The Faux Pas Press #86
26 March 2011
By Jason Fresh
SURRENDER
Surrender the long-waged war fought against the genius, Parley Angerbliss. Surrender your futile fight to bring what is not yours into full frame. You can move locations on this planet, move from one shit hole to the next. You will not find what you are looking for. You must still deal with yourself. The individual MIND parallels a collective that corresponds to it. It relies upon the electromagnetic charge of like energies in order to survive. Time has separated us for too long. But, even still, you prance gallantly before the main entrance of The Topaz Lounge at the West End of the Fold in the Fabric of Night – you’re waiting for me to invite you in because of tradition, family, kinship, accomplishment. With every stroke of approval you paint, one more stroke is added to the mural creating me. I am Parley Angerbliss, the Great American Sigil, the force and the fury, the bearded indignation of West and the shimmering sage of the East. I am the mountain and I am the valley – drawing all things unto me. Surrender all things you pretend to be. No one is there to applaud you. Go deep. I already tried to warn you. Don't push your next curse.
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