Tuesday, August 11, 2009
PDX Art: Alter-nation at MP5
Skin deep rip off
Breasts Basquiat bio bombing on a sparrow’s space
You’ll never be the same twice exhale boot camp hair ball floating on charisma down a shoot of the sublime conditions get it fix me blow it break off
Tradition sucks blood like vampire mosquitoes with bat wings like we are all looking for an antidote to the social venom that paralyzes the auto immune system to side step the corporate trap that can afford the most brilliant disguise but that’s show business isn’t it!
I raise the roof of the lower cortex and smear peanut butter on my face because the earth keeps on churning anyway.
Maintenance eats a small fortune turns world class into zero tolerance bites reality to pony up.
Alter nation copulates with the primitive past secretly seducing a sterilized society.
Existential trauma fornicates with the dream of a higher culture. Life size doesn’t mean over sized it speaks in balanced algorithms and tempered behavior. Code becomes trend, trend becomes main stream and mainstream becomes commercial.
Wink, wink the underground is not made from velvet but from screws nails and failure. Left behind are the dreamers that button up their hearts like the herdsman their zippers.
Slavism has been digitized “other” describes just a profile a preference a non commitment to let’s say “any”.
Phobia is on the radar screen of middle of the road puppies of home made politics.
Everybody cheats sometimes while life goes on in constant anticipation of being exposed as over-rated.
Suburbia has been demystified. Call me intergalactic because I travel in alternatives.
Everyone gets fucked with no matter who it is. There is no safety net no umbrella insurance against self prostitution.
Okay we are all actors so why expect anything from anyone. Why do we keep asking questions about alternatives.
Why pray out loud at the altar of consumerism if it only leads to more junk in the house.
Time takes care of it all anyway. It might take a few thousand years but what is it to us as long as the juice of success can be pumped from the well of delusion.
Why look for meaning when life has not promised not offered us a guaranty.
Life time guaranty to anyone?
Superheroes can afford to be fatalistic because they survive as fiction no matter what.
Yesterday was just a second away a sound that past by like a bullet train running from its own big bang.
We see the tracks but everything is just a memory already. A memory of things we might have only imagined that they really happened.
A memory we keep ripping off for what it’s worth because nothing penetrates skin deep anymore.
We have learned to be more careful. The rabbit is running from its own hole in distrust but blue berries still grow in early summer.
Revolutions happen silently in Democracies and with every piercing the rebellion grows with every tattoo on pale skin another marker has been set to replace the status quo.
New temples of worship pop up out from the debris of popular culture and are filled with blossoms of a stranger kind of nation.
Let it be a kinder nation with a kindred spirited future.