrape valid parts of ourselves away to try being less square, always in concern of looking foolish even when that fool carries with them the next new idea, and only to leave the peg to get hammered into the hole… we cringe when our name gets called, the worst things lying in wait to fuck us over in subtle degrees, but the mad mirth takes with it the fears and negative impulse that always carry us over the edge… it gets even murkier when staring into the face of a person you distrust, having their own capacity for oblivious mistake like everyone else Here, and it breeds a complex network of slack and compensation when you have billions and billions of people encapsulated in the glassy bubble of a water bead in a hydrophobic position standing out from the cosmic span… the multitudes are disgruntled in their own special ways, retarded by the dollar bill that has usurped the role of marker into becoming symbolic as total masses of energy spent and armed by the billions of faces that make up our side of reality now, and all facets of the struggle are brilliant to behold all at once as in the execution of the fully-cut diamond… which reveals all facets of the real to naked eyes at once in one splendid display that any real person cannot fully glimpse without turning that gemstone around, to physically perceive all sides as part of the one thing, but this is not the greatest obstacle wasting our energy so profusely… this is the wound of a different sort of dismay, a binary compound that makes the machine hasty with its ulterior motivation marinading in alchemical solutions, and the workers upkeep to this radically indifferent system is beginning to waver in surety, revolt is in the air everywhere and there are few who do not taste the end of this industrial phage on the back of their tongues… as the wage to meet the slave seems less by degrees that the people have tried to subvert, but the accent of these fiends surrounding the whole parade twists minds just as surely into their greed, flapping and buzzing with satisfaction under their demonic wings… to subvert them as a whole one must begin to subvert the symbols they grant us, sigils of all manner to be displayed against their wicked wiles like stronger crosses and various veves held to keep the wolves and vampires at bay, but within a powerful personal paradigm of belief provoked into being a salve to the withering intents of those sole eaters… ever-devouring hollow beings that come to this earth without a compassionate concern… sowing the seeds of gremlin-made fates to fuck up humanity’s late great machinery, the reptilian agenda is merely one frame inside hundreds of views all witnessing the return to form, but little is known beyond the face of this corrupted norm as the aliens land from the skies as our movies foretold long ago…

To fuckland be damned.

this is the new space for protein pacification, polar particles in the real time thermodynamic state of being our burdens to bear, and this is the evolutionary throwback with details like the extra long tale where it shouldn’t be… becoming roving packs of social Darwinism making wrongs instead of rights, as following Haeckel’s recapitulation theory at large in diminutive perspective as the hordes of the mainstream population, and our embryonic journey has yet to finish… as the tail might recede into the coccyx to form the modern human, the living idea moves through substance into yielding at the developed being, but the most sophisticated part in the brain develops last which leaves the question how many of us tend to be least likely to adapt appropriately?… our society founded on archaic hearth wisdom from aeons ago when Ouranos was first castrated by Cronus, rites masking as wisdom used against us by these social purists and selfish pursuits, and mocking the real people in place of a daydream that may never come true again… a remark on Lamarck before the soft inheritance of these traits comes true for you too, as you are now absorbing them through a brief scan with the help of acting as hosts to these various equivalents of cultural genetics, but your mind might as well act the unyielding membranous barrier to selectively choose the ideas most vital to adapting to a specific awareness… epsilon children in the twilight of our enlightenment period, and so now comes the need to learn and retain what experience we come away with, before the whole ‘sky-is-falling’ scenario comes horribly true for us all… come one, come all, come frequently… this is not a game show, but the real of the real where every dream must come true in order for immaterial laws to supersede the human needs, the atmosphere around us swirling like the artificial flakes in a snow globe… always wanting the ideal measure to take the place of our own impartial and impatient selfish super seeds implanted to make the most impact over all the basic generations of self, whether of our own tribe or not because our plant needs to grow further at any cost, but that price has always remained ambiguous until any factual effect has long come under display through the naked eye… the absorption through human osmosis of brain tissue, as shone through the prism of the intellect and analytical faculties, and projected from the absolute of humanity’s motion whether in the carved rocks or gilded towers of glass and steel… constantly in the sequence of pushing things past the metaphysical (astral and etheric realms) and physical layers as though the source were a heated plate, and we are the bubbles boiling below the surface of the water waiting to rise, the experience of our lives encapsulated within that bubble of time and space as we burst forth into the next state of being once the metaphor breaks loose of of its ideal constrictions…

Sunday before last.

