Wednesday, 20 January 2010

pray until rolled up tight end to end oozing air behind prayer

Sometimes when we are bored, well run dry, jaw floored variety of bored. Like some post-dose methadone-nod on a klono-pin-wheel-spin, like 72rpms or 72 hours half-life....like revolutions back to back to back, or half your klono-life and forgotten. How morbid a commencement, like might as well place commencement at the very end of some ego-trip-sleepwalk-to-degree-of-destination. The kind of place you reach with your body, and realize somewhere back there your spine fell out....uh-oh. Time to drink wine, pass out, flop around. omega-threesome? On the rocks so obviously like a caterpillar motionless. Then backward with regret for the next ten years carried forward, and where was you again? Check gps tracker for self locus. Diligently. Accept all substitutes, imposters, and splenda. Anyone really, just don’t go long selfless. Bad for the health. ego panic attack can arise. Loosening of ties. Who says the corporate suit cant add addiction to crack? Find me the chore, boy, lets get the train back on track. Fetch me the hos and my freefly suspension ordered cadillac! These were your words. So trite and tru-ismic. here and now we conjure you, all suspended in splenda (no longer visible moment to moment)...again... You wasn’t.

Like card is bored, cardboard. No flavor, boo! Solid tangible statuesque ennui. And why? Too far removed from the sentient stuff pass for food. Hmm. Embodied & dropped like fashion with gala, spirit forgone, uninvited. Life will be as 5 senses rewrite it. Begotten children descend, thus planted according to trend. Direct confrontation with lightbox, yes, facing new vision with binary ocular precision. ‘Made’ was the decision. anything to ground ya, surfing flora, fauna, and temporary files of treble. Delete, defrag, oh shit, youre in trouble. Another balloon of expansive grandiosity... lets tribute the green dotcom bubble.

Now you, Back to humble. Complete the cycle. Put what you got in the paper bag. Never remove the factory tag... Such was maybe the trouble of the times slipping away like saliva. Trying to eat bacteria to survive, ya. Projections of long lost heartfelt high-5ing. Celebrating the nonsense, your thought that youre thriving. Living off lip service to wealth echelons making hay. They promise they will play you out, your tommorrow, today. Robbed of your nutrients you forgot what they are. You think exercise occurs between any edifice and your car.

Free time shows her busy-as-usualness the door. dis-com-fort is what she has in store. Leading a protest against ones-with-fortitude. Appealing to those who wanna check out after a while. Guess what you wont find them en masse at the protest; you would have to extract them in advanced searches with keywords to out them. They link up like sausages, always single file.

Too much space wil get you thinking existentially. You might be in trouble if she rises exponentionally. The diva of emptiness, space & what yer missing. Maybe in need of ssris or de- phishing. No geeks will survive when extracted from lightboxes. Sniffed out by the terriers of free space, like foxes. But the source of pain is nothing physical sometimes. nothing personal, nothing lyrical, thats right....no rhymes! The writer wrote out like an inkblot on paper. Played out in prose nation, depersonalized, overflowed. As superfluous as toad to a frog-loving fanatic. Walked by and unwanted like radio airwaves are to static.

Free time fucked shit up. Like ssi, ga, foodstamps, and fluff. The original PB&J getting snuffed. Marshmellow holds like hairspray, makes Jello look sorry, like Coleco once did Atari. In the slaughterhouse of capitalism, shit grinds on, no one says sorry. In cultures so related, Apartments get neglected. Relationships faded. We cannot synch our clocks. No more watches. No more clubs. No more dinners. No more drugs. Then what we do to survive...sit yer ass down and hit keys. Self-pity? Please! We need motion not cold freeze. Express that shit needs expressing. Releasing. Catharsis? Just a Tease?

Maybe. Reason to exist? Certainly. Always. No Question. No fear. Laugh. Shed tears. Shout it out to anyone near. This is the truth. Accept no substitute. Tastes best with itself. Truth with truth. A wholesome meal. More than a steal. Always relative, sometimes changing, hard to define, exacerbating cultures, dis of the ease, trace z back to a, trace back to bronchii the economic deflation...dubbed like she sound...the wheeze. Serves her right, culture! Always tryin to come off as ‘fine’. Fucked up, insane, numb, emotionless. Probably headed to the liquor store for more scratchers. If theres none under the mattress, well, its time.

So what you oversaw trash removal. Think that sanctions your approval? Distasteful class warfare. Outzoned the other side of the tracks, logically concluded separation. Disassociation after your sugar crash. Insensitively calculated in your ledger = a wash. These sentients opposite you on the tracks. Where the realest of the real suffer hard facts. No ledgers or growth hormone growing. Planting seeds in asphalt cracks. Streets you cannot walk, hardly even drive. Sense of reality somewhere back in ‘85. One would statistically be wondering how you’re even alive!
Check your pulse. Nothing there! Your world? an unlucky few who drink mountain dew day and night just to keep up with you. Moving so fast you forgot your ID. Blurring around the edges....nothing there! command post = ergonomic chair.

Still we sentients here & now pray for you. we who are real and feel. We feel your pain is true. as anyones pain. Honored by us, this feeling you refracted, in your lightspeed leftover in dust...in search of that paper wherein written in someone we trust. In the end not the means. An army of legal easers keep your nose clean. by your smile you tell us your pain you have not claimed. We see it in your eyes. We hear it in your lies. We have compassion for you, sympathy extended, your posturing so defensive. Back to your grandios plan of internal audit: those parts of yourself you disown and then sue. The board will applaud it! For sure. Well, wait, the board is you.

Your egos on a holiday shopping spree. And you call your world free. Locked in your self-worth, with room service & amenities. And Lots of media distraction (keep at bay unconscious reaction). You got your poor self immobile, in traction. We pray for you, our prayer is powerful. If you believed in prayer, you would buy it by the So we pray for you to get well or get conscious. Not another infraction for shooting your mouth! The imprint you leave... egregious. your plan to extend nafta further south. Like to yucatan peninsula. Somewhere most Americans cannot locate on a map. So the media will take a nap, stopped by gps blockers. Beta swallowed by alpha, exits forever. Ecosystem will fail. Overcrowded will the jails. corporate rule of one-star countries. Demand Zagat new rating. Comp the countries like comping motels. So offensive and intended, cause lord knows the shit sells. ‘Controversy creation’ now a tangible occupation. The placating drone you replaced? It can be located in some den of iniquity, down the street, getting wired. Lets pray another drone is not sired. This model got old, ought to be retired. Controversy prevention, single minded. hard-wired. When you finally come to ground? Note to self: you are fired.

To be continued....