Tag Archives: arts

Deolation Sermon vol. 4: Nexus Variants

Break

Sit in simplicity behind the freedom of choice as this is not where you could be, but are anyway to bide time inside the idea of the self determination you had hoped to see. Layering slowly a CV longer than psychological dependency on being more than a database key floating on magnetic tapes hundreds mile away in bunkers designed to survive longer than this race. Wouldn’t you want a little more?

If blasphemously asking the questions: “what else?” is your motto, maybe you’re willing to be happy with what is after all. To understand the fundamental alterations of the code we assumed was cracked, but experimentation was never granted ethical continuity. Bless your heart child, you’ve seen hell, and its not for you, come see where the confusion might lead you.
Smell mornings of regret, as sleep is lacked are supplemented without forcing tension as caffeine drips are simpler, with the roasted mud comfort of diuretic reminders of chemical dependencies. Don’t feel bad, coffee is the best, external dependencies are easily held onto hands of comforting high voltage charge or neurotransmitters explosions attempting to hold true through panicking from wasting civilized energies.
To commutes riding a pretentiousness of having what others seem to lack, from belief that self determination was the qualifying factor to lifetimes lived for the lives of others. Sitting behind desks, and gossiping for simplicity of happiness through grape vines office IM clients, with giant emoji lists, giving those permissions to user to end the lack of emotional banality in email exchange.
Ask silently if revisionist history is the worst thing as any dream of a better world, cause it is now the noose around another’s neck as the ones being lived is better than the next person’s so why mess with a formulation of tried and true financial attributes. Probably because alarms have been going off so long, that the background dullness of its urgency bleeds into those still willing to accept the pain all together without knowing what to expect. Yet who is anyone to judge the criterion by which everyone was given a leg up or a knuckle dusted punch to the gut, asking the truly pointless question of assigning worth to what might actually be something.
You’re humans goddammit, a thousand million pardons for taking the All Mighty’s name in vain, yet, where are you lost to normalcies indelibly silent rage. Where times commodity is valued in quantum conservatism holding onto silence for the worthless tendencies of the bureaucracies lived and feared, tell us how you fear the unknown.
How do you fear anything that isn’t made of dust and bone, as entropy opens and closes the infinite doors of a trillion star bits hemming existing through the patchwork sense of belonging grounded in impressing ones self. Hypocrisy is a powerful entity that leans into hopes of being free with the caveat of presumed esteem. Fall off your equestrian dreams, move the fuck away from them, look at them, will they survive the apocalypse? Pass your happiness test of having enough, feeling fulfilled by understanding that one is a symbol, like two, that multiplied zeros and quantifiable memories are only good enough to feed baseless shrewd multinational think tanks designed wholly by one or two hoping you’ll fixate the wavelengths of cones and rods upon their constructed stars of undeliverable expectation.
Feel the desolation, the constant obliteration of the fury of life inside the venter or cardiac space, assimilating black thoughts fed from tried methods of words built go poke holes in truths one should always know. Flail in the pity of not knowing that you’re okay, things might be bad but their freedom to be so is a wonderful thing, tis the :
Way of the world
The bliss of being
The furthest from untruths
Sense filled consummation
Entropy of random reality
Everything in its right place
Forgiveness in a glace to the Inconsistencies of blindness
Falling into time crossed tempos lost to past ages
Reverberations bouncing slowly to key into melodies of the soul

They know go well to believe anything will ever change, since change is an impossibility to fit the butt hurt captains of enterprise data siege. Same way entertainment knows better than itself to ensure trust amongst the groups of millions or billions take the plunge into one minds manipulated derricks drilling to the deep crust, extracting primal fluids to garner loyal vestiges hoping to fill us all up. Isometric viewing angles observing the rat race to the cyclical tunnels dug into by tell tale heart strings tugged in sensory freedom, afraid to admit any wrong.
This will do maybe one good thing, remind a fool where they might be, right now in front of a keyboard as Gods breathe fills me, expanding side by side with the version who’d want to be somebody happy in helping others achieve a simple dream of goals lived within this existence. But where to begin?
A Decision, to admit that forgiveness is where it will begin, as the Nexus of of old absorbs everything there once was in the high tide of given opportunity.
Take not the words of a madman, lost in the throws of misrepresented love in historical hope for a better tomorrow, grounded in understanding of the majesty of playing fair. Believe not words as they flow quickly upon paper and data bits, they mean not to guide but shepherd your thoughts away from believing everything is law. Swim in the bliss of uncharted waters, unafraid of the lessons not learned from mistakes currents swaying on all sides.
Start somewhere, somewhere terrible, is still somewhere, placing steps on stepping stones of metaphors covered in moss of interpretation, you will slip and fall, but it will not end, put on you’re shoes just keep walking, as mud covered and slimy it might all seem.
Heed no warnings told through the filter of tomorrow, yesterday is so far away, and today is nearly gone, Hoyle road looking for enlightenment.