it takes very little to secure a future in this world, but when one doesn’t sense the type of sacrifice it takes to bring a particular reality into quick appearance, all kinds of havoc and mayhem shine through the veneer of plastic false politeness through idle chatter… a delivery of free random verse about the various possessive ways wicked to the good character of the social beast that the human animal can be when there are few rules applied to these interactive situations requiring the being of human, civil and calm to better assess the activities derived from the ‘party down’ mentality, but few realize this is the primal tent pole sticking out of the ground… underneath the tent we are presenting a revival, or perhaps more aptly the devival of authoritative powers that be, their choice made long ago consistently upheld wrongly as a standard for no reasoning or great ideal other than controlling the populace by and large to make us a herd for consumption of whatever sort deemed worthy… the fall of vast corporate motion through the factories and commercial farming to be replaced by the digital realm as overseer, the central force purging the world of its heavy burden of blame and waste, but better organized before becoming greatly fucked up in any grandiose manner by our own unwieldy desires… the repetition of stories made up by the convincing strains of characterization projected forth like a mission, the strength of the individual tale wrapped inside its characters, and it is Here that i find myself on a solo plane in my reality bubble… the imaginary yields but singular fruit at times, and usually when no one is looking directly at the product created, the energy of the audience transferred to charge the magic needed for the person to be pulled in by the merits of the storytelling alone… but the reader is no mere hermit nor necessarily a powerful magician with the abilities to define layers of symbolic meaning, there is no lack of expression for those who commit themselves to the goal beyond the glory, we thank the gods and kiss the feet of whatever forces we wish to appease most in our lives… torturing ourselves through a mass production misery that thinks it is constantly expanding, distracted perhaps enthralled by our effects on other people, but we need to see the possibility for growth if there is ever any way to get beyond these skeletal structural remains… some would prefer to argue in other rhetorical directions as though we are merely the servants to our senses, and we remain subdued by our fetishes for control in this experimental place that has yet to really pan out any serious statements of intent, as the hive mind tries to subvert humanity through the attention given to public cultural icons as it is turned into celebrity fascination to force a pulsating conformity onto the populace…

the Queasy accent.

this ease with which we claim to know the ways of right and wrong, as though our ancestors have known them all along, but where was that compassion or resiliency towards other characters other than their own?… a connection gauged between the harbingers of past tyrannical action, and only the mere mention of puritanical behaviors in guise of lip service to being more understanding of moral instinct weighed by a challenged few, and with intelligent way of going about the business of making us all whole with each other as a species… where we are the guilty and floundering spirit of innovation as peak oil drains from the stocks and barrels keeping this crashing lifestyle afloat, we are still always rediscovering that information that unknown sources have intentionally tried to keep away from our prying minds, and the conspiracies are not just in the throes of theory anymore as we are living in the pre-apocalypse age of conspiracy fact that we have been manipulated from the start… however, there have always been other humans and/ or otherwise watching over the currency within our social seeming in total fascination from their vantage point, and the problem only seems to expand as the voracious optical delusion faithfully eating space materializes as the dread god money… the measured, accredited unit of energy the value of which keeps dropping as the echoes of heroes reveal their merely shadow steps imprinting the madness upon other desires and ideas of wealth, and too many of us still train to see this system as the catch-all to isolate and filter for the things we need to keep this huge hulking juggernaut coasting along… the reality is not truth, and the truth is equally not entirely real yet, as much as we complain that we require it to be otherwise for anyone to survive this nasty debacle we have ourselves locked into with irony… in the wringer entwined with the casual assuage of our own meat, the wanton physical pulls orgasmically spastic in their ways out of our limp and battered forms, but yet we still feel that alien link with only two alternates of conscious reflection… that dichotomy cutting our training in twain like an etheric lobotomy, as the engine we are born with endeavors to digest its share of the material that is Here, but at no matter the cost to the struggling host outside of itself sometimes… unconscious of the ability that the mind has of getting away with itself, all tangents of thought as they open up through this organic portal, but it is the choice of the human being what stimulus it might wish to embark upon over the course of an existence on the real plane always…

Shitty penetrations.

fodder to fill the mouth of the vengeful deity, the soldiers and righteous heroes under sway of realpolitik tyrants, stuck in the rancid randomized life… everyone has their own gimmick, whether balls to the skull, or subtle conniving strengths to overcompensate for terrible weakness… the universal basis for our system of degeneration is failure, this state is going from the bottom up truly, and there are many who wish it these sentient creatures never achieve a position above failure… we take a stab in the dark to find something more than this, and many more means to get hold of your own personal destiny than at first it would seem, we all get sidetracked by our variously designed training… the beasts are tempted by every other shit fire in the stormy weather of this pre-apocalypse… the distraction becomes too much to bare for the varying degrees of perspective in the out there… no one person can ever remedy every other ailment within this human body politic subverting essential reality… doctrines of all manner and sort passed down from authorities on high, but these proclamations are still man made, used to further tie and bind the populations that have allowed themselves be lead by impostors… from the presidents of false precious demeanor, puppets from the bankrupt well of souls, to the dictators with their military savvy to conquer with war on their wet brains… the blood drips in discriminate drops, that with thick sounds, thud upon deaf ears selectively hearing what they have been meant to hear… a dislocation from spine and forefinger as buttons are getting pushed down every day, to frown and dismay in the wake of their bombs displayed, and ringing with praise as thin membranous threshold flies away… the god awful drags the humanity phase through the mud of simple convention, a grouped demonstration of the mad limits of power for the mysterious interpretations of the intellectual side, but disguised by the blatant misdirection to create an atmosphere of panic and manipulation… the veil designed to eliminate confronting our worst sides of self, made to describe the many things with metaphor and analogy on the other side of this “god wall”, and Here we are still straining and staining the ground to hold us all together… the weight of our pressures on each other and one another crushing, squeezing the spirit from our bones as we gather the momentum necessary to break through this self-imposed ‘fuck-it-all’ attitude… this is where we happen to need to seek a difference in our natural way learned to interpret this land of escapes, the preconceived attention is there in the form insight and lesson, but is there ever really anyone there to reinforce those impressions?… i think our ideas are very limited about ourselves, but we rely on these ‘bass awkward’ ways to eat and digest what we perceive, as the individual grows and progresses from the merely animal to the heavily misunderstood actual human being…

