1. |
Everything
10:13
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From what we know to be true, to what we see as lies, on every face of a clue, truth wears a wide disguise. Outside the laws we believe, grind cryptic cogs and gears. All distance drives to deceive. All detail disappears.
“Actual” never counts as contractual. “Factual” is a flash on a screen. A projection; a selection of scenery, fashioned by this machinery. Greenery, like a glass figurine, manufactured to be fractured. But not when seen.
Far off and deep within, through the core; past all the quarks that spin. Just before membranes pulling thin, through the door: something more.
When we avert our gaze, through the veil — vaguely, through the haze — all detail fades in and out of phase. So we sail off the trail.
Occasional rifts occur. Inconsistencies beckon us to infer where to find the keys.
Charity — from this gift of disparity: clarity to reverse-engineer. Like a quasar, these displays are empirical; in the shape of a miracle. Spherical, in the way that they steer what they seem like: floating dreamlike, then crystal clear.
We're locked within our brains, rendered blind to each of these domains, all combined. All these hidden planes we're inclined not to find.
Our intellect overwhelms, getting in the way. Hiding these other realms from another day.
We all could volunteer to explore every door and the promise it holds. Instead we live in fear of decay, and the day the economy folds.
From the price of gas making us run terrified, to the force and mass some of us might call a gram, we'd be wise to mark all of it unverified. Everything, from dark matter to light: it's all a hologram.
Our need for reference frames, for a wave to behave in the way that it should, can't verify the claims that define the design that we've misunderstood.
And as the future brings a resolve to evolve what we don't understand, we cling to petty things like the past in the vast simulation at hand.
Lift up the mask to reveal: we've never known what's real.
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2. |
Refuse
10:55
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One overt idea opened the door: tap the energy in the sun. A galleria into a war, where we got to play spin-the-gun.
After some hurting, we were converting dynamite to Fahrenheit. Those flames that were fashioned fanned and impassioned tiny bits of atom-splits to rise; from one collision cut from a hole into all of our future skies. Every incision out of control. Now we’re nothing but suture ties.
Mining bitumen came from the human cranium. Uranium showed up on our dockets; loaded on rockets. See them cruise to light their fuse.
Unchecked, we self-select. Speed leads us to exceed. Gorging on the greed, we drown. Each enhancement pulls us down. Such advancement. So thin whenever we begin, it’s as if we’re in reverse. Each improvement makes things worse. Every movement crash lands and then expands.
Crash land and then expand. So thin whenever we begin, it’s as if we’re in reverse. Each enhancement makes things worse. Such advancement. Speed leads us to exceed. Gorging on the greed, we drown. Each improvement pulls us down. It’s our movement: unchecked, we self-select.
More. More and more. More and more. More and more. More and more. More and more.
Psycho-transporters, quantum bomb-blades, nanobot mortars, EMP grenades with a brain-trigger, plasma longbows. Power gets bigger, and the record shows every day the number grows.
We could try to take ’em all apart; shut it down. But even if we did, fear would win, and it would all restart. It’s a losing bid. For every single weapon we defang, the force of another hundred will increase. Everybody wants to build a bigger bang in the name of peace.
Particles pelting, morphing and melting solid ground; forever bound to runaway bruising, fused and refusing to conclude the day unglued.
Stone, as hard as ever; not quite as strong. Earth is all an erosion zone. Because we’ll never wait very long for another explosion.
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Bubblemath Minneapolis, Minnesota
Condensing out from the icy mists of Minneapolis, Minnesota, the first official incarnation of Bubblemath took shape in 1995. But the winds of circumstance were hard on poor, innocent Bubblemath, and the band found itself shaped and re-shaped, again and again, until the current and definitive lineup achieved full realization in October of 1998. ... more
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