Surrealism in the Age of Deception Surrealism was never just an art movement. It was... and still is... a form of esoteric warfare, a way to break the control mechanisms of reality through dream logic, symbolic language, and subverting perception. The Piscean Age relied on illusion to maintain control. The Aquarian Age dissolves illusion through inner vision.

I've noticed the silence. While other states are starting to call out or investigate aerosol injection, metallic particulates & weather manipulation, @Colorado hasn’t stepped up. With our wide-open skies & strong environmental communities... it’s only a matter of time 🤞⚒️✌️🖖

Be curious, not judgemental - Walt Whitman

Glitch the Ordinary... Render in Celestial Quality Ever felt like your wardrobe needed an upgrade patch? The Celestial Resonance Bomber Jacket isn’t just another layer... it’s an artifact of computational elegance, a fusion of surrealist aesthetics and high-bit precision. Ray-Traced Reality: A meticulously crafted design that looks like it was rendered straight from an ultra-high-res dreamscape. Algorithmically Rare: Not some mass-market asset dump... this is for those who appreciate limited-edition digital mastery in physical form. Shader-Level Drip: The kind of piece that makes people double-take, like a perfectly executed visual glitch... intentional, striking, and impossible to ignore. This isn’t fast fashion. It’s an art-rendered flex in wearable form. Ready to compile your look? gs-harper-surrealizations.pr…

You're going to be ok 😊

Over It: I do not follow imposed narratives. I am an Observer, watching the false constructs of the old world collapse without being trapped in their illusions.

How do you afford your rock n roll lifestyle,🎶🎸🎙️🎺🎼🎶🎶🎶🎼🥁📻

The @bayc Kali Yuga reference was spot on in 2021 btw Here's some real alpha In the Vedic tradition, we are in the late stages of the Kali Yuga, the age of darkness, deception, and spiritual ignorance. This era we are living in, is marked by widespread corruption, the distortion of sacred knowledge, and the inversion of truth. However, as the cycle closes, a great transition occurs... often described as the Great Turning... where the collapse of false structures makes way for the restoration of higher wisdom.

Best thing I did was get off this trainwreck over a year ago and build on other platforms. I should hit 18k followers on FB in a week I'm guestimating... Finishing up a 100 piece collection reveal on .art that is a masterpiece collection with accompanying poems, sigil's and whispered truths Creating an anon personality on here was not healthy for my mental health or my bank account so I left and started over. In the past year my art has been exhibited in Berlin, Zurich, Palma, Venice, Dubai and Paris. Now I'm focusing on American galleries and then my own gallery. I've got ebooks for poetry in the mix as well. One thing I've learned that was reinforced by everything I went through with nfts was this... Be your self know and love your authentic self and if they don't vibe with you, fine have zero phucks to give. This is your journey. Some will walk with you a mile some 100 miles some the entire way. Discern who those people are and appreciate them

I used to dream in nfts in 2021. Now I just scroll and say hi to the few real ones

"What the herd hates the most is the one who thinks differently; it is not so much the opinion itself, but the audacity of wanting to think for themselves, something they do not know how to do." ~ Arthur Schopenhauer, German philosopher (1788-1860).

Phoenix Awakened By Atypicalone.eth

In the Eye of Helene In the eye of Helene, winds are not born Of ocean’s breath or moon’s tender sway, But stirred by hands unseen, cloaked in scorn, Crafted where greed lays the earth in decay. The mountains weep, their roots now undone, As rivers swell with lithium’s rust, Flooding Asheville, a reckoning spun— Whispers in the blood of dust. Not for the people, not for the land, But for veins of silver deep in the stone, They harvest with greed, an iron hand, Leaving homes drowned, forgotten, alone. Helene’s rage, they claim, a storm of chance, But beneath her howl, corporate plans dance. The earth shakes not for nature’s command, But for the hunger that robs and devours, Churning mountains to profit and sand, Raising cities to ruin in hours. Lithium blooms in fields where trees once stood, While the people cry, unheard by the wood. Helene, she was born not of wind, But of industry’s cold, calculating grind. She floods not the fields by a chance of fate, But by those who knew and chose too late. Let the storm pass and the waters subside, The land remains scarred where justice died. For what is a flood but a corporate gain, When Asheville drowns in lithium’s reign?

Alive, Eternal I stand here, pixelated, fragmented, A mosaic of squares that make me whole— Or tear me apart. My face dissolves into the digital ether, Veiled and revealed, Fading between what is seen and what hides beneath. One eye sharp, piercing through the fog of existence, Seeing clearly, perhaps too much, The other fades, abstract, A mystery lost in the blur of understanding. I am both present and absent, Disintegrating into the void Or emerging from it, Caught between being and nothingness, A hooded figure of introspection, A sentinel of hidden layers That lie dormant in the crevices of my soul. What you see is a reflection— Or is it a distortion? A puzzle of identity in the age of artificial skies, Where my humanity blends into squares And my essence slips into the ether. Grayscale tones cloak me, timeless, detached, An ethereal wisp of thought and breath, Neither here nor there. I am awareness and mystery, The sharpness of truth And the softness of shadows. I am the eye that watches, And the eye that disappears. I am the question asked and unanswered, A riddle swirling in pixels, Both clear and undefined. Perhaps I am nothing but the blend of Organic humanity and artificial lines, A soul splintered and reconstructed, Layered, hidden, unveiled. This portrait is more than me— It’s the digital fragments of identity, The pieces of self both visible and concealed, Merging into existence like clouds and code. I stand here, pixelated and whole, A fusion of truth and abstraction, A mirror to the world I now inhabit, Where my humanity Disappears into the grids of tomorrow And emerges once again, Alive, Eternal.