Abusing the substance.

shuffling around only if you are so bored by the opened eyelid to see the cruelty inherent in this place, some of the beasts appear to take the human shape, but still others have to conform to other disguises… the aliens within us, and not the chest-bursting psycho freaks either, more or less that particular signal that filters through the organic matrix that houses our individuated soul… these are the cyphers to crack cosmic code, and even early humanity has had access to these forces and abilities, that psychic penetration into the flesh… for some this consciousness falls away almost immediately after birth, and this is what we forget in order to assume the next form of life, all things return to this state of living incarnation… even as sands of time shift and weave a spell over the world, in some way this linear model runs parallel to the dynamic energy that clings to all aspects of this rich plateau, neglect inevitably follows the conflict between what is said and that which is done to maintain this precarious reality…the eternal balance between earth and mind, matter and consciousness, and it is in the space between all these muscular works that the synapses fire… the sequence begins again to create new agents to view this world still further differently from what ancestors claimed would remain from the point of their age of incarnate existence, now they join with the spiritual mass on the other side of obvious perception, but their material parts divide into the rest of the living mass… ripples run into each other everywhere in this great sea where monsters manipulate the waves, it seems more and more like humans were just meant to distract themselves long enough, but to perceive what particular ends i ask?… claims riddle us with statements of serving and protecting the people, but money ends up being the great diplomat in the quest to recreate dreams and meet needs, a false god that the elite have come to worship in their shadow temples to the selfish ego of control… promised control over their own lives by giving into the greater control that external forces will push persons to submit to in order to gain anything in alignment with the hunger for more, and these selfish hungers for control represent the beast of human menace, these entities bedevil the souled human at every turn especially the ones that empty their organic portal into the depths with reluctance… tortured human robots that willingly allow their humanity to be sapped and perverted to satiate the needs of another force altogether, the united network of victims ins the new state of ‘Merica, but maybe this has really been the dominant truth all along…rules set by opinion, the rulership ideals of the wealthiest percent of the populace, and is there any wonder why we fear our police?… placated by massive amounts of “good” drugs to appeal to our commercial gods haunting us via the television lands projected into our minds, shamed into thinking we are nothing if we do not buy into the current regime which of course is part of the lie they feed us, and the guilty meat surges through our intestines forcing us to be hopeless tools in the societal discombobulation… the structure malformed by the purposes moved askew by the ones who do not hold the power, but this is the problem, we each affect the greater whole in a wide range of things we cannot see with our eyes… we haven’t done anything about our own plighted state because of the fear and panic in allowing ourselves to fall into ruin and disrepair, in looking for the next new thing we see instead of searching for answers to the lingering questions

Man, that's bogus.

people are such vapid inhuman things, the animals before conscious sense is merely a humanoid perhaps, and any claims otherwise are sorely tested by the rest of the experiment of being… the man i am is still that young boy that realized how unfair the world really is after the point where any learning or teaching would have changed the destination, people are shards of something brilliant at first, but yet still so fragile and horrible when given time to think for themselves… the standards stand there explaining things like a sphinx in heat, so willing to drool upon the meat as the human is stutters stricken with fear at getting the whole riddle wrong, but where are these overgrown selves to fight away the menace?… are we the new wave of Ebionites, Here to be extolling on the virtues in this spiritual cramp in the side of those ‘Jesus Fish’ lies, and dropping the wealth of an externalized material world to enjoy poverty with fresh eyes… a heart of good and positive things restrained by the contradictory nature of humanity, but the steady glare from the sunshine blind work whorse kind of humans forces one into an inner reflection of sorts… it is difficult to feel sane everything does damage to some extent or another, catching the awareness off-guard with a comment or an accidental miscalculation, but always moving somewhere under the surface of the skin like the disease in remission… the negative being underneath the surface hologram projections of what we call ‘human’, craving to understand what living really is through a mechanical puppet of flesh and bone, but not willing to make the sacrifice of self or ego to become one or the other… instead choosing to pursue control as trained by our intolerance and dislikes, and leading to further social pollution via disdain and indifference through the years, spawning all the deranged qualities inherent in knowing eventual peace in the sprawling emptiness left… even as the ritual summoned a smiting deity, the cosmos found itself needing a way to cleanse the corrupted demiurge from within the system, and Jesus seemed to be a perfectual fall guy… and as a christ-like emanation imbued him with understanding and wisdom, so too did the world need to change shape, and a contradictory essence both real and ethereal was categorically denied by the world at large… most people now reveal only the most positive bits of information about themselves, whether online or real and in person, and this crazily endeavored sequence promotes the random functions of chaos… the caustic sanity intense and remote as the human struggles with attainment of some probable equalization, distractions of all manners smacking one in the face without respect of forewarning, and this dream flows and foibles its way along the destination to something lifelike…

