The End

The artist still revered,
The authenticity dribbles
Time aches and wanes across our countenance
The consuming over, diaphanous

Days bleed with dying grass, starved to dust
The light strains, lanky, withered
What is left?
Art? Science? Matriculated and processed, ends met with progress stomped

All trapped in techno legislated fires of control
Stillborn thoughts
Rancid hatred across the bow
Patience hollow, time meaningless

Ignorant circles run foul, in their end lies release
Now, Madness


You may reach me at

Jason Holland is a hologram of an actual writer. He is the interdimensional representation of living earth here to tell tale of liberty of the human spirit. To bring an end to the age of reductionist materiality, superficial division, and egotism, and usher in the age of the idea, the age of reason, age of diplomacy, the age of spirit, the age of kindness and forgiveness.

A hologram pushing quantum vibrational fields into aligned flowing consciousness one quark at a time.

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