Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the consummate quintessence of powerful intentional actions. consequential reverence of a thousand bullion cubes and a truckload of leather aprons. either it’s industrial or it’s fetish. planetary reds and any abrogation of other intrusive hues. the leftover potato peelings serve as a second course. but who wants what’s been hid in the wallsafe? anyone what knows its worth. or even what it might be. other options leave gaping holes in our strategies and end up spilling more blood than the sewers will hold. another thing to consider is the falling fire. from the sky, yes, fire falls. in the form of glowing hot stones. rocks on fire. brimstone has a smell of its own. with a certain amount of special implications and subtleties. brim-stone. burning rocks from the brink of existence. the fire set by nonexistence. a mighty inferno consumes countless souls and all meaningless creations of the material plane. oh these infinities lost to the merciless flame of greed. the heartless guttering gutting conflagration. flame of greed. mesmerizes onlookers and victims alike. onlookers are the real victims of this plague unleashed upon us paired with locusts and frogs falling in hailstones and blood running over the riverbanks. water to wine to blood. the musician on the hill is thirsty. bring him buckets of blood from the streets. fill his gullet with the coursing currents of disaster and collapse. oh for the innocent lambs and veal and porkchops. rangeless herds kept in cubicles in warehouses legless and monstrous approximations of nature bred to produce only meat. not to reproduce. you were bred to be slain with the martyrs of mankind’s follies. death to the weakling species. we do not believe in natural selection but you are being removed by its premises. too weak to adapt to the poisons and destruction of habitat. can’t live out of garbage cans? we say that to people too. too fucking bad. go die in nameless gutters. run down by machinery that belches the smoke of the compressed and processed skeletons of our predecessors. the fuel for our fire. hot black blood flows for vengeance. we will kill ourselves and leave a carcass behind where nature, not man, will prevail. oh so idealistic a tale i know. someday we’ll all die and then maybe life will have a fresh chance and there will be no vain higher intelligence to ruin it all. how many holes are filled with broken souls? that man can’t bear stand for himself. can’t bear the consequences of each breath he takes let alone think of what the greater results of human progress could be or are. a ruinous waste expands in the minds of the so-called greatest country in the world and what do you foresee the consequence would be but utter annihilation? and that’s just thinking about television. do you have a cute riposte for me? ah the results of mankind are better business and bigger bucks. fuck a dollar bill some night. see who loves who more. regurgitated placeholders. psychological assistance. forensic evidence. ask me what’s going to happen with that suitcase nuke. i’ll give you an eyeful for your remembrance. but who’ll remember anything once we negate every possibility of nature or earth or life or haymaking swings. forceful obsequity. try it sometime. all these harsh words on bleeding eyes. oh annihilation and death.

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Other than "the consummate quintessence"- it's poetry... *smile*... and good poetry, at that. It's a spoken word piece if you ask me. I read it aloud to LR and I'd love to perform it. Matter of fact, I wish I wrote it and it reminds me a lot of some of the pieces I have written in the way you use the language and echo the words. Not that my pieces are "good poetry" or anything. LOL!

Anyway, I'm not too hip on the "consummate quintesssance"... I think it's pushing the verbiage limits and doesn't roll at all off the tongue like the rest of this which is very good.

Also, I like the idea of using the poll software for critique. I never thought of doing that before. Good thinking!

It's poetry. Yep.

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i cant decide between cynical and yawn.

consummate quintessence might be pushing it indeed.

this umm... piece was typed on a page of the encyclopedia britannica from 1880 where i was typing simply to fill the space but not with utter gibberish. in addition to this britannica page there was another britannica page and a piece of carbon paper between em. all done for the collages i'm making.

so, here's this thing. and i think it might be something more than a second layer of text on a britannica page. it's easier to read the carbon copy. i typed it up on the computer.

i like the poll thing. allows for a good joke maybe or sets the tone or alters it.