Succumb to my ghost.

tricky is the wish of the person who makes things happen, using and abusing others kind qualities to make their own plans work… the leaders do not lead a cause, they subjugate it to their will, and bring authority where there was only a natural balance previously… the disgraceful memes layered inside the head makes me feel particularly sick, but to speak as though i am chained to this environment around me is a cowardly thing to feel, because it is all in my hands to do with what i will to be… my words merely condense this struggle with imbalance as i experience every last detail… whether it appears written or sits on the surface of thought until it is done, and becomes ready to be spoken aloud by someone… getting locked into a sure and organic way of processing the information as it sweeps right through me… the sucking whole that responsibility has made me… a good person beyond the germ of judgment implanted in my chest, the metaphysical data just below the heart, and on fire with the friction of every day as the dynamo spins… propaganda urges pushing and tempting the people to terrorize themselves by their own hands, stalking a populace made for management and manual labor, and the hooves of the devilry ruling with cackling madness simulation of royalty… compulsion of derision for the under classed and downtrodden as they spray into the streets for a fix of the good life, but to each unique required step to reach the dream, there are many who would wish to see the other plummet to their death… there is never quite so complete an ending to any life, but how many of us held captive really live through this thing called ‘existence’?… i would wager only a few can be truly worthy, for whatever that might mean to you, and this is because of the influences that all seem to just randomly come together in the shallows of this wading pool… some shallow impulses and others are dragons curled up in the bellies of the populace waiting to strike out, these energies reach a meltdown level if relief is contained away from the conscious mind, and there can only be explosions if there is never a release for these energies go into reverse after awhile of being trapped by the monotone of treacherous comforts… the distorted analysis from a mind’s eye view of stagnant disease, this crawling anxiety that gets pawned off onto me through the mutual weapons of shame and guilt, but can concentrate at the neck-jerking pace of haste so common to the custom today… of man misleading humanity as a whole, the rise to the supposed top of the heap, but all there ever was is the feeling for wanting a place… whether in the dirt or the architecture of this structure we call ‘home’, we consistently seek out the wages of “sin” to give us comfort, and this all plays right into the money trap as well… have currency, will travel, but to seek fortune without financial interest is the uncommon… some fiends feed on/ gain more information from negative stimulation, and most of the opposite kind derive energy from the positive influx of situations, there are as many different ways as there are people to perceive and regain these basic needs… are we just one giant pinball surging through the machine altogether as one whether we have a vested interest in the direction or not, or does the energy used come kinetic from the interactions between the one, and that multitude so large as to be considered an emptiness?… a holy schematic of flesh overlaying the enduring adaptability of the human soul, ideally aware of both surroundings and mood at the same time as the individual opinion is defined by a conscious thoughtfulness, but carved also by forces beyond a personal capacity to arrange directly in the ebb and flow of tangible shift… as the nails go in, after the lid has been shut down tight, think of this and Here is my voice…

A desirous mutant.

the solution to mass extinction would be to prove that human beings can survive through the toxic and abusive parents, the authorities that might try to imply living a life but at what cost, and what of the general will made law?… something quaking in the parameters of worship that most people give in to, in one fashion or another, and to a variety of deities… from god money and the avatars of currency, or the contradictory and constricting modes of religion, even science pervades this alternate nexus region of the mind where fiction and literal interpretation combine to create an actuality… though all these sub-ages are merely layers further developed from the model of pure thought/ consciousness, as it crosses the gaps between dimensions, to seed the greater expanse of matter with micro particles of idea… this creates flux, and the energy implied by this kind of output is absorbed and reflected by the conscious window we all seem to be looking out through, one at a time each seeing from a vastly different scope of vision… many systems may apply to the further narrowed articulation of primordial energies, spirits of matter riding out the dynamic pulse of conscious thought, and it is perhaps that matter (earth) and the conscious (wind) comprise two basic elements on opposite ends of this spectrum, becoming a bridge or bandwidth between these to “worlds” of vague energy… through the heart of this ‘bandwidth’, pulsating between realms of mind and body, is the ‘wavelength’ of kinetic force reflecting and opposing the stasis of the material and conscious forms that is and can be interpreted a number of ways… each element has its own implied internal push or resonance that retains its place in the protean cycle of things, but the physical and the ephemeral each have their potency residing in extremes of constancy, slowly and deliberately with focused directions unwinding… while the essences of fire and water are like the eyes in the storms of either “major” element, or like the symbol of the yin/ yang cycle, with earth as the dark side of the circle and air as the bright white opposite… water resides within air as the center while the fire finds a place inside earth, the unstable and mercurial elements stabilized by the consistency of the other two elements, but it is inside this system that this tension creates motion from the cosmic pressure… varying the sight of sides on coins to be flipped between thumb and forefinger, visions of duality charging the changing of mind with will of fate, and guiding the grind to a halt with a smack of the hand… taking the pain from those fastidious minions of the meat parade, the ruler tries to break the knuckles to train the beast, and utilizes the violence to reinforce the mood of fear and panic… themes strung along on bare threads of detail… boiled to the surface by the heated debate between sources of authority, and movements made in err to be judged harshly in scapegoat willingness to become the wrong one, and swallowing those half-masticated lies force-fed our way by the brain dead despised with rhetoric lives… fighting to keep what little territories are necessarily controlled by the mad hordes of tribal families, drawing their lines in the sand, and waiting for the slur of change to occur rudely and without a shamed pace…

