1. |
Capricorn
03:11
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The sustenance of old becomes the stench of failure. The crops rot in fallow fields before the factory. They blacken the blood and decay. Capricorn, you are born to feed. Capricorn, engineered for the masses.The pride of the worker, crushed under the wheels. The ritual of the hunter, now a smashed temple. The ever devouring doctrine, blesses the worm. Born of corporate ingenuity into the flow of currency. Worker, I have seen your wrinkled hands tied behind your back in copper and gold. Capricorn, I have seen the bloodstone laid before the womb of process, the Blight in the cornucopia, the gangrene on our hands. When our intake falls like a noose on our necks and the worker is gagged by the bill; when the earth is scorched for golden calves and the capital turns another head - this system will not last.
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2. |
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A fractured reality stretching out our hands, fingers reaching outward to each other to feel that spark of humanity. But the spark evaporates into the aether. We are forever searching for a spark that promises infinity. Grasping desperately at stinging emptiness.
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3. |
Mere Phantoms
00:58
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A life in boxes/a life in fear. We are all trespassers here. Disgust for details/irreplicable shapes. A life under cracked ceilings, in front of blue screens, with hands on digits and triggers. Never to know the smell of rain and earth. Never to taste the bark/world disconnect. Take it all away. Parasitic existence.
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4. |
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Wave after wave. Iron rain cascading. Remote dispatch. Hail of Imperialist greed. Punishing the earth and the broken bodies. Daisy-chained in mourning on cold static screen. Come, droning unmanned engine. Soaring over the steel gates surrounding ivory towers of apathy. Iron reign of the hive. Parasitic swarm. Droning incessantly until colonies collapse.
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5. |
Famine Liturgy
04:02
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A pressed hand against a rough surface erases the ruins like chalk, so lightly brushed to cold winds. Our liturgy, lest we forget their names. Your revenue, your repentance. Our voice crushed under miles of paper and ink. A suffocating smog born of ceaseless error. Ills of a society bent on capital, breeding thrones for fools. Thousands crushed under the march of the avatar. A head, disembodied, born of murk and fortune, ruling the starved, driving the weary. Carnival lights to blind and erase; a famine for a slow death.
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6. |
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Decadent silence every morning when we arise. Their marrow is dissolved in lead and phosphorus. Ring of flowers on a caged dog’s head. Walking along dunes, rebar, fields. Shrouded womb of security. Bloodied hand of a worker. Allegiance to a silent harbinger. Stringing skins along a constellation of wells. Our heads grow quieter everyday as the clandestine wars rage on.
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7. |
Millenial Patriarch
04:08
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These eternal divisions, incandescent parallel lines. Running from our fathers of always, that trample the mothers of now. Patriarch, you sit before me; father, you show me our tradition. A lineage of violence/a lineage of commodification. These binaries reinforce the construct of separation. These binaries prescribe what is of man. Placate the legends of always. This construct is illusory. Your definition is self-made. Your dominance is nothing to me. Your dichotomy places the golden crown on your temples. The subtlety in our discourse poisons us still. If this is what it means to be a man, I reject this.
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Mere Phantoms Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
3-Piece grime from Western Pennsylvania.
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