ART for Dummies, page 6

*this may not be the normal way of things, but I just found something in my computer that was to funny to let lay in limbo and I hope that someone apprechiates it*

breathing without breath
seeing without sight

A thing is only empty
When it contains everything

The only thing that is empty
Is that which is lacking of nothing
The profile strapped upon your face
Is no more than a finite ego consciousness
Built upon the foundation of something purer

Wash the sunrise from your back

Frightful hands
thick with shadows
Rubbing your eyes
will spread the infection
Is it the true human death
that we should fall to shadows
through the vision of others?
A dark plague transmitted through symbols
That were never really there to begin with

Hands can achieve what feet can not

Many times we hear or read of another individual philosophizing over what in means to be in a state of Being. Often it is drenched in the light

The phenomenon of being exists only within the three dimensions of height, width and length. This is because being is a static state that can only exist without change.

However the realm which we function in is in a state of constant flux and continual change. We are creatures of four dimensions. The prior mentioned three and a fourth called time. We are constantly wrapped in a state of becoming.

Most exist as not the consciousness of your spirit, soul or even your mind, but instead as that of your eyes, hands and tongue. The child slaves of desire.

Poke

Surgically remove the holy endorphins
cascading through the watermarked empires
A road from Belief to Hand to Obliteration
We have all seen this head shot before
The clean tunnel that the crowds have cheered for
poking the eye of a spirit child wrapped in barbwire
Here the yawning Papal fingers stir in formaldehyde
and send forth the masses
supported by Dalian crutches
in black epidemic pilgrimages
brewing inside of your vision
in the storm windows of passive protection
And so the command comes forth
Congeal all realities to a dorsal retrospective
Serve them to the violent and dossal alike
Shock treatment of orgasmic proportions
doled out to the spines of those
that would be incarcerated by it
the marrow of bombs dressed in robes
and simmered in a thick broth or pungent currency
These androgynous computers
illogical reproductive systems
spin sideways in time
around a bloody rosary of binary coding
And what am I to this
I am the armor dressed like orphans
I am the orphan dressed like armor
I am the sperm carrying Trojan horse

A fabric woven by the terrorist of the International House of Pancakes
You wouldn�t laugh if it was your flapjack that were prisoners of war
in orbit he was to me the same girl
Up, up with the periscope!!!
When the end begins
The only saviors for a new beginning
Will be those seen as lunatics
The potential energy of water
Oceans hearing voices
Slanted wind spill
Rewrite the stone Rewrite the ocean with the eyes in your hands
Another volume morning
The dreams of eyes
Pressed snugly in their beds
I look as I
But the expression on your face
Is truly strange and horrifying
The kind that one wants to strike down
I was at a party and realized that I was shifting in and out of time
I tried to tell people and they thought that I was crazy and began hitting Me with hor durvs. I ran and hid with the next door neighbor who flew me through time and space.
The disease on my hands called humanity
This is when he changed like a television image coming in from waves in Weave unto what make ourselves
Standing hands stain painted snow
The possibilities of movement
have carried us this far
just east of the equator
and jettison the cadaver bone
from the fragrant war machine
Automatic
Check the cannery
when the reflection becomes the ideal
Ego is a generator to individual isolation
It separates the part from the whole
And we are all parts
Equilibrium
Melted by the years
would you mind driving me to NY in the third person