Artificial Hydroponifier

Freewrite #4: Boredom at the Office

Alphabetic idiosyncratic make a list and check it till the G-ddamn cows come home to roost. Red, red, purple, red, misfile, misfire, clean the gun or it might sully the clamps. Never seen stirrups covered in mittens or industrial sized tubes of labia lubricant? That's a Tuesday for me, because everyone knows bulldozers come on Thursdays. Stamp stamp scribble, scribble scribble put away. No one seems to get a rhythm here, 'cept me, of course. Drifting through deserts desperately drinking diet dredge to destroy the doldrums. Scoot rumble scoot JAM...damn. Busy busy busy. Punch out a couple o' eyes, make room for the uterus, kids! Yet I need a family, even if it's elbow-deep in dried-up riverbeds.

-DubTak

Proton Shaver

Freewrite #3: Still Life

"Neon diagonal interrupts barrel aging. Flying buttresses surround neat, never over, with inappropriate flexible membranous vacuums. Walls of narrative, of unique snowflakes and falling frogs and Irish avengers; one of verticum and another wonders why on this night we use pillows and dip parsley. Spires dance with ease of tubery, testament to blue or brown or clear or some manner of bitey burn. Aged woodstock tells stories of tartan bound bags, Colonels and divorcers, lager and high-sticking, and of course the occasional porcelain-bound king. Plasticene green means sweet and sour power, man of the hour, cactus cowers before topless vestibules of imbibed embarassment. Yet the strong downward slice of verdant ice makes one ponder an empty vessel."

Just a little experiment to pass the time whilst at home.

-DubTak

Hypersphere Driver

Freewrite #2: Association and Derailment on the word "Creation"

~Creation, Bara, Yetzirah, Nothing from Infinite, Something from Nothing, Something from Something, and on to Something's end. Spark upon the void through nothing, through wisdom and understanding landing in knowledge's empty embrace. A tree, leaves wreath the crown, roots ensare the kingship below the Trumpeter's foundation. Light through the canopy, past the percusionist's perch, through feather and fire and down deep diving into dirt.

Behold! A line, cutting through spirit, crashes against the slimy shore of inanimacy, incongruent and inflammable, flaring fast up tunnels of roc and griffin, wonder wings, amber gleam past Bull and Hawk and Tiger and beligerent Biped. Bazak! Down the tree and back, as above so below, below so above.

A conductor's wand tip taps, roaring silence divides perfect unity. Promenade past paintings exhibited upon Fowl's Legs, great gates crashing gonging shimmering shining birthing banging light from shrouded curtain boiling bubbling rising BOOM!

From order to chaos, broken shards of clay create creation.~

A little respite from my usually bloodlusty dark style. I'm versatile, I swear!

My thoughts and prayers to those subject to terror and violence in Mumbai.

-DubTak

Myrdmonic Carbonizer

Freewrite 1: Association and Derailment on the word "Dominance"

~Dominance is not aggressiveness, or so dog trainers tell me. Despite what porn sites attempt to clue me in on, I don't think dominance is leather and whips and suspension and master slavers downing mutant behemoths in the Wastes (too much Fallout 3). Dominance, not control, not leadership, dominance. Pecking order, order of operations, + before - but only after /. Calm, unmoving, unstoppable, righteous, commanding.

I prefer aggression. No illusion of control, real aggression. Spitting violence and blood-stained air and sounds so guttural another must be using your Colombian Neck-Tie. A beast, chained, cornered, fed, watered, sheltered, bored. Feral, primal sputterings, angry mutterings aside, not snide, without pride but with an unquenchiable desire to kill. Seeing beating and pumping and heat and sweet and salty and red. Mist upon a battle-worn sea to the Gates of Gre'thor. Pride ourselves on our control, how above the fray we may believe a pacifistic passivistic fluffly white mess, but I know the rest.

Grab behind the spine, little lines flow to all the important mumbo jumbo just to keep us from falling over, dust in the windy night. Pushing purpose poses problematic pristine postulates perverse penetrations privvy to popular punishment. Sparks fly down highways to hamhocks bottlenecking before busting open the beast within. Red...

Fear the taste of blood, not for its taboo well-to-do crime against the brood, but because it might taste good. I wonder upon the precipice debating falling or jumping, but the ground will find me less regard. If upon my last breath, my whimpering, sputtering finale, my own life tastes sweet before my eyes, let it be known that I lived a life less livid, sans sanguine, andante ante agressivo.

Pockmarcked pores, pus pouring protrusions, perverse preclivity, predispotion for pain or perhaps simply pious. Canis Calcitite, all too white, desiring more than coexistance. Desiring Dominance.~

Tadaa! Now I sound like a serial killer! Mission Accomplished! Just a little mad rambling inspired by some of my ongoing works and some...interesting little trists (nothing unlawful, I promise). I hope you all enjoy my delirium!

-DubTak