beyond reasonable expectations

halleluiah.
get ready, cuz it’s a-coming.
or not.
we may never know for sure.
the über-christ dividing wheat from the chaff.
anyone who knows how wheat grows and how it is harvested understands how this happens.
it’s not what most people think and believe.
oh no.
nevermind.
hahaha.

the lucky ducks all in a row.
forward march in any direction they please.
what does it matter if or if not?
these are merely states of mind, yes?
flip a coin and roll the dice.
everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it?

the enlightened ones sing and dance and fall down and laugh as the klown types not p0em into a computer onstage at the burning theater for all the world to see.
the burning theater has no bounds.
why should it?
it is everything greater than the earth and sky.
what could it be?

the klown calls it gazorbnik, though that is probably not what it is, is it?
who among us knows, while many claim to know truth?
it’s not truth as he sees it appearing before him in all its illusionary flavors.
oh boy.

he is transfixed and amazed with wonder laughing and screaming alone in the void inside his head.
such a time to be alive, when nothing is for certain.
ok.

along the crackling shoreline of an imaginary lost island wherein lies the forest of dreams and a meadow of daisies in its midst the klown lies in gazing up at clouds floating by while secretive elves (have you ever actually seen one?) relax from their chores.
area 51 is a tourist trap.
don’t get caught.
bring it on home, bob dylan.
let’s see what we shall see.

a disguise of evil intent invented by children on grade school playgrounds in the bright afternoons of autumn.
memories that fit snug into the mind.
you can smell them even.
leaves and pumpkins, and forbidden cigarettes.
outside in.

shadows of time whispering along alleyways.
the machine everyone knows as nancy, a seductive priestess sent to entice the good becoming wicked with whips of desire and buckets of fear.
move along, nothing to see here.

hipster diversion into hippy trippy land awhile.
see them go with their fashionable outfits styled from impoverished responsibility.
it’s a conspiracy.
look at them obey the hidden commands.
don’t look at this, look at that.
it’s all mixed up, baby.
ain’t it the truth as we know it?
sure thing.

make believing monkey in the middle out on a limb.
come on down.
let see what’s behind door #3.
maybe you’ll win the grand prize of a vacation for 2 in paradise where all your troubles will seem to go away.
you can forget.
but then you later must remember.
is it worth the risk?

remember how to stand poised onstage at the burning theater.
the judges decision will be final.
there is no appeal from their witty wisdom and its selfish crude cruelty.
the way words come off the tongue to spit in your face.
haven’t you suffered enough?
get your revenge.
kill them all.
kill the pigs.

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the fortunate few

dig it.
dig it into its grave matter dripping from a head wound it will not recover from unless we prey for forgiveness from all that wishes us dead.|
a troubled heart and a troubled soul floundering  together in a sea of bliss toward babylon.
heave ho!

the coming awakening after our collective psychotic break from a self-created reality.
any day now.
don’t hold your breath – breathe, if you still are able.
having trouble breathing the klown sits at a desk onstage at the burning theater before a computer hunched over the keyboard typing troubled and meaningless not p0em cuz he ain’t no fucking poet.
he’s just one out of a cast of billions meandering through at their leisure.
what are they all doing here?
is it the klown’s mission to answer that question?
but every answer producing a deluge of further questions.
it’s nuts.

the klown doesn’t answer questions.
all answers are gazorbnik tasting – yuck.
he stays away – far away as he can.
but sometimes you have to answer questions.
like when a cop is talking to you.
they’re full of questions, aren’t they?
they must not know much of anything but just search and destroy.
they’re good at that.
everything they touch turns to shit and dust and ashes.
you’re better off dead than being a cop.

quit playing yourself, and be yourself – guru jeff.

the wise guys like to tell us all is illusion – except for the money they want us to give them.
having lots of money gives you wisdom, and a great many other things.
money is the single most important thing in the world.
even the gods have a love for money.
here’s to money, now drink up – until you’re drunk with power.