Pausing cautiously.

he culture that cradles one when they first wake up becomes the cannibal saint training you the survival games we play, as though the purpose really is so great, but it is epic on many scales and layers as we master the personal disasters that plague one throughout adulthood… pushed on by the inflicted ideal of the state, another dog thrashing about leashed onto the sleigh, and we are all Here to move the monument which has become our crazed cultural icons… to admit my submission to a whole wide world that knows nothing of me is to prepared for the return of that energy, the hologram selves await the gathered initiative to move, and a deep-seated urge to swipe a position between the ridiculous and the absurd to gather up the nerve… that quotient of eclectic electricity without violence, but signify the act covertly in the presence of others, unhindered by curses nor criticisms thrown my way… the baiting and naive atrocious at lying to deceive, an aid in covering the evidence of hideous faces beneath the veneer, and with opinions filtered in by poll to await the occurrence of some unforeseen script error… to catch the cryptic statements in a safety network as they fall from thin silk, the trees unreal growing to root in our fetal zeal as the stumps grow out into leaves, and blown out like the knees as the aged threads become frail and slender without a mender to fix the seams… so now one must walk with a skiff, or at least some kind of structural support in place of the whim, dimwits with small minds challenge the fixed wedge as it wears thinner still… to give up too quickly is “retard”, or i’m sorry, to be retired… making us no better than any other moron among us, which we are anyway you slice it even if you defend yourself otherwise, and nearly everyone seems utterly blocked by this polarity of spirit… to move too quickly in a direction you wish uses velocity of state to make one numb enough to understand the new information, but polarizes those who have no idea of the range of experience within their vapid opinions based upon other opinion yet still, it seems as though no two ends of the same scaled and visualized spectrum would be able to be connected… however, it is this bizarre attraction between the opposites that literally reacts by pulling their frequencies together, and can be utilized in favor of true will if there is an earnest desire to learn and to know things unknown… what secrets on the issues of compromise and working collectively can be gleaned from the interaction between Here and there?… the eternal dreams can cast themselves aside for the greater good, but can we as human beings ever concede that we affiliate ourselves with more than the betterment of our works, some motion inside the circuitry created by this charge between polar forces… a reaction slowly melting down into one state of reality bent on dominating us through the back door in the dark of night, even those zombie agents of other things walk down the streets in daylight now, but do we can we even really see as we need to see?…

Every ordinary dream is fascist.

we are the collective Here, raised with rancid the distaste of previous generations, and embittered by the recount of imperfect life experiences in mortal endeavor… a frustration of impediment suckling the courage toward risk, the movement towards something better perhaps, and it is this hanging noose that drags me along in distorted thinking with second guesses flinging… a mimic, a makeshift of what a human is, but is it a being that feels more or less than the animal?… a functional humanoid exploited by a system in effect, the whispered of massive machine that seems inevitably separated by time and space, but is as yet the fine kinetic machinations inside of a bright cosmic structure of unknown origin… in “control” of this bygone thoughtless thing that moves and jerks along at a steady rhythm, but the dreaming mind snares the distracted passive might have interest to spill, thoughts floating caught on tangential motes in the air we breathe… the notes before the seed, those eloquent ways of speaking falsely that only makes sense after the fact of what you see, and the dust and decay gets swept up in the bubble we say is “ours” spreading that conscious viral need… even as that consciousness expands beyond all around us, the primal elements seem to reach up through our bodies, and resembles the ancient prototypical parts of random syzygy breaking down through the ‘as-many-organisms-at-one-time’ theory… linking back to those proposed ancestor spirits even if we really only originate from one particular quality of universal chain, the brutal step back on the tips of missiles and bombs, and unrelenting in its fascist attempt at desolate versions of the future… the retrolink jerking-off in the sinking grave god gave him, at last trying to reveal a past some sense of the spectral anchor, but fighting back the mortal yearn for connection seems antithetical to the human condition… may the false fates first move out of the skeletal antechamber that is my head, to grasp another possible belief in reality fostered by the words and truths of other people in relatively similar situations, but always under the generally upheld auspice of the human being…

