Don't forget your receipt

Relying on aerodynamics to blow up and away the diplomacy
The light of the enlightenment technologically engaged
by those scratching their fascista fetish.
Used as spotlights honing in on the caged,
designed to either change the spots or stop the clock of the enraged.

mentally detached using the demonizing principles worked out on a napkin with a pencil
quick on their seats, clicking on the selection of post mission treats
the human factor kept from fracturing with the psycho-cellular help of a large selection of pills
the taste of blood in their blood just a nudge to do what the limp side of the brain has determined to be right.

Honor and hot dogging the highest calling.
Flexible though, the selection of fashion
Giving an indication of the call of the crawling
Into subterranean the tunnels
Of the dominant denominator.
Opportunism more than skin deep,
faces ashen, the how-to have high integrity contraptions crashing.

As goes the bullying in the schoolyards of the elites
So goes the the empires' estimates.
Check out the total cost on your receipt.

footprints of the past

The footprints of the past lead into the beauty parlours.
Makeovers for empires
Smashing into the present like firemen at a fire.
Little cheerleaders to-be lined up to hand them flowers.

Fools for duty charge into the unruly.
There is a sinister place where they can go
to dip into into the means that declassifies the ends, cruelly
marching since a long time ago.

Taking much of the instructions from that previously thought lost classic publication
that instructs: right or wrong charge a fee , don't let it be free.
The greater good seen as slobbering over survival--- don't wanna be a wimp
Use every means to get the labour units down on their knees.

Seekers of a higher plane shouldn't rule out going a little insane.
or being shafted by secret police.
And tagged for making claims
detested by the policy wallflowers without the sense to cease.

the DNA structures are not joking ,
they're waiting for a little stroking.

Sunday Morning Bumper Stickers

 
Sunday morning news, no exaltation forecast, no joy.
The Nato forces in Afganistan drawing a little more blood while patrolling ancient stones.
At least two side to every story, the bombers and the bombed upon whipping boys.
Plunder on blunder for at least the near future, more moans over more cell phones.

Delusion world on cable.
Intellectuality a felony if it leaves the barn door open and the Qs and As make it to open pasture
To discuss the motivations of the mighty, muscle mouths with trained ears ever ready to make the mistakers eat their fables,
those that don't abide by the deciders' jive and selected conjecture.

Heavens detached , minds thatched with irrationality scavenged from the banks of open sewers.
Fetuses earth bound wouldn't believe the alien analyses,
Similar to the ones run across by Alice when she chewed off more than is healthy for any chewer.
She made it back but after that she could always recognize the asses.

The preemptively educated keep an eye on the ideas with the bumper stickers to trump the slump dwellers.
Presumably to cool the chaos at the gates of the born-to-raise-hellers.

where dreams awaken

The deeps are where dreams awaken from their sleep.
And get rowdy with the rules of reality.
Daybreak not necesarrily everybody's panacea , especially in the middle of the week,
While putting in time as the drum beats dualities, and filing the brutalites
That started off as good deeds.
Every cog in the machine just trying to figure out the rules of order.
Somehow mixed in with the klu klux creed.
All caught on the consciouness recorder
And podcast (and disguised as godcasts) by snoops in the grass,
Chain ganged together with gizmos to maximize efficiency.
Visions of mountains of ash
Their common illogical expediency,
The mightmare option plopped into your palms,
Getting a feel for the damned and thinking seriously about the long and drawn out queasiness that comes with the qualms.

At the Foothills

No sugar successes messing up the flashes from your visage.
No muddy money substituting for the truth you wear like a suit.
Success is all process and sabotage
and then the bubble bursts, and then the digging down to the roots.

Giving off the glint of a cut jewell
One that's been held captive in Ali Baba's cave.
Freed from prison to prism, released from the spell of the knells.
But watch out for knives of the knaves.

The artwork of Italy and environs holding together your heart
Equipped with all the assesories and the necessities
The mirrors are confused, one sense idiot boxes that don't tell the stories that have gone off or never made it to the charts.
Beauty blooms out in the breeze of clarity with just a touch of ambiguity.

The drama is always moving and the river people tag along,
Getting wet in the rapids and drying out with a song.

Purifying the Paranoia

Getting down to the shut down at endocrine gland level.
Speeded up for those on the despicable list.
Shuffled thru to soldiers at the end of a shovel,
Soon to find out what's amiss, and if there really is eternal bliss.

