…we Came in?
by Occult Fan
It’s one thing to be aware of ‘style’. It’s entirely another to be in the pursuit of artistic genuity. I am of the latter than the former and it’s a might willow and willough and oak and freezing rain. The checkerboard, stay off of it, you’re already one’s own bane, and so it goes that you find you own reflection trapped in thorns and scary dark contortions you can’t pry from eyes in real time so you break inside your own mind coz you find you made your life of lies founded on the crippled sand of dusty wanting needless safe to say you were never sure again. Nah I’m just playin’. You can be sure these are ‘words’ until you call them something else. A call to action, an invective, a meditation, a tome. (feh).
So I write and I write and I expect this will make money. My boyishly good looking voice alone garners the hypnotized response of the most, and imagine my sexy stomach tightly pulsing out the songbird phoenix soaring cries of triumph, anguish, and pure party beats. Coz that’s what makes money, and that’s what’s fun to do. And I have some good inspiration in my corner on these ones. So mote it be, and so here we are. What a beautiful time of year. Got to add a pure positive moment in time reference, for any proper writing of posterical purveyal.
So I’m positive about the future upcoming. It -is- going to be different, as say, Gordon White points out in his ‘Chaos Protocols’ (you will purchase it within the near few months), the economic landscape is changing in ways one must literally be a chaos magician to innerstand, however, how much chaos you’re willing to expose yourself to and -why- more importantly, we shall see what is to come. I know I will be. Participating in chaos magic, that is. Magick is also cool, so, -schweva-
Four paragraphs for four elements for four magical doves flying inward your heart growing warm, your eyes growing wide, the look of your lips by design makes me sigh in to the color of the blood vessels just beneath the nape where the color changes from white to red from the pressure that we’ve made, oh, you do say the sweetest things, when in common mock and cause and gesture and like graceful swan lilting ripples on the horizon, now your smile like the stars dot the skyline of my vision, you beautiful thing, creature, hazard, rapture.