Amongst the cluttered mind are better halves blown into pieces, a scheme of things fast forwarding rear views tightly wrapped around itself and won't unwind it's maddening thesis. The wheels turn towards the night - heavy driven walls cascade in streams of thought; some passengers battle with mutiny and dreams into the light only to sink backwards barring teeth at the fools of whom it's caught. Some share aspects of the same wrecked train of thought that caterwauls while flailing in the same vain cadence - Candy Gun drops Shooting Rain; "Waiter where's my check my rubber necks not the same..." The hosts are lost adrift the churning waves of where they aren't, away they go reciting claims of myth and raunch - such an empty foolish sound; running with their mouths wide open, failing the sea - complaining that it drowns. Sometimes the daggers make it clear - tiny daggers for the ear - to 'hear' is pain, it's here they disappear and drain the sewage of sounds into the brain.... Why doth thou complain? I see no shackles nor chains - so why doth thou remain?
Point the finger - point the way - a ghost that lingers will haunt the day. Uneasy vessel your charts awry, the seas are thick with sick crews of narrow minds without the time to idle wit: "are those bananas? cool - lets split..."
Still the minor for the mast - from hollowed bliss a twisted wind blows and from the fog emerges patience. In the Sun light is a waste - soon the moon tows dusk ashore, what's left of pleasure cruises the bottom of a bottle. The ids are restless - ego's are bruised and the "super" says that the rent is due: at the bottom there's a hole that leads upward flowing into a magnificent fountain....
- I apologize for the afore written... fell off the path in the surrounding rivers of distraction:
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The comforts of our day to day happenings are always challenged when an uncontrolled aspect is discovered, added or encountered - that of course is life and inevitable; coincidentally it's the common thread that stitches us all together: the "Inevitable". No matter how affluently wealthy or poor, well educated or misled, the inevitable must filter through our perspective minds and fit somehow into the scope of all that we find acceptable - even that which we disagree should be accepted and more so than often finds it's place strewn across the ruins of failed relationships, short comings, and dreams often held at bay by armies of closeted skeletons.
As a traveller, be it of the mind or body - we will find ourselves walking in the dark and fumbling for the light switch in the place that we're accustomed to, out of habit and in a sense taking for granted that all must be placed on accordance to what we find to be the norm. The "norm" - an egocentricity that sometimes forks it differences into a tongue that escapes the mind and ravages the balance from a voice that doesn't know that it's lost... Ultimately glowing a fool lost in the court of life - pointing the finger all the way through that which stares back at you and "inevitably" pushing the button that sets the spiral in motion.
- so many old sayings (if not all) stand true and untested by choking time; never judge a book by it's cover. Lately this has been running a marathon through my mind - then it hit me: "hell, most live their lives creating a cover which to be judged by..." - so true I had to think if I thought that at all or simply allowed some old thought to float from the depths of a sea of words that I have funneled from books and airwaves into an open mouth casket of a brain.
The motion I was in was part of an escape from the squares and circles that my associates we're tired and afraid of - as for myself I was mistaken as complacent and knew enough to chalk one up to the fact that it could be true (though I would dare to differ). All roads lead away and to the middle of nowhere. The maps we choose will be encrypted differently for the specific traveller: we all approach every step the same yet think of it entirely different. I for one haven't distorted expectations of human beings. I know that fucked up is fucked up - no matter who does it or who it's done to. Life is forever a tempestuous ocean of change and if you're not careful we're you tread water you're apt to drown trying to compel the sea to fit into a dixie cups worth of perspective. People are biological machines calibrated for life centered around who they perceive themselves to be. Each machine fueled by a variety of stimuli that differs from one to the next - the paths each one takes will wear the machine differently as well; if no maintenance occurs then degradation occurs and this differs from machine to machine as well; the light intersects the dark and vice versa - conflict resonates along the thread of the inevitable; change is at the hands of the master mechanic whose ability is measured by the range of tools used to calibrate change in the other: but all master mechanics know that for every click to the right there's one being made to the left, for every light that's dimmed there's one that's brightened - the perfect world is a balance of opposites, the path to enlightenment varies and is forever lost for the sole purpose of being constantly found.
- to be heard you must speak the language; don't blame the native ear, train your foreign tongue. with that I give you: Blah blah fucking blah....
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