Digital voice silenced. letters withheld.
Tuesday Night Post
Work is a way to live for death.
I misalign go home on my back I realign.
This vehicle of growth even in death does it find a way to dine on misfortune.
This is the irrational growth that I fine myself wanting to explore
This is where phenomenon we still don’t fully understand relate. From this comes seemly chaotic growth. Cancerous on one end, self healing on the other.
a genetic pattern, a fractal existence, a war unending.
A bread crumb deliciously place at the end of surrender. Allowing Wealth to unwind. Towers that tall they fall with vengeance, adding numbers to the body count. Punishing as it loses stature.
A glitch in your terms. numbers deconstruct as they reconstruct adding distant to the equation. They do not fully explain a multi-dimensional phenomenon.
A larger arch that I don’t see but sense its there. That is my hopes to find and explore. A bit vague this descriptions are. My hopes is to leave the space that is need for ideas to Growth.
Options are there, third party System.
Musings on DivineBrick
Any good start begins with a solid under-structure. What keeps the pieces together is the frequency the negative thoughts trigger the self replicating behaviors. As before,... the Ouroboros, the irrational numbers, the wheel of life, the cycle of abuse. Positive feed back methods to induce the basic structure, decomposed.
DivineBrick methodology (at this state in time) is to deconstruct the self, which represents the collective self, in doing so belief should be expelled. Attacking the collective self, ripping it wide open, exposing faults and control mechanisms.
Building brick by brick encasing the blue gem. This is not a wall nor a pyramid. It is a path way flat and endless. No hierarchy can represent life energy manifested.
Bricks are square but bricks are made of bare earth. Human hands forcing shape, earth obliges. Human children played with mud, shaping, wishing, playing. Playing and Ritual, that is what we do. Breakthroughs or Beautiful representations. This is what we do. Pretend. We role play the Maker, the Grower, we replicate what we do not understand, our external world. External forces wakes us, teaches us, shaping us. This transformation no matter the method is a privilege and some how a birth right we have.
This Belief methodology is an alternative choice that I choose to choose, a cozen gift to not take lightly. My re-search lead me to the simple building block.
This is the DivineBrick Methodology. Searching from the roots pulling on vines.
First drawing in a series entitled "uni0n":
I am not. A short half awaken thought.
To some the obvious selection for failure is the fool. Shrouded with fabric that only children can see, this idiot surmised quick with no mistake. A fault on a jagged cliff side gets lost in rhythm of the irregular.
A hat to signal approach, in the fools walk you can see, stumbles fluidly. Just a laugh is a iron steaming hot bent on spreading this embedded joke. Clinging to concepts desires left alone, abstracted, detached the fool seems malnourished of everyday foes. Just a joker to twist-a-side the truth, in the corner the fool ties the shoe.
In the moments you try to find clarity in the actions that border on obscurities, there the fool traces what can be seen. Picture pleased, there the fool hides in actions.
System Reformation. Belief Reformatting. Corporal Reformation.
can systems really be about destruction?
de-constructing what is not understood
breaking apart what needs to stay
exploring touching reaching for a core that does not substitute
voices recall the past reformed
tongues collided fire revolves
center to the draft of senses
of knowing and recalling
do they feel?
does human well being involve feeling?
feeling is core?
this narrative of sight belongs to us
me the vision seeker-the Light bouncer
deforming planes confusing eyes
deceiver of the Light
efficient divider grower of worth
on this dividing line that she sensed
cubs were lost blood lines severed
her four legs knew this rhythm well
its the constant motion that delivers this sense of vast space
space so vast there is only self
the outer reached it limit
the inner reached a depths profound
Deliverer of Light she will never forget your smell
She tasted you once, strike you down
severed member searcher of Light
She sees no road
She sees no inner end
She pounds on pavement, crumbled glass
soft sands of beaches along the coast
tracking lacking worth
At this moment I am frustrated. Dealing with caves of pastured hills I resist but I enter, knowing what will occur will be a sense of being outside in the darkness. Just as the walls are moist, so are the chilled blue blades of grass. This is where I end up tired and achy. On trips to wild reactions and decisions I take my naps in institutions. Naturally the seeds that germinate from this conclusion share the same commitment as my execution. Dialing the proper number to call the doctor, to fill the prescription that murders the patient, in this proof your fail is the solution. Redialing context of dissolution I stand proud on broken and swollen legs. Tree trucks left to spoil, finding necks long and hard, wheels in mud stuck, the child cherishes his freedom.
With growth and pain rounded fingers feel around as wealth regains.
With repetition I find nostalgia when nothing changes assuring I remember the following.
With repetition I lay my head at the feet I adore without no standards.
With repetition I assure the memory deforms in dome or shelter bending as needed for the assault.
