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

Words of Nothing

Eyes won’t open
too much light
not enough dark
consumed emptiness
hallow be thy rest

Flow into the night
let not life know
keep it guessing
seeing whats allowed
never control aloud

Can’t find you
you went missing
the moment beyond sight
let the time fall
the leaves changed

Find the shoe
will the boot fit
look together
we can find it
but I’ll leave

Loss is null
not worth a penny
take the dull
work out the edge
then cut string

Empty days
full of filling
live for pie crust
the apples are sour
sugar free living

Thoughts unfocused
glass doors fogging
close the shades
I want your light
you’re blinding

See these sounds
watch them bounce
under the clouds
we cant hold it up
the blues just might

Toy with the idea
play with its points
revel in its logic
ignore the fine print
let the soul talk

Plucking slowly
find soaked blood fast
frets watery red
fingers lingering
playing the dead song

Mind not right
thoughts bounce high
no drugs to sort
the miasma creeps
this meeting blows

Words solidly unfounded
reality complete
can’t believe whats happened
tea to forever steep
bitterness will not keep

Fuck it.

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Go Do, before the Pebbles get the Better of You.

Progressive Destruction.

Progressive Destruction.

I skated today for the first time in my entire life.
That wasn’t at all a false bold proclamation, nor was it conscious felating of my ego for having tried something new. No, I actually felt for the first time in a long time that I was skating for the first time ever.
Ignoring the fact that it was skateboarding that had consumed my life from age 15-18. I hoped on my board today, for the first time in about 4 years. But this time, not concerned with getting from one place to another, or meeting people to skate with to shoot the shit and just watch. Not concerned with making sure I practiced my technique and style in order to give off the impression that I semi-know what I’m doing and that I’m cool. I had experienced it while skating in the past, but I always overlooked it.
Today, I went outside with a feeling in my stomach and a restlessness in my legs, just pushed up and down the block, remembering how to hold my balance as the pebbles under the poly urethane, shook the wood like a fissure concussing itself further into another plate. Holding steady to the thought I had long forgotten, that falling is okay.

Remembering in a hilarious instant that the truth of the matter was, as out of shape as I was back then, when i was just a chubby Muslim kid who didn’t do the bad things and prayed 5 times a day to make sure that I everything wouldn’t go to shit again, because there was finally something good in my life, that I’m the same as I was back then, but just a little more prone to getting winded after spending a half hour trying to remember that ollie’s while moving are a lot harder than kick flips, but eating shit and having the deck fly into knee’s: still feels like getting somewhere.

Beyond that however it brought back a question that festered even back then: “How long can this last?” “How long before I have to grow up to whatever responsibility I’m supposed to take beyond what I already have?” Suffice it to say, I skated for the first time today, knowing, there needn’t be a limit. There needn’t be a time required for something to end because it is thought to be the thing that would end, for nothing really ends. Like a connection to a six layers of wood, six bolts, eight bearings, four wheels, a design manufactured to promote a brand of some kind and adhesive sandpaper that makes the whole thing follow a certain criteria of safety, it is unanswerable to the seeker of the question until they themselves decide that they are done, or when it comes to be that it needs to end to some degree.

I skated for the first time today, not alleviate the urge to skate but because this was the first time I’d pushed down the street, comfortable in my own skin. Comfortable in the idea that, sure, I’m still a big-ger dude, but I can rip better now that I know I’m in control of my body, that I can actually do something other then just push around and practice my technique and hope that hours, weeks, months of pushing around the park where we’d go every time we could, just to make sure that I was keeping afloat with everyone else. I was me again.
I skated for the first time today, and yesterday was international go skate day, and what did I do, go out and not skate. Why, because it was too late, and it’s just not something that I can keep up with anymore, but I still felt an absent bond to it, even through have been separated from it for so long.

June 21st… the first day of summer, here, in the city that made me the way I am where not many of the rules apply as long as you know the where the cops don’t give a fuck, its probably has some other connotations to others, but heavens knows those couldn’t be as important to me.
I had missed skating, just to skate, it was something i hadn’t realized I had done. Just the vibrations of beneath my feet and the ever present sweat drenching me like any high intensity circuit workout would. I could breathe, and these words just came.
Have a wonderful week to anyone reading this, I couldn’t honestly call this rambling, nor could I call it madness, I’d go so far as to say its love, for what I can’t explain, for what’s there and can’t be, never mastered, never conquered, just— Being.