A sneeze in sanity.

people wasting their real time on this planet, an urge for some quantification some deified dollar that represents their productive time in material form, to make others suppressed by the weight of their guilt… culling the flock for a purpose beyond their means, that all seems so very old world to me, and the traditional cruelties make my skin crawl unconsciously… subdued by our own drive to move forward, but based upon what reason usually?… fear, whether fear of the known or unknown, but it appears this balancing act between fear and freedom is what creates that most universal of tensions… this is what makes people easy and difficult to train in the same breath, asleep in a conscious form picking up the cosmic radio flow of signals and symbols, but the transmitter doesn’t necessarily have to tell us what it is trying to do Here… we move like ants before the grandiose sway of ideal and far-reaching titans, the aliens looking down upon their machinery with a siphoning of the emotional energies with which we tag each other, but too many times we see the by-product of these interactions even as we do not seem to have a static or physical landmark to show us the way… the tenderness of feelings affect these logical “air” spirits or angels, and we are a collection of packages of genetic and spiritual information, with forms ascended from the earth chiseled into shape by the forces-that-be… we are human because of our animal and alien parts, pulled through this linear continuum as experienced by all participants, but with quizzical expressions upon our adroit faces as we reveal to ourselves the splendid ending… we are the spectrum born into being, each a vital position in dire need of motion, but this dynamism changes as we live through the minutia of each self at once… though there are further subtle details behind the scenes we approach to then devour, something that fuels or deprives these elements that endeavor to create, but these foundations are not meant for the naked senses… rather defined for the spiritual centers that drive one towards the destination, not merely the pull of physical space and time, but the inhuman qualities of fire and water as they spin the wheels around through the ups and downs of the life everlasting… the purposeless get weened out from the raven’s wing black of culture, a shadow stretching without bounds, but lies closer to the surface flying over the primordial pool searching out pieces of the dream to be realized again…

Pigs on the march.

they step right up, march push crawl, right up on their knees… well doesn’t it make you feel better?… jesus the warlord of space/ time Here, he siphons the soul energy of others, absorbing and suckling to reconstitute himself into incarnation… a mutant warlord to overtake our collective consciousness with old school brutal fury, relying on that primal sense of vague intent just to rule and conquer, and killing off those whom will not convert themselves to this new world order soon… the fish bears the sinister dreams, a myth predisposed of a good-natured disguise to break the bits to compartmentalize the truth into sequences of controlled mob mentality, and create a populace in fear and panic… to stuff it up inside of our pants to make us feel the electrodes used to fry our primal urge to dust, kill the rebellion, and come away richer and more developed than the rest… the elite of the consensus suck bringing the void in through the whole in the cosmic rectum, sucking the shit out to give to those who cannot commit themselves truthfully, and then the sludge finally gives way to becoming the compost to make life better… used and plagiarized as the excuse for a mechanical god to rule by systemic infection, the proletariat portion without a care to rule themselves, but giving over all goods and services to the noxious powers-that-be only to realize that the world in which they live is created by their own hands… everyone wishes to be an authority for themselves, but with certain forces limiting the extent to which the information flows to us, taking the fiery flame of hate too far indeed… trying to fake out the outsiders by making them think that they want to be like the rest of the cannibal culture eating its young, taking the learning human brains to replace them with some tainted mythological tissue-washing procedure, and robotic forms a-droneing along with the banshee’s cries in the night… i am glad the rebellion keeps surging ahead, and maybe i will be one of those to reveal the real behind the glamor, one of the astute consciousnesses that are required for the bulk to move… the better destination is there somewhere… maybe the ideal rapture is a religious state of berserker mode that possesses the zealots under the jesus lizard sway, a reptilian beast training the others how to kill in his name, and the ghouls in his command turning into drool-dropping blood drinkers with zombified creature features… taking the ritual too far for a martyred impurity that the deity claims is unfit for human development, or i should say that it is the will of the “masters” of religious exploitation, making their disciples and devotees take arms against one another with the goal of population control at the top of the listed plans… the hidden agenda allows for the shadows to grow and move beyond the massive dark force that spawns this horizontal bandwidth of evil, the deviltry emanating from the anti-bulk of the beast as it drift through human ages, and those on a vertical plane leaving trails of their dead behind to feed the furnace of human souls… recycle, reduce, reuse…

Thanks, khet.

