Plenty of artist highlight the violent play dolled up as peaceful. Keep the one of artistry, creating, on the run, engaged in activities where they are to dive into the waters of words, words, words...dorothy on that path off and away, among a hell, that is an infinite movement, no home, just skip until you are dead type of routine.
Take note of the ice cooler with blood...cross-apply heatwave (BIJ Dare)and phone line "words, words, words" play, along with out of time, cut the line. Think mirror and a Unicorn, cinnamon bun in the oven, Slave to the Audio, a cover for setting up Prancing N*%%#$ play. The internet is so useful; that activity; grid her up. Learn to be good, no risk (forget the muse, the oceans, the transcend), what's it going to take to shake her. Cross-Apply window pane among ice, and cross-apply age of animal, including play bunnies. Cross-Apply the valuing bodies in the mirror, process gutted. Cross-Apply One Night/All Night (consider Cybele, Rhea, Demeter, Persephone). Cross-Apply the tubes draining with Girl and the Robot. Cross-Apply differing associations among always polished presentations, devoid of Hypatia & Christian Social Party into Nazism. No controversy, whatsoever, and yet great artists highlight that polished play, cross-apply Prince's controversy (Of an artistry challenging violent plays fleeced by the church no longer permitted on American Radio, as North Korean military goosestepping culture is to arrive in the US as the new and improved civil society). Bi-polars, binary praise, mania on deck, cross-apply manic world (these lucrative difficulties). Paper or Plastic? Fixture Picture (You can't be pure and in love)? Red Dress, Red Dress Cross, Red Shoes, Constantinople (Constantine officiating something)? Cross-Apply Mickey Peace hand on the car at the end of this presentation. If the Mickey Hands are still confusing, cross-apply Kara Walker's work, along with quotes like "The silhouette says a lot with little information, but that's also what the stereotype does." "It's not really about blackness, per se, but about blackness and whiteness, and what they mean and how they interact with one another and what that power is all about." (Something like, keep the ancient matters away, she's not to exist, and those of a corresponding nature caught up among the struggling divide, involved, among unfortunate event, coupled with a bleeds it leads headline, and candlelight vigil with mickey gloves, along with a striving for resolution that we already know intends on falling short, rinse and repeat) Back to Kara Walker, "I think really the whole problem with racism and its continuing legacy in this country is that we simply love it. Who would we be without the struggle?" And not to speak for, but among that play, a checkered struggle does well in relation to catching one of a particular nature into matters of controversy, matters of unfortunate event, matters of words, words, words, matters of mental health, incessantly, until the unfortunate event occurs. It's all so sad for those ready to appear on stage. Much like the American Media, if it bleeds it leads, so among such a loss, how among what is valued, could there actually be a loss worth addressing, which among these fine plays of earth angel, that couldn't be, and yet that is what is happening. Join in, or the foyer, among hermetic jibe and smiles. These matters stuck on repeat, controller play, rag dolls, all with a need to explore what's going on as the hands conveniently keep falling short, while running the irrationalizing "struggle" whip those of a particular nature not of any form of protection, just on the margin, targets without consequence. Their deaths do not matter so much. This artist toward commercial challenge is a fraud. This artist toward commercial challenge is dangerous. The unseriousness. The humor. The one not expensive enough to be eccentric (nor do I care to be expensive loves, not a handout in-need type of personality, ready to fall, nor would classist notions work considering my actual experiences, among lives lived from these various avenues, talls and smalls. The mirror is superficial, the old lot in life a responsibility, and beyond that the process is what matters, like water on the castle window. The have and have not matter is largely absurd to me. That domain isn't a foundation for living, but rather a foundation for living death. You can still find what you love, which in terms of substance, will involve rigors of process, creativity and an actual production of substance. One has nothing, then take a walk in nature and collect leaves and specimens for example. Illustrate if you like).