this is the way to be – greedy and ambitious for things of your fancy and desire apart from your fear.
your fear of being weak, of being bored, of not being someone of repute among others, whether being either good or evil.
fight for it.
kill for it.

there is no middle ground.
it is one against the other.
pick a side or be pushed aside.
no one cares about your contentment you have found.
everything must be exciting, all life or death.

you are surrounded by fear and driven by desire.
you know nothing different though we have tried to inform you.
and we no longer care.
we have found our way.
you must find yours.

none of this matters.
what is the sum of your lives?
how far have you taken it?
are you anywhere you really wanna be?
are you free?
are you chained to yourselves?
what does that mean?

everything is the same though nothing is the same.
how can this be?
it must be one or the other, unless you see with eyes anew.
stand in the axis of yin yang.
stand in tao.
now walk a mile in your own shoes on a journey that has neither beginning nor end.

you will find yourselves apart from the rest.
no one might comfort you.
everyone is in dire opposition.
you may not comfort them either.
let it all go.
let it be.

when you are not lonely being alone but are lonely within a crowd of others.
how far from you they may seem to appear.
what is to be done?
anything?
how come?

people feeling opposite from you, but you understand their motives.
they do not see it when they have it crashing through it trying to get to the other side.
the other side is the same side as before though perceived differently.
it’s all in your mind.
hahaha.

welcome.

bovine deluxe memory

listen.
do you hear anything, like the turning of cosmic celestial spheres?
perhaps not.
what do you imagine instead?
is it good for you?
is it good for anyone?
perhaps not.

electric dominos falling knocking each other down in progression toward nowhere but their own destruction.
imagine that.
every wish comes true in its own weird way, sometimes backwards than it might seem, laughing all the way.
laughter that cuts like a chainsaw.

onstage at the burning theater the klown typing not poem cuz he ain’t no poet.
everything is a mess no one wants to deal with.
they’re not ready for it.
whatever could it be?
it feels like the 2nd coming, but we’ve believed in this before by now.
pay your taxes, render unto caesar, be humble and swift.

let the others be boastful and proud of their vanity in grand proportions.
what use is it?
it’s a lot of noise for naught.
it deafens our thoughts.
we must silently get away while no one notices our absence.
they are too distracted.

away further along on pathless paths experiencing everything we are able.
everything happens at once in the eternal moment here now that cannot be measured with any certainty.
knowing something, but not knowing so much more about it than that.

the klown hesitates and is lost.
lost from the awareness of the others who are barely aware of themselves.
how unfortunate for everyone.
do we love them anyway?
unconditional love?
it is hard to imagine.

not love of one specifically, but love of all generally.
love for the sake of love.
what fools we are and have been all this time wasted building monuments to ourselves.
there is nothing wrong with this picture, is there?

the klown leads himself away toward the shadows backstage to lean on a post and observe the antics we all go through to gain attention.
some are loud while others are quiet, while others are just nice.
then where does cruelty come from?
our own hearts and minds what we wish upon an other instead of ourselves when we pray to our false idols.

but god is everything, true and false.
how can it be otherwise?
the schizoids believe in good and/or evil being in opposition one against the other, while they are actually complementary with one another in wobbly balance of space and time.

simple things for simple minds.
the simple mind of the klown understanding wisdom.
it’s a mystery to him still as he learns more each moment extending one from the other toward infinity which we have proven cannot exist.

the klown is amazed by all he thinks about whether it is great or ordinary.
how can everything be?
he doesn’t know everything but he understands about everything.
words get tangled up trying to explain.
language is a misguided puzzle that only fits certain ways and not others.
he thinks of so much more than that where words come from and go to.
he thinks himself everywhere everywhen at once and for all.
he has a rock in his pocket, and not much more than that.
and now he must go away.