Whore's tornado.

neither science nor superstition are going to lead us into the next chapter, even as people try again and again out of the desperation inherent in the struggle, but we really are not as weak as others might wish us to think for their own gain… pulled around by the strings connecting us to our respective anchors Here, the respected ancestors that won’t let go of the potential energy that allows us movement in this fiercely contested field of visions… we might know not what we do sometimes, but there is no excuse for a lack of respect when there seems so little time to reaffirm the need for unity, at the very least some kind of compromise… there are those, however, that will do their best to plan around the rebellion that waits in the wings… only so much projection into the unsure future can make things happen, everything else will have many other factors that cannot and will not allow a computation of influences so easily, and we are the caretakers of a humanity that can either adapt to or destroy the world as we know it… we allow the beasts within ourselves to force out this primal respect for a deceptive selfish intent to make situations better for ourselves, but there are nothing but curses for the other person as we plug away at the tasks set before us, thus making an opposed unconscious pressure build around our actions that stacks the odds in a negative or positive light… our destiny is to make the best of all possible outcomes work in our favor, and it is only in our hands once parents and teachers mold us into receptive beings ready to take on the rest of the world, we must chase our dreams no matter the conflicts that arise… it will be resolved as the echoes from other time lines absorb and retract from our own, our work from this life can be picked up even after we are dead and gone, but whether it will be interpreted further than we saw it is only a matter of mere happenstance Here…

you are The more fucked-up.

each leading to another person and yet still more as the force of positive change drives closer to an edge, where the selfish ego bastards swing their fists devoid of humane values or worth, and soon even tea parties will not save the supposed best at their game… the resolution between the creative and the ignorant will come with the elimination of conflict, maybe, but with the removal of any class struggle for sure… lacking any real thing to subdue the pain other than an advancement beyond this murky assemblage of parts we find ourselves within, an acceptance of our basest desires through acceptance of ourselves as we are is needed, and the way to utilize a dark frame of perspective for some good use as well… to quote heavily from the Wikipedia resource; “a person is always either master or slave, and there are no real humans where there are no masters and slaves… history comes to an end when the difference between master and slave ends, when the master ceases to be master because there are no more slaves, and the slave ceases to be a slave because there are no more masters… synthesis takes place between master and slave as the integral citizen of the universal and homogeneous state created by Napoleon”… why, Napoleon?… was he particularly special, or in fact at all the savior in French undergarments, perhaps the most revolutionary emperor since jelly and toast in a mad world gone horribly wrong?… where frogs can be eaten on a regular basis if that is your taste, good sir, but let bad taste guide you on your way if you reject the normal cry of life… we are built from the bondage up, and without a real sense of self to give purpose and effervescence, at least at first when there are too many things to manage all at once… the random thoughts training off as the quantitative reality brings forth the unknown from vast slates of grey, a continuum beyond the material face, and which has access through eyes into our ideas and perceived intensities…

Wicked, the world twisted.

the words are the weapons, skewing logic and reason by inventing tricks of their own to counterbalance those real righteous forces that make the world work, and we are but one part to blame needing to realize the greater responsibility we play in creating this thing we see… people treat each other like various types of meats, and don’t necessarily prefer listening to a self-perceived string of ornamental syllables which may allow nonsense to flourish, as we must be the beings of pure intellect required to change this place… or is it just shooting blanks in the dark?… a total reversal of the psychotic logic we have come to claim as our own, the political prestidigitation is merely a rabbit up the sleeve for the fellow tricksters out there, and a tip of the hat towards the propagandist’s confusions as their marketing and mass appeal have made us believe what they want us to believe… profiting from the backwater crowd that makes their living toiling under the thumbs of a joyless future altogether wrong, working the machines that the commercial interest feels is necessary to make the masses furiously move into place, and to checkmate the opponents out of the game completely… the dead rabbit is Here the magic man, skinned and nullified of brains, but this dark ghost will not die or fade so easily away… the skeletal form lurks from a creepy closet locked closed by the other minds, they don’t want to truthfully acknowledge the presence of these previous victims living revenge, and cannot see the consequences of treacherous acts they commit themselves to as causes that shepherd the whole… however, this ‘mastery’ can only come through the reliance upon the others becoming the requisite ‘slavery’, and it through this lop-sided lens that we receive our salaries and vacation days… strangers who choose to vacate their simple predisposed roles, refuse to barter for goods in exchange for their feats of labor, and the strange days that take away the pain from knowing the other side of this class struggle… where there is a death struggle in the realization of self-consciousness, this new relationship grows out of the truth of oneself as self-conscious because neither can die, or the realization never occurs honestly enough to be acknowledged properly… it becomes a false fate that we dance around carefully...

the bourgeois Fuck.

