Oct 2016
people should really stop ridiculing this medium of communication, and abusing it to serve out market square profanities against people while trying to sell kilograms of apples and shrimps... don't people realise this is a resurrection of the wild west? there are no laws here, there are no publicist authorities telling us: profit above niche interests... you really want a world where only something akin to the Da Vinci Code comes to your eyes' mesmerisation unglued from that sloppy version of sleep: in the s.e.m. when given the epileptics' digest by the television producers? this is play-dough! we have the ultimate authority - the software within software... all these software brands are also slaves to the hardware companies... please don't let them undermine the content within the content, because that recycles itself back toward the context within the context: i'm only using a computer, not a ****** kettle to make tea.
the argument bypassed all hierarchies of power,
and it was done in the realm of the shadow people,
long was the established
authority of man, in that democratic babble -
until someone resorted to anarchistic measures
and said: well - allpoetry.com is a ******'s pleasure
garden of Pavlov, wattpad.com doesn't allow
ctrl c / p,
and elsewhere a truest
democratic expectation was
written out, against all established
lumberjacks of print,
there, it was written,
lay the gambit - two cruise ships set off:
become rich or die trying,
or...
speak the truth against
a billion or two people and die not wanting
a silver-spoon up your ***...
but i still can't believe that *incubus
released their seminal morning view
album in 2001; ****! i was 15 then,
an album of my youth...
such that music ages
like wine... apart from classical / literati
music kindred of Bach -
the 20th century phenomenon
music as enjoyable as alcohol,
no stiff-necktie princes readied for
louse agitation sitting in an opera theatre
for too long: grit and grime:
the down-to-earth passe that was actually
an impasse in terms of: can't ignore this
outlet.
there's freedom where you can
find it,
sometimes facebook.com
allowed minor computer coding,
the stroked-out ambiguity of
the zoological enclosure of <u> ending with </u>
for something being underlined,
but it's still all software, the hierarchical priest
that's a chef, but not the hardware wired
slaughterhouse attendee or the butcher -
i still find it bewildering that journalists
treat the medium that's electronic as a form of
surrealism, unreal, psychiatric worthy investigation...
well: dope,
people die from interacting on this
quick-action translated into real life "t.v.",
journalists are basically writing us off
and whatever the internet provides goes against
their famous revolution of the printing press...
they can't stomach democracy of the internet,
they prefer to peer for the autocracies of
their belittling tabloid conglomerates of a Hussein;
they can't stomach freedom,
they can't stomach free enterprise: with or without
a care to have a family, pay the extortion that children
surmount to...
they are like priest, in the grey suited
attire of authority that's beyond
distinguishable...
opinions spewed like
regurgitated kebabs on an Essex dance floor after too
many shots of warm *****... without even a
chance for a dialectical horizon...
little fears, little people.
sure, i can be the village idiot: i did the opposite
of people outside of a eugenic background of
Shakespeare or Beckett households do,
simply outside keeping the motto, if not
merely the motivation to be blunt flints -
i.e. great-grandfather was a doctor, grandfather was
a doctor, father was a doctor, i am a doctor...
embarrassing, this "noble" form of ******...
doctors and lawyers are alike...
if you want to know where the neanderthals are
these days? i'll tell you, there, where i pointed
at with the inbreeding of inter-generational "improvements"
but keeping the family name attired in a certain
profession...
to be honest, for all that blah blah
of Darwinism (never stance it off against theology,
any -ism isn't a -logy, the former
attires itself with words but simply dictates images)
we're less bio-diverse than we think we are,
i call it the ****** plateau, nirvana unplugged
said it better, but i find the hard case of social mobility
being immovable in terms of
a Francis Shakespeare imitating his
great great great, great great grandfather
or a Michael Faraday
Jr. Jr. Jr. Jr., Jr. Jr.
securing a patent on a Dyson light-bulb...
