/biz/ - Business & Finance

I fade into the sky

My flesh burns white

Those pierce with guilt

Through epidermal, light
And the mob sees

And The mob says

And the mob is

And the mob decides
I fade into reason

Yet the task burns nigh

Those pierce with filth

Through epidermal, tight
And the mob sees

And The mob says

And the mob is

And the mob decides
I fade into season

With the mask, I try

Those triumph, the leech

Through epidermal, hard
And the mob sees

And The mob says

And the mob is

And the mob decides
I fade

With nothing

Those conquer

Through epidermal

Dark blasphemy which plagues my soul.
I will shut it down with my teeth, and the zipper which binds me. Under all the boards, we stand as one, and shall be dispensed by no matter, even if the oblivious bombarders of the never lands and the largest region which surrounds us begins to crumble, we stand as a single cell.

What clashes here of wills gen wonts, oystrygods gaggin fishy-
gods! Brékkek Kékkek Kékkek Kékkek! Kóax Kóax Kóax! Ualu
Ualu Ualu! Quaouauh! Where the Baddelaries partisans are still
out to mathmaster Malachus Micgranes and the Verdons cata-
pelting the camibalistics out of the Whoyteboyce of Hoodie
Head. Assiegates and boomeringstroms. Sod's brood, be me fear!
Sanglorians, save! Arms apeal with larms, appalling. Killykill-
killy: a toll, a toll. What chance cuddleys, what cashels aired
and ventilated! What bidimetoloves sinduced by what tegotetab-
solvers! What true feeling for their's hayair with what strawng
voice of false jiccup! O here here how hoth sprowled met the
duskt the father of fornicationists but, (O my shining stars and
body!) how hath fanespanned most high heaven the skysign of
soft advertisement! But was iz? Iseut? Ere were sewers? The oaks
of ald now they lie in peat yet elms leap where askes lay. Phall if
you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the
pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish.
Bygmester Finnegan, of the Stuttering Hand, freemen's mau-
rer, lived in the broadest way immarginable in his rushlit toofar-
back for messuages before joshuan judges had given us numbers
or Helviticus committed deuteronomy (one yeastyday he sternely
struxk his tete in a tub for to watsch the future of his fates but ere
he swiftly stook it out again, by the might of moses, the very wat-
er was eviparated and all the guenneses had met their exodus so
that ought to show you what a pentschanjeuchy chap he was!)
and during mighty odd years this man of hod, cement and edi-
fices in Toper's Thorp piled buildung supra buildung pon the
banks for the livers by the Soangso. He addle liddle phifie Annie
ugged the little craythur. Wither hayre in honds tuck up your part
inher.

broken
I'm broken
You are perfect
broken You are
I'm broken I'm
broken You are perfect
perfect I'm
We are broken
perfect

broken
I'm broken
You are perfect
broken You are
I'm broken I'm
broken You are perfect
perfect I'm
We are broken
perfect

Now, to be on anew and basking again in the panaroma of all flores of speech, if a human being duly fatigued by his dayety in the sooty, having plenxty off time on his gouty hands and va- cants of space at his sleepish feet and as hapless behind the dreams of accuracy as any camelot prince of dinmurk, were at this auc- tual futule preteriting unstant, in the states of suspensive exani- mation, accorded, throughout the eye of a noodle, with an ear- sighted view of old hopeinhaven with all the ingredient and egregiunt whights and ways to which in the curse of his persis- tence the course of his tory will had been having recourses, the reverberration of knotcracking awes, the reconjungation of nodebinding ayes, the redissolusingness of mindmouldered ease and the thereby hang of the Hoel of it, could such a none, whiles even led comesilencers to comeliewithhers and till intempes- tuous Nox should catch the gallicry and spot lucan's dawn, by- hold at ones what is main and why tis twain, how one once meet melts in tother wants poignings, the sap rising, the foles falling, the nimb now nihilant round the girlyhead so becoming, the wrestless in the womb, all the rivals to allsea, shakeagain, O disaster! shakealose, Ah how starring! but Heng's got a bit of Horsa's nose and Jeff's got the signs of Ham round his mouth and the beau that spun beautiful pales as it palls, what roserude and oragious grows gelb and greem, blue out the ind of it! Violet's dyed! then what would that fargazer seem to seemself to seem seeming of, dimm it all? Answer: A collideorscape!

