WHAT OF THE LOST ORIGINAL (NOW) ?

by Brendan S


What of the lost, original..?

What of the foundation, to your embyronic question..?

What is the need for questions, if you have a statement.

If, the reality is a "realization" are you shocked, numb, or all four or five options when given more than one..?

Is reality how you feel, or what you think you feel..?

I want an answer.

Let's look at the factualities and factualisms of this case


First, a lot of questioning has felt itself brought into action through sub-neutronic devices, others exist in the candle unburned that rests at home at "this time."

The other question, is a new guitar sound.

Third, to the motif if all reason to general question, no fear in multability.

I see that no one wants to ask the question, but "why" do you do this to yourselves..?


The giving up, of modern need for plastic renderings of mock "ideas of ideas" when they themselves are not even original ones.


The carbon-copy reality of another carbon-copy reality is all you get, and the weed is strong, while the coke is dumbed down. Stepped on, like the church-steeple stairway.


We hardly know why, but a reckoning always seems to fall upon us.


Time and time again, history replete with energy and a linearity in its exponential power increase, a new power each time.

Do we question the rhythm..?

Or did something happen to the human heart..?

Not fast enough for you, or are you not slow enough, or are you just rushing to something you really need to do.


I wonder why a man can be stripped of his power, when and always real one's always know how to say it without saying it, while others preach out in the open how stupid they are when it arrives the mere question of words alone.

Someone tries to be a better writer than me, so I paint.

Someone tries to be a better poet than me, so I write again.

Someone tries to be a better painter than me, so I make a hexagram.

I try to look at the world through honest eyes, so I can still see the polar bears that play with a beach-ball that made it through the surf of one of their undying sunny days, laughing at "that shaman."

In the ocean somewhere, a rainbow sun, or the field I walk through. Not the terrible things you put on TV.

Or the way you stare, at a body made of waves, not just skein or even the skein of time, but skin. Sensable, as well as "sensitive" power, and certainty to feel -- a desire to feel you abuse.

Since I want to feel, you desire me more, when I already know what I want, but what I want is new to you.

Why..?

Have you never seen a good movie, if you like "TV" so much..?

Break it, baby..!


BLS