Aeylyeaelle Ellhe De Ellendeh

the simplified, empty cage of modernism

Vul­gar­i­ty, filth, dis­ease — with which this so­ci­ety flirts — its lan­guage, op­posed to that tears of sin­cer­i­ty are the di­vine wings or heaven

Mor 

i see a bus passing by on a talk show with pool houses

Then I stand in the psy­chi­a­try staff room and say, you are all my sec­re­taries for the Hor­ta Spir­i­tu­al Steel Com­pa­ny Then

Mor 

concept + kitsch

in the acad­e­my of roy­al arts antwerp 2004 the art teacher who is a fe­ro­cious mod­ern art lover states what is art someone

Mor 

well, if any chess masters are interested to look at the rules

I have a chess game with 220 pieces per play­er.  Well, I in­vent­ed it about ten years ago. It fea­tures tow­ers to defend

Mor 

the decay of modernism

  In         the death and the de­cay of         mod­ernism   and post­mod­ernist                                     de­con­struc­tivism  the sub­jec­tiv­i­ty                                         an­a­lyt­ics and arche­ol­o­gy it­self is                  de­con­struct­ed                 sub­jec­ti­fied                 analyzed

Mor 

might be overcompensating

Thou­sands of years of Doom of my soul.  BIL­LIONS of years of an­guish. AN IN­FIN­I­TY of de­spair, but i come at my peace on

Mor 

the large boulder slips thru our fingers

The civ­il are the weight, the joke that cap­ti­vates arts, they fuck­up any phi­los­o­phy, they con­sid­er sta­tus rather then ac­tu­al wealth to

Mor 

post facebook: dig a pit in the floor and put your mantras in it

And here we are, it’s not too hard to be­lieve that thou­sands are a step away, when the walls of ART are

Mor 

my christendom shirt

  nce peo­ple cap­i­tal­ized on a de­ity to­day we cap­i­tal­ize on prof­its the world is a sight to be­hold none of the spirit

Mor 

the end of art

When a De­ity is not Uni­ver­sal for sure the key to The Imag­i­na­tion which makes it spir­i­tu­al and for it to instill

Mor 

like a thousand hundred and eleven droplets in the ocean to them and myself a suffocating abyss

Mor 

provocation is insanity?

You are re­li­gious­ly mod­ernist. You dis­card­ed any loy­al­ty, prin­ci­ple, faith, beau­ty? You con­cep­tu­al­ized re­li­gion even so you don’t have to both­er. That

Mor 

the immodicism of bastian atreyu axis

My name is Bas­t­ian Atreyu Axis. No kid­ding ei­ther, real name. Watch be­hind me on the wall. LX­PHR and CHRIS­TII call it ex­treme schizophrenia

Mor 

‘will grade and place complete highways in a single operation’

Be­cause I’m an artist and I’d like to make a new one. Be­cause the old ones are … small. And old. I mean, you

Mor 

i think of us standing beside a highway

you are build­ing this Cubes, hive, a can­is­ter of op­por­tu­ni­ty. We are here to de­mand a few things of this world. first PLU­RAL­ISM You

Mor 

you can not develop modern-ism, only its pre-cursors

So it’s AL­WAYS the same They ALL say every­thing is sub­jec­tive now didn’t they? In the past they were all re­li­gious. So now

Mor 

manifesto against a rabid democracy

“No one ever be­lieved it enough to make it real.” “This is not fic­tion, this is re­al­i­ty.” “What I won­der, is when reality

Mor 

if they come to take away the humour, it sort of dawns

In this mo­ment, there is a cel­e­bra­tion of banned books as nihilism’s eerie vac­u­um calls the empti­ness of mod­ern life and guardians

Mor 

an angel quietly in the monastery sits

as i sit here be­tween these sharp bro­ken crys­tals of my tears i re­mem­ber how you lashed at me with your courage and wit

Mor 

wisdom

Wis­dom what I wouldn’t do and dy­ing as an art, for thee to touch you in your as mourn­ing cry­ing a heart, Bleu

Mor 

acting civil

IT’S A BLAST TO LIVE WHEN YOU BREAK OPEN TIME WHEN CELLI­NI AND BERNI­NI ARE RIGHT THERE AT YOUR BACK AND WHEN THE NEXT

Mor 

423 live stream: some things maybe you shouldn’t kno

So we’re set up for your live stream owh you got me booked, i’m al­ready ner­vous about blue writ­ings i don’t know perhaps

Mor 

of the social

Pre­cious lit­tle soap bub­ble of po­ets sen­ti­men­tal­i­ty stabbed on a day to day ba­sis by thou­sands of mil­lions of peo­ple.  Ahhh democracy.

Mor 

from plebs

An­gel of time, bringer of a dream take me back to where peace does seem with­in an in­ti­ma­cy real, somber and gloomy dread for

Mor 

muse of the cultured

Of the slick pol­ished mar­bles of white ruby doll dar­lins Of the sen­su­ous folds of drapes Of the young fresh grapes Of

Mor