Sickos getting their fix cyclically,
But no traffic control.
Have to rely on the same homing mechanism as migrating birds, even at the expense of sounding mythical.
When the punches come, protect your head and avoid the spot where Humpty fell off the wall.

Right and wrong articulated by ghouls
With eyes on the bimbo line.
In appreciation of distractions and amusements, they rattle their jewels,
Psychedelic butterfly nets catching the cagily crazy inclined.

ie. systems are in place to purify the paranoia.
For example, the one true faith ; but not much awe, not much Mardi Gras.

Draining the Brain

 

In the tunnel at the end of the light
the talk is turgid
they're geting ready for target practice, so hold on tight.
CNN news clips orchestrate neo-cortexes
Meeting resistence with a fart and sometimes a good fight
Better be on your best when you hit Texas.

One apocalyptic apple can spoil your tomorrows
Non-stop talkers hunting down ears
Little drummer boys by their side opted in and urging more watchtowers
In Afganistan the PM has gone to look strong and gutsy but coming off like John Wayne gone klutzy at Fort Apache amongst the pioneers.
Pale face

The professional chameleon engineers keeping an eye on the buttons
Anxious fingers punching out patterns
to keep the economy divided between the gutted and the gluttons
The skirmishes in Afganistan an airlifted western.

The only good Afgani is one kneeling down begging for bread and neo liberalism.
That takes hunger draining the brain or the faith of a snake viewed thru the fake news prism...

Hearts of Symmetry

Consumer visions framed as wisdom
or at least the pot at the end of the pursuit.
The only thing you can be sure of is someone's getting bombed.
The emergency teams checking for feet that still move inside the boots.

The planes, the artillery and the infantry can be heard loud and clear.
As can the heart beating and the lungs pumping air.
Things seem disjointed and weird.
Post traumatic stress taking over from prayers.

Dreams of peace, easily damaged soft tissue,
in the hands of hard bureaucracies.
Orders have been issued.
The sheep shift a few numbers and follow their odds
And agree to agree.

While roadside refugees with hearts of symmetry
Wander away from the bloodlust casulaties.

One More Pry

Fear at the gate, courage in the gap, a long wait.
The fearless, normally merciless , commission a study to uncover the negative nuances of torture.
To be published and distrubuted on pdf along with abstracts sorting out the whole issue about soul mates.
Trembling and mumbling in the stadiums and back yards, all caught in the 24/7 aperture.

The sultans of slavery weighing down history.
Using mind control germinating in the schools.
Writing the rules to suit the scripted commentary,
Those blocks of thought, alchemy almost , to turn persons without lobbyists into precision tools.

Divine comedy with a behavorist tinkered laugh track.
A new finger snapping technique soon to be released.
The innovators, with natural insidiousness , recreating miniature and mid-sized 911 attacks.
The patents up for a Nobel prize, the flushed on Wall Street pleased.

Satellites beaming like Venus at the top of the sky.
On Earth at a locked door, giving it one more pry.

God's Speed

The rivers settle their riddles into the ocean
The salmon return
Those that have survived the factory factor and the Everything's ok, if you pray , promotions.
Flashes of light, flying thru seas , feeding humans graituitously northern and southern

But no more walking on banks of cod.
From aplenty to a runny fantasy.
No more fishing off the rocks with a spinning reel and a cold prayer to chase away the fear of God.
The seas are peaked with greed dulling to death the ecstasy.

Disruptive rats ruling the rivers.
Part of the deal of birth on an earth in slave's chains,
Defying the nazifying of nature--- the next great zoo creature.
Left with a few slivers 
for eco-tourism and staging grounds for movie marines.

Upon entering housing developements built on sand, you come across  gardens of weeds.
A great view , from which you can catch flashes of fished out  promises spinning in their speed.

At the Brink

At the mercy of madmen in the middle of trade agreement negotiations.
Nothing but nasty if the agreements don't satisfy the on the ground greed .
These are the bogeymen for the shit kickers who want to bomb whole nations
Plant the seed , let it bleed.

Its a nightmare no matter how awake.
As if these leaders were under a spell
As if they were not men and women, but fakes
Who had reached their level of dysfunctionality.
Their true selves emerging from ghoulish sleeper cells.

