top of page
Search
  • robertsavela

Feck, aliens, and the Christ theory.

the evolution of obscurity series continues...




Genesis time fucking serenade for the end infinity feckin’ Feck mega volume all of them fuckers shall live in healthy torments. The blackened total war psyche background death hidden veil is always there with support from above and the schwag, the drugs, the drink, the age to come, the toe-tappin’ slippery fingers of entertainment dying by reality all night long…loooong nerves let the multitude perish….but as always time is trash, but…Optimistic, hippiedom style like a corpse we are all one family religion at the top rejoicing. Rock and roll for a ride can save losing-lives emotions and spirits and gathering of the most high angels helpin’ out. Content with the present, the presence, the intro, gathering of intros as in going to all the parties. Mounted treasures high and low into all the cities, all castes, all classes, y’all together what is real, we need the eagle flying non-narcissists nihilists in reverse what did I look like before I was born. Three hands and three heads working the last loves and the third mind above with helicopters going by the 3rdwing raised, obey and be civil grim reapers, sit back back-burner boys never, never, please resist the heads on the right side.

But old boy alien ways are better from where we speak. Toward the first devils and they like it, and talk back with crop circles and some kind of novel and the end of days and theories of supreme consciousness non-human’s universe via universe, amigos from the carved mountain. Metal power flying past stars and comet rings and moods of terrifying vision and tails and always on fire for the messiah-whirlings to dance and set free through malleted drum sessions and waves of invisibility keep away. Words floating in the heart of the sea and asemic stories written to make it loud, fire up the bong and the glossy cloth of goat’s vehicle we are in need of some freedom and curse the gods and movement all tremble while listening to stuff in the garden…in the beginning was ten more words…before that was dreams and ones that care for human origin music rhythm boom tap clack tap boom for many generations what comes around goes around philosophy of the ouroboros disciples and so, enso. I’ve been confusion. Meditate. Circles.

Alright alright alright microdose the Feck is where it’s at maybe, maybe infectious grooves though get behind me satan and water gods full of wrath and things like a tsunami hitting the shore float like a weed flower tree both high and low existence we humans should do the same like little homes alone, and Jesus. Noise rock sword and pestilence, noise melodic wealth and expression and the beat’s always there with guitar shaped thoughts out to the sky and a microscope into the pineal gland watch it vibrate x-ray. The third eye understands and open up brothers and sisters sampling the everyday, the signs, the unconscious open to hear.



1 comment
bottom of page