Just these symbols and behavioral patterns in relation to matters highlighting the plays of those desiring violence among patriarchal ordering, and those of a differing design (not adhering to a life in the mirror devoid of what a differing order desires, of a connection understood in relation to creative endeavor) dealing with these incessant plays aimed at entrenching one of this design into word play, the infinite slide called hell. We can take words, and even hold association of words and desire, at face value, and go with a tradition in a way that simply assesses how matters superficially look in the mirror, among those concerned who are always peaceful of course, among some with a wolve's clothing that can easily veil without critical measure, while disregarding the play of setting up the stage... Sure it can be cold, but how did this ever come to be, and considering matters of written record, tracing that design is critical, especially considering matters involving crosses to hypatia and Christian Social Party to Nazism. Again, that isn't aimed at insulting Christians, but highlighting again in all avenues there will be rational and irrational minds, good intents among bad intents dolled up as good. Tracing that play, that behavior is critical, of which requires the mind's eye, not simply seeing is believing therefore the air we breathe does not exist, of illogical basis.
To play with the networked play and to get the creative onto the grid and keep oscillating, keep generating that play that intends on one who has to speak up, which again further plays into matters of portrayal, among those applying the irrationalizing treatments, at peace, trying to figure out what's wrong. Again, it's something sharply understood in Europe, and often met with an intense response by those who have been tied to these forms of killing. It's commonplace where I am from, and it is still odd considering the network in Peachtree City. Why nickname me Heaven? Why that? Again, it's not a polemic. I'm not assuming bad intent, but I am coming from a violent past, and I know the patterns, among certain men, who let's be clear, they do not like me, much like they didn't like my friends (All smiles, caring loving, not a critical bone, white light). They were intent on remaining outwardly peaceful, always offering kindness, and very good at slipping the opportunity toward ambition under the table, to hold association, spin the intelligence, and gun with the incessant play of lose-lose bind, and the artistry in Europe highlights this. It's just something to be aware of, and also to note, matters are still oriented in a way here that looks nice in the mirror, but at the end of the day, isn't nice at all. Friendly faces, friendly smiles, and desires that like those of a certain design dismantled, erased, if not outright, there can always be concerns for their mental health, and this incessant embrace of words. But I don't suffer obviously. I remain within my creative domain, so life is actually good, even if I am still vigilant in communicating these interesting interactions that could go in a bad direction.
To play with the networked play and to get the creative onto the grid and keep oscillating, keep generating that play that intends on one who has to speak up, which again further plays into matters of portrayal, among those applying the irrationalizing treatments, at peace, trying to figure out what's wrong. Again, it's something sharply understood in Europe, and often met with an intense response by those who have been tied to these forms of killing. It's commonplace where I am from, and it is still odd considering the network in Peachtree City. Why nickname me Heaven? Why that? Again, it's not a polemic. I'm not assuming bad intent, but I am coming from a violent past, and I know the patterns, among certain men, who let's be clear, they do not like me, much like they didn't like my friends (All smiles, caring loving, not a critical bone, white light). They were intent on remaining outwardly peaceful, always offering kindness, and very good at slipping the opportunity toward ambition under the table, to hold association, spin the intelligence, and gun with the incessant play of lose-lose bind, and the artistry in Europe highlights this. It's just something to be aware of, and also to note, matters are still oriented in a way here that looks nice in the mirror, but at the end of the day, isn't nice at all. Friendly faces, friendly smiles, and desires that like those of a certain design dismantled, erased, if not outright, there can always be concerns for their mental health, and this incessant embrace of words. But I don't suffer obviously. I remain within my creative domain, so life is actually good, even if I am still vigilant in communicating these interesting interactions that could go in a bad direction.
And to recap on the one, the madam, the miss, the sen-yora, who references me as heaven, we discussed choice Metallica Albums, of which one has hands with strings among the crosses, so I wonder....Heaven is who I am to be it seems, and yet, can we not question why that is? Much like, again, I am in the office with a store manager and the store lead, of affirmations that I am crazy, of which let me be your worst embodiment, have you even made the effort to follow the matters that I can already take note of, you do not follow. Why lack such effort, and affirm matters that wouldn't hold a basis? I can't control these matters though, nor would I thumb my nose at such choices, though I would say, one would simply thrive under a rock, if that is the choice to be had. We can smile, but that wouldn't mask what most minds, considering the assertion without basis, actually mean, of a form of ignorance, that those, regardless of the visual in the mirror, say, looking professional, amiable, and wise, actually is. It's not a good look, even if it does look good. It genuinely isn't from a place of hate. It's simply from a place that respects what even those among my generation desire, a time to stop pretending. Let's cut the shit and dig into what's there, which has little to do with any and all matters of gloss.