Gems, found in beds left for dead.
Man has taken from a womb. Destroying as he creates.
Stealing as he rapes.
A newer thought of a feed back loop that spreads thin
evenly across a surface
Of a man given a gift which he sees it as that
the structured thought was the first to notice
Repetition makes the group
Consumption closes the loop
In this act in his behavior he climbs
only to end up face down
People seed in their weight
end for them left in a gram of ash
Art as religion.
Art as Prayer.
Laying on three rocks. My left foot on the noose. My right on the skull. My back on the wood.
My friend the only friend layed below. A beckon of red hanging from his throat. Loyal and true he laid on small thorns.
Just another ripe vision of true. A twisted repulsion to rearrange this off hue. Each turning shadow replaced by her at once.
Lil witch with power summon defaults. Make them special for others that are lost. Take them in kindly, choose them full.
Give them violence, put them down on moss. Slight adjustments of light are strong enough to confuse. Who follows who, paradox of the muse. Set it balance, sphere and cube.
Step into the darkness. Walk among elders, grab a limb. They swing you distances, as you loosen the leaves. Failing to see how distances bleed. Set it balance, puddle of gore and pile of ash.
On a high rise, looking down at her virtue and benevolence, remembers the frost. Memories of canopy high, bare feet on moss.
Forgetting the chaos, stepping ahead, circuits converging we are all lost. Set it balanced, flesh and mind.
That hazy air that finds you on an off day, that's where I laid. A faithful friend he will follow me as far as any liquid end. With his beacon of love he’ll help me up. No fear is pending. Vacuum of light where no one began.
Its finally happened. My computer has died. It was time for a new one. Due to many other artistic and life expenses I had put it off. For now Tuesdays Night Posts will be on break until I can get a steady access to a computer.
At airport picking up a friend. On this post I send a nod to the creative juggernauts that make to make. To the ones I know personally. To the ones I see bunkered down only knowing one thing. Seeing you make your work lights a fire beneath me. Making me realize I can do more
Change the face that we are greeted with
Propelling the idea that we do not see
Without a hint to know that we do well
Grabbing every thought that we make in others
Seeing how you work despite the fleeting hours of the day
You are the make of this state
a comment on the present educational system
We still try to evade
Find it simple to let it pass through you. Like a chill that you can't control but feels free and pleasurable. Wild is a thought a irreplaceable fear of morning light. What do I search for? An empty space to stay. That thought that reminds you what you once understood is actual something you never could.
In a bit of pain I am posting from the mobile from my bed.
The Hunter House show was a blast. I'm glad so many people came out and really enjoyed the performance. Sometimes when making art in a bubble one never knows what response one will get.
With every new pain understood
I acquire another to understand
Exploring the mechanics of this pain threshold provide the manual for repair
Sometimes the process requires a filing of priorities
One feeling of disrepair is set aside to degrade and dissolve
For another that has more chance of actual change
One must forget the signs of warning for much more caring signs of growth
This moment of self healing becomes a state of ritual of the self
Awareness comes at the heels of the belief that a string runs through me
If pulled I come apart
The same string is use to move me providing an anchor of self navigation
Posting on my mobile since my ancient artifact of a computer is crunching numbers trying to get vidz for this weekends performance.
Speaking of, come out. It will be two new performances. Happy to be collaborating with long time comrade Mike Meanstreetz. Should be real.
Thoughts on Belief
As it is presently there seems to be no grounds for truth.
Belief is a dirty word.
We are more willing to denounce a belief.
Criticize others before we set time to
explore anything ourselves.
This has made many lost and the search has begun.
Although this symptom is party to do to the fact that the veil has been lifted part ways.
Now we see the many ways we have been bamboozled by many institutions.
We resist but the smart opponent weaponizes everything... Even your resistance.
A belief that belief plays no role in rational arts in one of these bamboozles.
The thought that the old fashioned roles play no useful part and must be thrown away with out personal soul searching about these matters is another.
I am a skeptic but one many forget about.
If you resist a doctrine so much why must you follow your evolutionary beliefs to the better end of institutionalization?
This skeptic wants more answers.
Can we dismiss a third party?
Why can't I factor in my ancient astronaut ancestor?
I will soon build my facts on what ever we are allowed to see from Curiosity.
I get that facts are fact...
But really are they?
We take the programing like doctrine.
Have you ever seen a miracle?
Have you ever dug for dinosaurs?
Have you ever read ancient scriptures in their native tongue?
Belief is something I structure myself.
From the ruins of a broken telephone I filter my answers.
Bits and pieces are assembled as far as I can tell as they fit.
In the end I might believe that I have assembled a finely crafted ceramic bowl of fossilized shards.
It might just be a wealthy kings toilet bowl.
Few things hid