Thinking in replicas
but anyway
I can’t get over all the mighty men stood on the clifftop
are they there for you?
Some plasticine hip-scene
stuck up on the wall like stockinged legs advertising perfume
I wonder who i know who isn’t a criminal
and whether i’d think less of them
We can no longer know
just how toxic all of it's become
Coffee / Alcohol / Tramadol / Weed
It’s nice to have the hurting stopped
strange balloons of the mind inflate
past and present replicate in
screwed relief
Some plasticine hip-scene
stuck up on the wall like stockinged legs advertising perfume
_____________________________________Fidelity Masters - MOONDOG_________________________________________
fidelitymastersmusic.bandcamp.com/album/the-way-out-sound-of-moondog
but anyway
I can’t get over all the mighty men stood on the clifftop
are they there for you?
Some plasticine hip-scene
stuck up on the wall like stockinged legs advertising perfume
I wonder who i know who isn’t a criminal
and whether i’d think less of them
We can no longer know
just how toxic all of it's become
Coffee / Alcohol / Tramadol / Weed
It’s nice to have the hurting stopped
strange balloons of the mind inflate
past and present replicate in
screwed relief
Some plasticine hip-scene
stuck up on the wall like stockinged legs advertising perfume
_____________________________________Fidelity Masters - MOONDOG_________________________________________
fidelitymastersmusic.bandcamp.com/album/the-way-out-sound-of-moondog
HZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZHZH
 | The corridor was short enough, only one curve around which he cautiously edged, his sight pocked by a |
thousand flies but still keen and honed to detect any threatening movement, inversion of tone or contrast that would forewarn of
a reality warp. The oil wept and the colours burst and curdled but they were steady, their ebbing subsiding the further he
went. The corridor opened out, the buzzing quietened and now a new vista of corneal deception to decipher and
traverse which curved downwards and outwards, pulling at the feet with treacle persuasion and erupting in a
molten debris behind each footfall. He took a pair of extending poles from his pack and steadied himself
against the illusion,locking his sight-line upon a static blur way off in the middle distance. The flies had
retreated from this scopic dementia, their incessant buzz replaced by a liquid droning full of gravel
and mud which mismatched the shallow actuality. He knew this was transitional, he’d seen it
before and remained intensely focused upon his chosen point, moving evenly towards it as
quickly as he could whilst the sunlight dulled. The sliding and curving of it all made it
impossible to judge distance or time as it rolled both towards and away
simultaneously, all he could do was stay true to his course and be
quick to react to the inevitable collapse of this faux reality. And
then it happened, as if the very air had become solid, an
immense physical weight that it seemed would crush
him where he stood, gripping death-tight to the
poles, hanging on, hanging on… and then it
was gone as quickly as it came, leaving
him drenched in a cold sweat, alone on
a dry and barren lake bed with his
eyes still locked solid upon what
had once been an island. The
day was fading, he would be
safe now, just as soon as he
could locate an anchor
point for his nest-egg.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
East Jackson is, essentially, one long street off the 335 highway after a stretch of green fields. There is no town center, just a cluster of dirt-paved driveways in front of derelict homes passed down from one family member to another. A stone bridge separates East Jackson from neighboring Waverly, a larger, mostly white town.
www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/jul/25/race-east-jackson-ohio-appalachia-white-black
a reality warp. The oil wept and the colours burst and curdled but they were steady, their ebbing subsiding the further he
went. The corridor opened out, the buzzing quietened and now a new vista of corneal deception to decipher and
traverse which curved downwards and outwards, pulling at the feet with treacle persuasion and erupting in a
molten debris behind each footfall. He took a pair of extending poles from his pack and steadied himself
against the illusion,locking his sight-line upon a static blur way off in the middle distance. The flies had
retreated from this scopic dementia, their incessant buzz replaced by a liquid droning full of gravel
and mud which mismatched the shallow actuality. He knew this was transitional, he’d seen it
before and remained intensely focused upon his chosen point, moving evenly towards it as
quickly as he could whilst the sunlight dulled. The sliding and curving of it all made it
impossible to judge distance or time as it rolled both towards and away
simultaneously, all he could do was stay true to his course and be
quick to react to the inevitable collapse of this faux reality. And
then it happened, as if the very air had become solid, an
immense physical weight that it seemed would crush
him where he stood, gripping death-tight to the
poles, hanging on, hanging on… and then it
was gone as quickly as it came, leaving
him drenched in a cold sweat, alone on
a dry and barren lake bed with his
eyes still locked solid upon what
had once been an island. The
day was fading, he would be
safe now, just as soon as he
could locate an anchor
point for his nest-egg.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
East Jackson is, essentially, one long street off the 335 highway after a stretch of green fields. There is no town center, just a cluster of dirt-paved driveways in front of derelict homes passed down from one family member to another. A stone bridge separates East Jackson from neighboring Waverly, a larger, mostly white town.
www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/jul/25/race-east-jackson-ohio-appalachia-white-black
 |  |  |
IN LOST MOMENTUM
We don’t get paid for any of this shit
it’s all just monkey madness
and quickly cut throats
Each day is a long coiling slide
my arms are bruised
the big air is silent
Further and further along
somehow it feels there are enclosures
full but totally faceless
How far can i go from here
before it reels me back in
the taste is metallic and bitter
One more time it’s a rip-off
the obvious sequence
always denied
I am beating myself down
breathing through my mouth
and running hard on weak legs
The simple line of flood water
the burning trees
insects drilling into flesh
If i could let myself out into darkness
get the fuck away from me and mine
that would be complete
Don’t walk with me
don’t call me back into the room
i’ve said all i can now
We don’t get paid for any of this shit
it’s all just monkey madness
and quickly cut throats
Each day is a long coiling slide
my arms are bruised
the big air is silent
Further and further along
somehow it feels there are enclosures
full but totally faceless
How far can i go from here
before it reels me back in
the taste is metallic and bitter
One more time it’s a rip-off
the obvious sequence
always denied
I am beating myself down
breathing through my mouth
and running hard on weak legs
The simple line of flood water
the burning trees
insects drilling into flesh
If i could let myself out into darkness
get the fuck away from me and mine
that would be complete
Don’t walk with me
don’t call me back into the room
i’ve said all i can now
 |  |  |
www.theguardian.com/books/2019/jul/12/gonzo-hunter-s-thompson-cabin-airbnb-fear-colorado
where this is going no one can say. something happens and time becomes irrelevant. an awkward and exploratory creativity.
this, then, is an engine generating its own fuel. i would find it almost impossible to lay a straight path. for now it is fine to be the passenger and not interfere with either speed or direction.
///////////////////////When you’re finished watching the entire video, please leave a comment in the Facebook feed! We love reading your comments and responding to your questions. We would love to hear from you: What does the Universe desire to create through you?
PA.APP P.A.(03) 21.56-19.10.19
this, then, is an engine generating its own fuel. i would find it almost impossible to lay a straight path. for now it is fine to be the passenger and not interfere with either speed or direction.
///////////////////////When you’re finished watching the entire video, please leave a comment in the Facebook feed! We love reading your comments and responding to your questions. We would love to hear from you: What does the Universe desire to create through you?
PA.APP P.A.(03) 21.56-19.10.19
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