Go. In Peace.

Desolation Sermon Vol. 3 Void Walkers Paradox

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Etched in tabulation conceived by infinite graces with a finite traces of reality scouring behind, center quakes with seismic inevitabilities. Venter finds life mildly separated from an illogical whole that codifies fiery fortitude, to return from the waters from whence they once came into light . The noise is truer than false promises of our own self determined youthful glow, verily tracking the infinity beyond those moments neither of us could see.

Holding together these limitless thoughts we might see how the quest for peace has lost its way. How war is peace and peace is pacafistic idealism, meant to engage disappointment at a very young age. Blame the video games and the television streams, but the inevitable end is here to stay.

Why then to contain these lashing tendrils of fury and rage, we must ground ourselves in pointless attempts at being just angry enough for those we want to lure to take notice but quiet enough not to make any noise. Are we not men, not machines programmed by simplistic ideals told to us by those we believe will stand representative of the best of our fucked up reality?

Do we not stand for individuals, regardless of the constant mistakes? Propelled through existencs on a singular idea, just to do some good, yet told consistently, “the trouble isn’t with the reward ” the trouble IS the reward, to have lived to see what life has in store to never know what could come next. to live in the paradox of the Almighty’s graces consistently prevading forward through the sin that is existences inevitable query. We are life, we are the spaces in between the letters of history more important than curvatures and ampersand’s, the form that holds all together, the mystery of everyday conversation.

Willingly taken by fates consistent seminars and keynote speeches, the conference is meant to teach, make believe that what we learn might haunt us more than beseech us to a call to everything. To explode into a million different accounts of what it might feel like, this new found reality, of uncharted fear and anxiety, coupled with unspeakable happiness and mystery. Do we chose to live in this place, where rust and bone only prevade when why we felt in the first place is forgotten?

Yet, the fear will always return the dark, the void. Even as flowers bloom from evening to morning as the landscapes kick the air from our lungs, the memories of the monsters obliterating all, concussing the sanitariums of deference into planetary dislocations of orbital desires. Faceless traits give away whimsical mindsets, leaving behind nuggets of prayed for good graces, as we live in sin, asking for unearned forgiveness. Ravaging ourselves with guilt lost not on time, wriggling its way under our fingers, as we do under cover of privacy. Holding in desires, making sure the armor is still holding out against the life we had chosen to architect.

Yet the paradox holds true, where life and sin are the same with intentions wrapped in ignorance, to justify doing harm. Self determined social hierarchical traits, never assigned rationally, since objectivity is taught with a set of rules in mind.Walking out humble paths, in and out of youthful mindsets, juxtaposed with furious destructive wrath. Going nuclear on past hurts, that can’t be amended, a vendetta against those that would make today less loving for those whom we’d collapse empires for.

Walking in and out of the void, contradictions abound, homeostatic paradoxes ever changing. Adjusting to realities infinitive’s, we talk a moment to know that we are under grace, under the watchful eye of these sermons we have to tell ourselves.

This paradise walked alone, echoing thoughts of of heavenly intentions formed not yet recognized by sanity, thinking about thinking about an idea, not thought since a billion moments ago. Where past malicious intents we’re told they could stay, cause maybe they’d give us a reason to have a reason.

Yet the other side of the coin flips into existence, never bound by restrictive common place of the localities we chose to grace. Individual thought forms might dislocate immediate goals to deference not previously assessed, the infinite begins to manifest. And maybe we’ll flip into thoughts never held truer, but engage fears never thought needed to be dealt. We are bigger than universes collapsing a billion million stars, and that’s in our eyes.

What might seem like the mystery we never wanted to solve, becomes the mystery we hold and never Want to let go. As we walk the plank over the void, falling into nothing we can rationally contain let float the wonders of the paradox. Living inside the difference inside the unknown, like pioneers seeking no more than the place we never knew could be known.