Who had traded in their humanity
perhaps subconsciouslessly, perhaps obsessively.
Who are in the business of what we decree will be.
And let the ordnance drop where it may do the most damage, and say a little prayer vindictively.

Or else regress, they guess, into the apes who think.
And have to put up with a God blessing Guernica at the brink.

Boom

The synagogues , the cathedrals , the mosques, the temples,
Appease the thunder.
Fear filled and serious , putting on a pedestal what is vunerable.
Pray and obey on the path of the plunderers.

Paradise pleasures put off,
All explained in the competing scriptures
If you don't buy into it you risk having your vital statistics ticked off,
By consultants, on commission, assigned to get to the bottom of matters about which you most care.

Every horror movie must have a hall of judgement.
Every civilization must have its bludgeon,
To keep the traditions of terror a prerequisite for fulfillment.
Music coming from the jingling of the keys to the dungeons.

Thru the layers of doom,
Waiting in wizard rooms,
Can be heard the lowering of the boom.

Links

 

links can be clicked on
taking the mind skipping like a flat rock over a still lake
And then it sinks into the gospels of the beyond
Floating past like clouds of memory, moving like a snake.


The linkage to the lord of all things,
keep on clicking til it gets you in a spin
the velosity flying by the stings.
What comes out is what was put in

Isolated people moving from city steets to beach and back
heads spinning with ideas and fears
walk like ducks without the quack
communicating via anxiety attacks
dreaming of their right to be relaxed and regular.

And linked to the inner limits
Even just a little bit.

The PM of the UK

Raped by 18th century tinged types on the take,
Liberty withering ,to be replaced by fakes.

Boys and girls , men and women, mowed down and bombed out
the survivors stinging from the claws of the law after the original clout

given a number and dropped in the trappings
Mothers gone mad trying to keep up with the hapzardings

The front moving like the emotions of murderers
War good, from the sidelines , cheer the cheerleaderers

Deaf to the alarms
The roar for victory working its charm

trained to be intrepid
but naturally stupid

Maybe designed that way by the deity
trying to fit in some black comedy

take a look at the PM of the UK
Answering questions crazed, pulling on poison from deep dark dossiers

Educated to the extreme
The crop's sour cream

A monster trained in rhetoric
A prissy Slippery Dick

A whore out of 1984
His soul somewhere in a junk drawer

Snorting like a dragon the size of a raccoon
A self rigteous bombing buffoon

he's twisted like he hears whispers in his ears
from fiends with Phd's whose judgements don't veer

The best of their generation venerating devastation
To make the point that there's no sense resisting structural desolation.

talkin' delusion blues

 

The locked hearts in lock down for the duration of the delusion.
Welcome to paranoia nation.

The dark corners contributing to the discord.
The light lingering and lonely at the edge of the shadows.

Inside the mind, the same kind of crimes
Bide their time

Its either flight or enlightenment,
At least for the for the moment.

The connections in a experiential stage
Studying the dog eared page.

All for wonder
But afraid of the thunder.

The talkin' delusion blues
You can feel the subject matter fuse.

What Was Forgot

 

The heads of the homeland horror see no horizon
They hear an unhindering howl and are unprepared for the unhinging
That hastens its one hit thunder run, and then is gone.
A new act to take its place, bouncing out of the best of upbringings.

A change coming to the trick trinity used to explain the meaning of metempsychosis at the moment of the crash of synchronicity.
The mood swings across the said horizon , not wise but wily
Dabbling in divinity
Cutting and pasting smileys

Trying to to keep out the chill with the blanket of bliss within,
At the inner end of the breath, capable of dignity and integrity.
And taking it on the chin,
Even in captivity.

Cannot kill it no matter how hideous the thought rot
An inner wick of a candle on its stick, ready to lighten up what was forgot.

That's Entertainment

Bodies with the wind knocked out of them, deliberately, there on the news.
Not much detail about their last breaths but you get an idea
when you read between the hues.
Its edited , and then comes the panacea---

Practical jingoism for practically idiots -- emitting at about the same frequency as the latest security technology,
As reported by a media run by mean meaning mercenaries.
Getting off their jollies hyping this and that folly,
paid for by commercials selling how to have a nice life just like a bowl of cherries.