it seems as though we are all working for something courageous that goes beyond a real explanation, but how can we know that when it is so uncanny to believe?… a strong difference between what we know and what we think we know, between what is obvious and what is hidden from immediate view, and what we allow ourselves to understand as opposed to what others never tell us at all… the morgues and asylums are filled with those who can ‘see’, but that society is afraid of their being right in some easily unidentifiable way, opposite to the ulterior motive to manipulation that many rational minds seek… this is why they are put away, outside of sight and mind, to allow the manipulators more room to breathe their hot air… no wonder why most people are drawn in by the drug culture or other fetishistic substitutes for real time responsibility… when a dominant cultural beast tries to rape its citizens on the daily basis to upkeep its ideal of the slithering American dream intact, to make more profit and to take the authoritative stance of righteous slaughter, but there is no way to just stop this… we all have to move in unison, or else it may truly seem a lost cause to contribute to, with all the unacceptable forms of behavior surrounding us at all times… blotted out by the bourgeoisie who own us through and through, as our rebellion has led us to meet our near future so quickly Here, and trying to get out of the class struggle is the crux of our own personal evolution… to enlighten the emotional plane is probably the most dangerous exploration on the mass scale left to us, and the breakdown in social conditioning will eventually lead us to this facing down of truth, beyond all the given remedies that people utilize in exchange for the ideas that matter most… i am not a Marxist per se, but it seems that to make the surface of the pond so pretty for the “beautiful” ones to relax, there needs to be an infinite number of working people behind the scenes… they aren’t going to take too kindly to the system that gives no option but to waste the potential for the kinetic motion, perpetrating the worst offense against those that make the real things happen, but only the handful can get away with flaunting their true enmity for a system constantly buggering the heck out of every detail that could be another profitable commodity…

Show the real horror.

the vegetable mind witnesses nothing from the rolled-up newspaper other than that reinforcement of punishment whapped across the nose, doled out by a bipartisan systemic infection betraying the respect between the senses, and forcing the average person to take sides… the breakdown of good versus evil, i suppose, in one of those diminutive political analogies administered by maniacal zealots until the whole thing goes ‘poof’… dissected sinister leanings as cancer becomes the side effect of capitalism, all the waste and the tender bits flushed into the same cesspool, and the atrophied martyr swill that corrects us in our pacing back and forth… made to beat the awful natural world down, enlightenment shining through the twisted idols washed in a babe’s blood, and the monitor defines the living objective view to those watching indifferent to the struggling they are thankfully outside of… the fear in advertising is projected to simulate truth, to make the mind wonder where there are gaps in this seamless continuity otherwise… to say that no one still cares would be redundant, and although quite true, by no means the end of the argument… even the painted faces lie through their teeth, hissing between the plates of a dread-full mask, and with a voice of sinister longings pushing to fuck the others’ control… there is no opinion for poetry just as there is no worth in art, but for those that can ‘see’, their own imagination can mean far more than simple brushstrokes on canvas… the subconscious horizon line fades as the setting becomes grey with the chill night air, and the bright dreams explode and display such unbridled hate towards your loved ones, there is only regret at being the bastard… without all the expletives deleted are we left insane?…

Dreams that kill our machine.

the only thing that can be felt without the taint of the corporate terror-stocracy is the person’s own thoughts, which even the manipulators can figure a way around by subtly supplanting the things we see around us into a surreal sense of hopelessness… our environment becomes this alien landscape where cities seem central to commerce of conformity, where we all begin to be dissected in the demographic anthropomorphizing that other cultures suffer at the hands of the ‘takers’, and where all the people are trained into imbecility against any free wishes they might otherwise have… all because this machine needs to work so smoothly and sleekly so the shine never wears off… with its nuclear family engines humming away at work or whatever duty happens to be on the plate for that day, to be devoured with total satisfaction and good night’s sleep at the end, and then start your process all over again… with everybody moving at the same high rate of efficiency, it is very selective when other people run into each other and form attachments, and this is because the system makes certain that its citizens are to stay within the boundaries of its greater filtration control… somehow the general law forms a basic moral maze from which no one ever gets out alive, unless the law of exception occupies your time Here represented by the ‘B’ influences, and you can get away through their symbolic ingestion… allowing yourself a complete change of perspective, which might relate to a change in direction, or even where life takes you in your quest for a personal discovery out of living at all…

stealing funny Movements.

still trying with a suspect flex to find my stylistic direction, they say all the clues are clear enough to read, and symbols are always dirt cheap mulling over this gigantic leap of faithless haste… hoping for the best, but expecting that it will add up to a taste of fear anyway, seeing a nervous twitch while imagining a drugged state more so than that casual extraction of teeth… as the ones and zeroes string their own threads together beyond my control, but through a systemic momentum that i put into action months ago, too quiet as i experience a tormented surrender to the forces i see… a genuine attempt to deceive myself in the corrected version of reality for the last half of my life, a unique respect for the perspective bad guy forcing others to make his most vital decisions for him, and wallowing in embitterment instead of betterment of the darker martyr appearance everyone hates… am i a real villain Here, or do i further delude myself into to thinking that way?… in any case, it is left for me to decide my fate, and throw my energy into manifesting my own destiny on my terms… my heart lies to me to get its way, and the world around me spins counter-clockwise to my own relative orbit, thus leaving me consistent in being cast off balance easily… my rules are real, and this is me, i am the meat and more than that….i can see… the will is there, i know it, and finally the reigns are in my hands instead of following a fishy predestination… embracing that fringe comfort that was always on the periphery until now… even seeing the words makes sense to me as a mantra might ring truth into the head of the devotee, there is the struggle but i will be victorious through the darkness i see, and that demon ‘control’ is mine like a sword to strike at those painful oppositions that seek to betray me…