Left, Faisal

Its just Guy love (and Love in General)

They done did it.

They done did it.

I’m sitting here, I should be shivering my face off. Its finally gotten cold in mid-November. Finally, as if I was looking forward to air biting me as i walk down these monolithic streets ignoring every sensory explosion I relive, with every step I take.

But I’m not shivering, hell I’m not even feeling remotely tense, my hat my have been the wrong choice, a slouch, but because of the lack of static electricity generated to produce any sort of warmth, though, but it has always looked cool.

So, I’m sitting here un front of this incredibly modern piece of art, in front of the aptly placed MOMA across the street. What the hell am I doing here, aside from attempting to fulfill and unrequited death wish I’d hoped dispersed years prior.

Well as it so happens, there is work to be done, and words written for people i find so easy to neglect and so hard to ever not love. In particular one persons, or better yet a single whole.

I cannot claim to understand humans, as well as people far more qualified than myself. I mean thats just what they do, though i do take a morally insensitive stance towards looking at them. I mean there’s very little I can truly grasp that the next person that passes me by won’t immediately refute because such is the wonderful randomness of the people I meet.

So, it goes without saying, that I make a lot of grandiose statements about infinity and the fantastic insignificance towards the fact that I bring nothing to the table of this existence.

I feel some days I’m not meant to even belong for my existence is so small ,so infinitesimally bleek in the pantheon of rational thought that, that maybe I would be better served thinking about the inconceivably insignificant, as to appreciate the things that I can’t seem to affect.

Then I think about the insignificant things I never thought I’d be able to appreciate, until it was too late to accept the incredible awe and wonderment that it was while it was there.

Now i may sound like I’m waxing poetic about my own self loathing indignations that i’ve managed to assault myself with. But no this is the truth about the person, who i know to be better, kinder, smarter, and more tolerant of the world, and grounded in a sort of zen in what needs to be done sometimes.

My best friend, now i’ve been using that phrase a lot lately. My right hand as it was for the longest time. I’m not exactly sure what we’ve had to accept and become over the last year alone, i mean we were supposed to have finished a couple albums, and a concept EP by now. But here we are.

Barely, really nothing under our belt except maybe a couple of sampled times while utilizing the street outside my house or the park across the street from yours. The tracks were never really reason we got together, just really an excuse to work together on a thing neither of us had really delved into.

Thats just what we’ve always done though isn’t it. Just jump right in, bright eyed and bushy tailed to fields neither of us could have ever comprehended.
But always having each others proverbial backs. Didn’t matter if it was the occasional existential crisis about how we could possibly be part of the machine we’d always talked about we’d never be a part of but alas here we are working away.

When our hearts were shattered, for one thing or the other, falling inconceivably for the right person at the wrong time, time after time (mostly me really), thank you man. I know i can be an overly emotional ball of what the fuck, and how the fuck did we manage to get here, but you’ve always held yourself firm even in the face of maddening situations and scenarios.

I mean seriously how the hell did we manage to get almost robbed or robbed in the strangest moments.

Or how our own inconceivable naiveté always managed to do things with some sort of disdain, yet you could always hold the wonder and amazement more than I ever could. Cause you saw just a bit more than I did, as I sit behind these crimson glasses i can’t help but cut up everything in my head. You keep me sane man, so again thank you for that.

I love you Brother, because through every insane turn life taken mean more importantly us, we were.

Now, though you say it won’t, you must keep all those things you hold together and give it about 150% more to another person, even though i don’t approve of this overly wishy washy Xanthan gum level of overly excessive and partially self loathing level of emotional acquiescence.

She loves you more than anything and I totally understand why. So I need for you to do me a favor man. I need something from you selfishly, and without protest. Its a request I often relegate to making myself work at but I won’t trust anyone but my most trusted with it.

I request, as all men who seek nothing more than the joys of those around them would hopefully ask. A request I can’t must up the heart to say, and so keep putting expository words in front of one another in an attempt to delay the words being scribbled across this notebook as i sit here on this train.
A request that could change a person, in the time it took for a street light to change. A request so specific and unlike me, with all my fucked up subtlety and warpedness i can’t seem to fuck up saying.

By the powers vested in my by nothing and no one, through the 25th circuit court of wherever, I need to be by the sounds that carry in this universe perpetually, infinitesimally and the beauty that i can’t even begin to describe in words, as they would not do it justice, by my God’s will and so on and the such.