****** happens all the ****** time,
it's just the socially acceptable ****** that
doesn't require rammstein to write a song
entitled Viennesse Blood
(6- -en- -ease:
6 denoting the Welsh ***** to you and ****** to boot,
and the universal *******)...
was i shocked when
i heard about this story? i could have been...
but then i've been reading
the mentality of the culprit that's kindred of the Marquis
de Sàde (alternatively Sadé... i.e. eh?)
and i figured: have you seen how local
and uninformed the people surrounding the case are,
they would have hardly known that
a plebiscite was taking place...
two carrots a beetroot and a cabbage broth
in their eyes translated the civilised world's shock...
but that's what's shocking about
our modern world: you can truly become a barbarian these
days by treating modern, socially progressive / civilised
antics or behavioural patterns with an
anti-social tinge of revision: basically stating the truth:
and truth is the newest form of brutality (oddly enough),
incubated by the phrase: brutal-honesty...
so evidently that's counter to: civilised-deceit.
the argument bypassed all hierarchies of power,
and it was done in the realm of the shadow people,
long was the established
authority of man, in that democratic babble -
until someone resorted to anarchistic measures
and said: well - allpoetry.com is a ******'s pleasure
garden of Pavlov, wattpad.com doesn't allow
ctrl c / p,
and elsewhere a truest
democratic expectation was
written out, against all established
lumberjacks of print,
there, it was written,
lay the gambit - two cruise ships set off:
become rich or die trying,
or...
speak the truth against
a billion or two people and die not wanting
a silver-spoon up your ***...
but i still can't believe that *incubus
released their seminal morning view
album in 2001; ****! i was 15 then,
an album of my youth...
such that music ages
like wine... apart from classical / literati
music kindred of Bach -
the 20th century phenomenon
music as enjoyable as alcohol,
no stiff-necktie princes readied for
louse agitation sitting in an opera theatre
for too long: grit and grime:
the down-to-earth passe that was actually
an impasse in terms of: can't ignore this
outlet.
there's freedom where you can
find it,
sometimes facebook.com
allowed minor computer coding,
the stroked-out ambiguity of
the zoological enclosure of <u> ending with </u>
for something being underlined,
but it's still all software, the hierarchical priest
that's a chef, but not the hardware wired
slaughterhouse attendee or the butcher -
i still find it bewildering that journalists
treat the medium that's electronic as a form of
surrealism, unreal, psychiatric worthy investigation...
well: dope,
people die from interacting on this
quick-action translated into real life "t.v.",
journalists are basically writing us off
and whatever the internet provides goes against
their famous revolution of the printing press...
they can't stomach democracy of the internet,
they prefer to peer for the autocracies of
their belittling tabloid conglomerates of a Hussein;
they can't stomach freedom,
they can't stomach free enterprise: with or without
a care to have a family, pay the extortion that children
surmount to...
they are like priest, in the grey suited
attire of authority that's beyond
distinguishable...
opinions spewed like
regurgitated kebabs on an Essex dance floor after too
many shots of warm *****... without even a
chance for a dialectical horizon...
little fears, little people.
sure, i can be the village idiot: i did the opposite
of people outside of a eugenic background of
Shakespeare or Beckett households do,
simply outside keeping the motto, if not
merely the motivation to be blunt flints -
i.e. great-grandfather was a doctor, grandfather was
a doctor, father was a doctor, i am a doctor...
embarrassing, this "noble" form of ******...
doctors and lawyers are alike...
if you want to know where the neanderthals are
these days? i'll tell you, there, where i pointed
at with the inbreeding of inter-generational "improvements"
but keeping the family name attired in a certain
profession...
to be honest, for all that blah blah
of Darwinism (never stance it off against theology,
any -ism isn't a -logy, the former
attires itself with words but simply dictates images)
we're less bio-diverse than we think we are,
i call it the ****** plateau, nirvana unplugged
said it better, but i find the hard case of social mobility
being immovable in terms of
a Francis Shakespeare imitating his
great great great, great great grandfather
or a Michael Faraday
Jr. Jr. Jr. Jr., Jr. Jr.
securing a patent on a Dyson light-bulb...
****** happens all the ****** time,
it's just the socially acceptable ****** that
doesn't require rammstein to write a song
entitled Viennesse Blood
(6- -en- -ease:
6 denoting the Welsh ***** to you and ****** to boot,
and the universal *******)...
was i shocked when
i heard about this story? i could have been...
but then i've been reading
the mentality of the culprit that's kindred of the Marquis
de Sàde (alternatively Sadé... i.e. eh?)
and i figured: have you seen how local
and uninformed the people surrounding the case are,
they would have hardly known that
a plebiscite was taking place...
two carrots a beetroot and a cabbage broth
in their eyes translated the civilised world's shock...
but that's what's shocking about
our modern world: you can truly become a barbarian these
days by treating modern, socially progressive / civilised
antics or behavioural patterns with an
anti-social tinge of revision: basically stating the truth:
and truth is the newest form of brutality (oddly enough),
incubated by the phrase: brutal-honesty...
so evidently that's counter to: civilised-deceit.