Consider: no one wants to experience pain, beyond a certain percentage point.
And so the power struggles for preferred places with pleasant surroundings and a place as big as where the buffalo used to roam
Suffering is diced up into the soup and served in bowls,
the recipients required to sit and watch videos on how to repent,
Sometimes at at gunpoint.
And honor the insights of ancient Rome.

That's entertainment
One of the tactics of containment.

Craving A Cephalalgic

War in the eye of the hungry, in the battlefields
And in the eyes of the commanders behind the lines
Evolution gone to hell and reckoning the yields
Of civilization, on vacation, too out of it to read the signs.

A mis-functioning sucker gene undermining with schemes to load every roll of the dice.
Flesh and blood grinding in symphonies of trained intellectuals
Proud of the defect that allows them to rename their vice.
The Sesame Steet cooperation model perhaps ineffectual.

Or used selectively in networks to keep resources legally owned by boneheads who play by the rules to keep things in the hands of the few
And getting fewer, proportionally , by the hour.
War just an unfortunate but necessary component in the equation when too many of the many get mean spirited and want their due
And thus the vinegar after taste of power.

Trapped in the jaws of logic rationalizing the demagogic,
Crawling towards the exit, raving , and craving a cephalalgic.

A barbeque on the deck

Trying to stay conscious as the days get dizzy
Pouring over the patterns
trying to make sense of the city
not thinking twice, about running rings around to whom it may concern

On the far side of Creation where there's a step down unit,
Where the air intake is monitored
Where moments are fragile , and not ready to commit.
Its a tactic that's acquired when its required,

When it comes due, hoping to roll it over.
Double or nothing for one more breath and a barbeque on the deck.
East of the End, its no doubt as interesting as Hades without a map to help you cross back over
The smart money on the fragility of the neck,
not enough balances and too many checks.

the inevitibility ineluctable
have to wait to see what's electable

calling all gods

The natural, world that shows up in the senses,
is powerful and patient.
And perplexed by the building of fences,
and all the best laid plans, dirty with investment.

The earth , the sky and organic secrets,
shrinking from the bleakness in eyes in heads on shoulders.
Life brazen between the brackets, on the attack ,
contemplating the scenario of being left, with nothing to do, but blowing on the leftover smolder.

Calling all gods,
looking pretty on your perch.
Deliver unto us what's self- actuated when the tides hit the facades,
do the research.

Do a little lap around the easy-come easy-go gap,
Take notes, and we'll discuss it while you're setting the traps.

Blink

The helicopters and tanks don't blink, can't take a hint, subtracting with extreme prejudice everything, including the kitchen sink.
Doing their dirty duty, the must bust of might, delivering dissidents unto dust,
Death and devastation unto the disenchanted who haven't as yet been grief counselled and so don't get the gist of their own jinx.
Mopping up, with god and technology we crush the pop up insurgents without a cause that qualifies, culled if they won't adjust.

The devil whistles for the wonks, the devil won't retrogress, the wonks don't second-guess.
The fixin' to die rag getting real time, chilling the good times all along the timeline , muscling in on the multitudes' shakey and skeletal morale
While the clever and connected cleave to the levers of illusion behind the killer collusion levelling the uninviting( and unprofitable) elements of the Enlightenment ; with their moral clarity experience expediting and fuzzily fixating on not fizzing out at the tail end of their no-toil oily obnoxiousness
Showdown time at the grim fatale.

Life looking a lot like a lottery, digging digits til you're dead, courted by the take it easy life clothed in easy come-on credit (and payment payback shackles factored in) to live the life of a celebrity look alike.

Grotesque and set winners,
gated up and sealed off in a slush of abundance hummin' like humvees hunting down bumblebees at a Sunday picnic, under occupied and overrated.
Haters sniping at news of bandaged nirvana, breaking down the doors of
we aint gonna faint, and we aint gonna take it no more, dissidents,
coming out of their morning daze and giving fat lip service to fiction lip tricks while dodging the stick-it-to-you stick.
Question: will it be a rationality rumble, or will it be taking out everything , that's not tight with the top of the totem, with precision strikes?
Collateral havoc in hell's harvest; check the cognition rate.

History and science in the seed of the moment, negotiating,
trying to get everything down and saved before the power gets turned off.
That's when you find out who's just faking and just what are the spin-offs.