Separation of State

Blowing smoke, breaking wind, speaking out loud.
Sounds that carry themselves into the wind.
Separation of state of mind.
Bodies that moves, alone gathering dust without need.
People place you into categories.
Wooden drawers are filled with files of people that do not belong.
Their features or minds are warped into the shapes of the unwanted.
This false sense of gathering our opponent, filing, sifting the matters of seeing, of thought.
Glass into one container, paper into one container, the unwanted into one container,
compost into one container, rusted parts into one container.
This is the way we feel sometimes.
I sense that every being on this planet feels this way at one time or another.
You know the feeling,
the feeling that you have been separated and filed.
We live in a world preoccupied with words, music and art.
Work to live a simple life, feed your family
and then the world.

June 5, 2001 bongaJune 7, 2001
June 7, 2001 bongaJune 8, 2001
June 8, 2001 bongaJune 12, 2001
June 14, 2001 bongaJune 17, 2001
June 20, 2001 bongaJune 20, 2001
June 20, 2001 bongaJune 21, 2001
June 26, 2001bongaJune 26, 2001

Words & Graphics by Tomas