The words are G.P.O.'s, printed in a 1993 article in Verbal Abuse #2 called "On The Way To The Garden". "Dreams are a coded material of eternity. We possess LIGHT through them. "Those who accept LIGHT control mortality. Those who control LIGHT control immortality" Space is our church, the stars our windows, our dreams navigate pathways. Only an ancient map has been lost. Our world's a dream, a miserable one. In our unfathomable ignorance we call it the only reality, consensus reality, we assume that its events, human events, human life, are implicitly of value. This buries us in a quicksand of compassion. Be subtle to the point of formlessness Be mysterious to the point of soundlessness Be extreme to the point of powerlessness A Garden was destroyed by a Word, destroyed by Language, became the first Memory. Time was set in motion at this point. The garden did not exist within Time, or language, it was an exterior neural projection, a Cathedral that worshipped its occupant, the Soul. Representing as it did the Mind at Preset without Light, there was nothing to reflect, shape, or fix this particular dream." A more complete transcript can be found here: mothernyc.com/verbal/onthe.html
still one of my personal favorite pieces ever put out there..."our world is a dream, a miserable one"
It's in the Top 5 of the songs I tuned in today. What a sad day.
this song is weirdly hypnotizing
what a great song!!!
Great!
Do someone know where the spoken pieces-samples came from? sounds interestin..
The words are G.P.O.'s, printed in a 1993 article in Verbal Abuse #2 called "On The Way To The Garden".
"Dreams are a coded material of eternity. We possess LIGHT through them.
"Those who accept LIGHT control mortality.
Those who control LIGHT control
immortality"
Space is our church, the stars our windows, our dreams navigate pathways.
Only an ancient map has been lost.
Our world's a dream, a miserable one. In our unfathomable ignorance we
call it the only reality, consensus reality, we assume that its events,
human events, human life, are implicitly of value. This buries us in a
quicksand of compassion.
Be subtle to the point of formlessness
Be mysterious to the point of soundlessness
Be extreme to the point of powerlessness
A Garden was destroyed by a Word, destroyed by Language, became the first
Memory. Time was set in motion at this point. The garden did not exist
within Time, or language, it was an exterior neural projection, a Cathedral
that worshipped its occupant, the Soul. Representing as it did the Mind at
Preset without Light, there was nothing to reflect, shape, or fix this
particular dream."
A more complete transcript can be found here:
mothernyc.com/verbal/onthe.html
@@RustIronCrowe WOW, I didn't expect that, thank you!!
I was the 32 like so l make a sigil charge I.T. then the post below I.T. is from Aug 23