The Dual

Extract Compress Load
Sleeve of Cultures
Art Plus Minus Digital
Human Machine Soul
Femme Homme
Plus Minus Objet Sans Nom
Spectacle OF Evolutions
Mask To Masks
Hand On Mouse
On Cave Wall
On Screen
In The Temple Of Time
We Are Married To The Same Energy
To Communicate
Historical Fact Fictions
Standing On Shoulders
Peering On Tomorrows
Libraries Of Yesterdays
Zeitgeist At Auction
The Meaning Is Always Between
The Opposites
Advance Advance
Celebrate And Mourn
Because Everything Changes
But Pieces Always Remain

The Meltdown

All that you saw, year after year
Is now melded in your visions
Getting complex under the finesse of history
(and shit like that)
Philosophy and reality and academicism start to buzz for 10 years in the stomach, euch!
Especially when you (understand)
Cut in to the masseverything in the moment in time
when your hand finds the surface (again)
When you make a feedback loop on the self (beware!)
Mindsurface (Mindsurfer, just like Kelly “Zisek” Slater)
Surging alluder
Color, language, desire, delusion, fiction, fact, society
And never forget
The Pillar of Fiction before The Tower of Fact
That is the Order
Mostly,

RdB

The Mean

Meaning, drifting, floating, wanting
But not pinning, no finding, no stopping
(Flavor Flav) Yeah boyyyyyyyyy
Generational reality, collective shapes
Events from the media
To bring something familiar
To strangers
Of the wave, each burst of kids, each in their decahedron
Phrases from the music of the times in which
Something found something
Binding those to those
These to these
And them to them
(but the rivers are not uncrossed)

RdB

The Burning

Losing it on operating systems Neenstyle
Chasing it down the channel (the choice)
The Artist as a braindancing mimetic, obstinate as the mule,
Clocked by a shining fake watch from China one day
And then a real Seiko the next
The Man as a bored entity, a noble beast, not the revealer of mystic truths
(how the label is so old and tired and at once an infant remains mysterious)
He ploughs away at the time, working and shaping it
(Pepa) Push it, push it real good
Now look, the next Utilitarian
wrestling the next Artist
the Artist dances to the left, jabs, ducks
but the Utilitarian slaps on a choke hold
Both fall down and freeze
Time has eaten itself and they have no place
Just not this morning
But perhaps in the afternoon
Coz we always had
Someone to make the monster
And someone to undress it

RdB