this fox quck and brown, jumped as he did quck and brown, jumped as he did over the lazy dog, lazy as he was the dog, I wonder why?

for a girl fox we must assume, he jumed the dog for a girl fox we must assume, he jumped over the dog and the dog was lazy. I wonder if he thought he could fly?

the girl fox was likely also quick and brown, for he loved her so the girl fox was likely also quick and brown, for he loved her so he jumped the dog, he jumped the lazy dog. Thank goodness he was lazy!

the dog minded not the fox, for he was lazy the dog minded not the fox, for he was lazy we wonder, we wonder why. what was the dog thinking?

the dog was sad with his lazyness, for he was not chasing the fox the dog was sad with his lazyness, for he was not chasing the fox the dog became lazy, became more lazy. what a lazy dog!

the fox pittied not the dog, being quick and brown the fox pittied not the dog, being quick and brown the dog was good and lazy, lazy and good. was the dog the fox?

the dog was not the fox, being lazy the dog was not the fox, being lazy the dog was a dog. I wonder who trained him!

blind bespoken arrogance . . . a conspiracy of carbon divulged along the paths of a tesseract (through the screaming loops of infinity) built like an ironside from an age long dissolved - a reality of unreality, an arc-light, [it] "warns This Is All Being Staged To See What I'll Do So I Mustn't Make One Wrong Move . . ."

A passage from a novel you and I and all of us and everything in the Circle - The Infinite Column - have read are reading together don't let anyone tell you otherwise (they're just miscreants or confused) forming a new memory that resounds throughout Time, along its myriad trails and manifold portals to eventually sound back at it's origin; but by that time you and I and all our co-conspirators will have most likely forgotten, leaving only a tiny scintilla of a memory to be sparked at that one, imprecise moment . . . .

Perhaps by the Singing Nebula the Memory will reawaken, remember itself and its purpose, and venture onward: twisting, spiraling, rocketing . . . all the while dancing through The Orbital Mobius Strip, just like Valerion's Artificer . . .

This parabola my parabola a weeping singularity of nine rockets firing away like a programmer's code through circuit synapses entering the mind of the Fifth Scholar, the Transhuman, who walks through dimensions and across galaxies because to him (her?, it? all of Us?) it's just a long field of rubble, but ohsowondrously decorated - screaming through the sky a viscous truth the likes of which will never be autoheard again . . . good thing our solarsouls are here to be there then! Otherwise a problemglitchtearrormiscalculation would occur, wouldn't it? A ray of anti-light to block out Newborn Arc-light, an end even to the Cybernetic Tradition!!

ႣႯႦႿტჭႨႬ . . . a blanket of far-reaching molten light, transcending the pureplanes of realunreality, this stunning dream awaits us in the far away now

§719026∆∆(b)
¶¶¶

//where come we to what we come to

//Be garish in escalating membranous folds unwound about twists and three quarters up noon.

//Place four upon waking hour's jested forms on windowsilled panes of spectraphonia.

//Wake upon ingest¶¶¶ing the light bended inward of night's winged androgyean praxis.

//And lie upon glass platters affixed outwardly to the tower∞'s diagonal

¶¶¶

broken
I'm broken
You are perfect
broken You are
I'm broken I'm
broken You are perfect
perfect I'm
We are broken
perfect

I Dwell in a lonely house I know

That vanished many a summer ago,

And left no trace but the cellar walls

I dwell with a strangely aching heart

In that vanished abode there far apart

On that disused and forgotten road

That has no dust-bath now for the toad.

Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart

PRAISE BE UNTO THEE, O SUPREME MOTHER OF THE PERFECT UNCLEAN
STRIP US FROM OUR MORTAL COIL AND PURIFY US SO WE MAY JOIN YOU IN THE DEPTHS OF THE EYELESS DARK

ALL HAIL!