I request that you Love.

Love as if time stopped and eternity was a tiny midi keyboard you plugged into all the sounds of life in all the moments that ever were in that moment that this moment that time had frozen.

Love like gravity on earth wasn’t a fixed constant of acceleration, that you could feel it anchor you as if falling into the sun. A million Billion kinds of chemical reactions wouldn’t understand how not to perfectly acquiesce as you love her til the end of everything. Because the relativity of time should not stop you either, I hope you even love at the tip of a singularity so the love you have can never fade, for it will never end as gravity well will let you drink in each other for eternity and beyond.

Never let the little things get in the way either, but use them as the things to remind you to always love. Don’t not love life, cause sometimes it really hard, I know, but with you the you two there’s enough strength, power, (and most important of all) because of that love and care feel ever so rare these days.

Love the adventures, the unwanted,sometimes unpleasant. And never let having to NOT love some parts, change your love. Never let things that love cannot spread with dilution, it is there an it should always be.

To my best friend, through the thick and the thin (Literally), thank you for being there, and with all the love I can give, congratulations mother fucker!

And don’t think I forgot about you, Miss.
She who turned my best friends into one of the best people, thank you for everything you’ve done.

I already loved you as much as I love Ed, but if I missed any of that love through my own misadventures and sometimes overly confusing life, I give that you as well.

You two are the best, and if you know anything about me, its that I keep my standards obscenely high: my standards don’t come close to who you two really are. Congratulations kids.

So much of it.

So much of it.

The Earthquakes of Trampolines.

The Bissy Backson’s are getting to me. They seem to know that the way is not their way and so they don’t want to let anyone, who also knows the way, go about said way. It really is a silly means of doing things, since no one can go anywhere, no one can find anything. 

Like looking at the world through a backwards telescope, wondering how one day you can get to what you see on the other side. Though its right there, its like the elephant that grew up in captivity, the chain definitely won’t hold it, but it doesn’t know any better. Locked behind this door that we keep trying pull open with all our might, ignoring the “push” hidden behind the mental blind spot. Its the relativity of it all as Einstein said, we can’t judge a fish by its ability to climb trees, nor can we expect a wolf to serve High tea. 

We’re strapped into these parachutes, expected to jump and know where to pull. Where we land, we can’t tell, the earths curves are too expansive to see. We’re like snowflakes falling on a winters day, controlled by outside forces, each individual moving free in the storm of their own existence, reduced to water and floating away ones the dust has settled and chosen it’s own way. 

Mixed metaphors and bags full of books I won’t get a chance to read, cause time doesn’t know that Kings Cross isn’t as cool as Harry Potter made it seem. Never trying to hide the fact that we can’t dance in the moonlight, because its just the sun we can’t see, instead we dance in the candle light with the fixed gear bikes overhead. 

I saw light once all hazy and heavy, I didn’t believe it existed, it was just sitting there as if the photon’s had decided they didn’t have to move, they were on holiday and they just wanted their Mojito’s and a way to express all their heat. I chilled with them a while, they were cooler than I thought they’d be, they had great ideas, about oscillations and dreams, dreams about being small but always being bigger than anyone who said they weren’t. I like them, too bad the laws of the physical worlds woke up and told them to get back to working. 

Sometimes the sky’s cry, because they can see the world and how dreadful it can be, with their heavy hearts and ions buzzing they can’t help but lighting the sky, and scream with their thunderous roar, it doesn’t know that its doing it, its just is, and crying and throwing its tantrum, it too can’t see beyond the horizon, beyond the backwards telescopes gaze. 

The relativity of our lives are contingent on our ability to see without seeing what we want, to feel without needing to feel, to hear because we care to listening. When we forget, we start to question why its all there. We lose ourselves in the idea that we might be different than everything around us, further then the sun or the moon, and as meaningless as the speck of dust on my nose. But in really, we’re just panicking from the tremors of waking up, on the trampoline that shakes incessantly, we can only see the shaking, feel the shaking and hear the tremors uproar. If’ only we remembered, that we could get off, stare not at the latex stretched across but at the grass it sat upon, the earth below our feet the silence of the wind around us with the stability of the ground between the infinite spaces between our knees. 

So smile, Backsons, I know your game, there’s no reason to block the way, unless you wanna jump on this trampoline, just remember where you’re going to land, the earthquake might just be you.