Realizationism Art Blog

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Tuesday, May 24, 2011


      Led to a self-exile once again…these detachments was quite proper as now I saw the situations getting rougher and tougher. Maybe I have dupe myself so much. I have to saw the meaning of all these once again…there my fishes are roaming waiting to be nourished.
    As the spiny path of recent past have we cross now I thought carried by the flood but still the echoing gyrated scoff as I stall. This are part of the illumination, of the traverse path only selected among the vast, the chosen few…and now can I request you my father to let this cup pass?
   On the pelagic realm of the cannibalistic society where you have to stay focus on the truth and be not swayed. 
   Will I stab another unheralded epic move? The ocean is vast and all you need is to spread your net or at least hurl some lure. Turning the avenues isn’t enough to attract….you have to do some shout out. Advertise to be the authority. And now back to Laboratory and spot the flaws of the experiment. I might have missed a significant ingredient.
   I saw her sacrifice and fortitude to fill the gap I have not filled. Amidst the burning heat or windy bristle of rain, that she ignores to brave the horizon; and the constant danger of being on the road. The preacher; whose images are hailed as excellent on the painted lane– what a tremendous foolishness, to be even given the designations. Part of the wine you have to drink was to swallow the sneer.
   Her affability was to entice the audience….Now you are experiencing audible range voices…stop it! Stop it! Don’t listen to the jesting of the fraudster.  If she is giving time to them it is because of her nature. No bones to carry my own flesh…flaw eating me. I held my head up high and see my vision. They misunderstood her and lie and wait to kill…to blaspheme? I just became what I am, have I chosen to write my novel this way? Don’t let my enemies rule against me...
   And the story flow as they emerge on a brand new bleakness of a contrite heart bad bruised by sudden thud. Here the remorse was a vengeance of the spoils you have taken from your crafty patches. But have I not cried hard after the Queen of Thieves crash my head. Are they paying for their crimes? We have taken our part…from the great example she had mold us. Until the sudden death was justified by the conspiracy, in our projected innocence sculpted to gave the heroic exit and an excuse. And then I have left my own dark stains…Mark that face when you cross my path. They have scraped their crimes and republished with the saintly images of a guru we had become. 
   Now tell me the scriptural quotations Oh chosen of God, are you gentle? Are you pure? Remove the soft linen you have wrap your head down to your feet.  Why tell them the better religion you follow where in your closets you have hidden the cadaver…a smelly cadaver. 

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