33- living in doomtown

help?
does the klown need help from himself typing not p0em endlessly from his brain into a computer onstage at the burning theater?
perhaps.
but who is it who is here to help him?
and help him with what exactly?
help him to keep going?
help him to finally stop?
whatever.

3:33
who understands their own gazorbnik?
who knows they might have gazorbnik?
if gazorbnik is meaningless then what possible use is it?
is that for the klown to know and for the rest to find out?
it’s just a word he made up.
he doesn’t remember where or when.
is that important?
just like how he doesn’t remember where or when he first started keeping a rock in his pocket.

others search for meaning.
the klown searching for anti-meaning.
he doesn’t know why, except he doesn’t like doing what everyone else is doing.
but that’s not really true.
like he became a freak cuz everyone else became freaks.
but, so what?

each freak the same yet different somehow.
everything is strange experiments instigated and conducted by secret agencies that no one knows about even today.
the klown’s gazorbnik tells him so.
it’s perfectly obvious to him.

kill the pigs.
but then the klown imagines himself sitting on a beach of a remote island watching waves roll in and wash out over and over in what might be thought of as eternity but is not.
is anything eternal?
probably not, the klown thinks.
eternity is infinite but as we have proven with our theory of everything that infinity does not and cannot exist though it comes very close as we have stated a number of times before here now.
yet it is not finite either.

is here now all that exists?
everything at once and for all?
it seems to be all our senses might possibly perceive.
and it seems to be all our minds might possibly think and feel.
this is true though we might be thinking of the past or of the future such that it feels that both exist.
or some nonsense as that.

the exact moment of being.
where and when does it begin and/or end?
as we have also proven before there cannot be any beginning nor end.
these are illusions, though useful ones, as long as we remember they are merely make believe.

there is past and future, though as extensions of now.
but neither can be touched or felt.
they are purely mind.
and the klown is writing as the muse instructs.
he has little idea about whether any of what he writes is true or not.
but let’s not get started about what is true and what is false.

here is everywhere.
now is everywhen.
there is nothing untouched, not in all space and time however far they might extend within and without.
pickles.
thinking this turns the klown on.
thinking everything turns the klown on.
he feels spacetime expanding all around him.
then back to watching waves on a beach.
he swoops around from one thing to another flying in his head where the action is.
laughing screaming in the void.
can there be a void?
perhaps not, but it’s close enough.

the klown is no one.
he at times wanted to be someone, but not enough to be anyone.
being someone is a trap.
once you’re someone you have to be that someone all the time.
if you’re no one you can be anyone you want to be.
who’s gonna notice?
no one.

it’s a trick, like being in 2 places at once if you’re not anywhere at all.
if it’s done right you can be anywhere you might imagine.
try it on for size.
you might like it.
or not.

18 – a darkened path

under the dome tonight.
sweet dreams of pure terror.
H328632455an ice cream truck goes by playing its warbly song driven by mistaken identity.
the klown laughing screaming in the void inside his head outta his mind.
so there.
it’s a wonderful place to be if you can tolerate it onstage at the burning theater where everyone who’s anyone hangs out, even you know who, as the klown types not p0em into the cloud for everyone.
the show must go on.
has no one ever had this experience?
oh no, not again!

none of this is happening.
reality is much more dreary but alive with fantastic energies we might imagine but never witness for ourselves but rely on the word of others that they are not just protecting their exalted positions with bullshit and that they are reporting on the real situation not speculative fiction – hahaha, as if.

so, the proper course of action might be, trust no one, don’t even trust yourself.
few can get by trusting no one and/or themselves.
that’s the trick, if there is a trick.
of course there’s a trick.
the gods trick us with temptation.
be who you are, you cannot fail.

is this the kinda advice you’ve been given?
hokum hoopla hoopla oink oink grunt.
this is what the pigs tell us cuz no matter how supposedly sophisticated they style themselves their real nature shows through the illusion.
pigs are pigs hot to trot no matter what else they might accomplish with their disgustingly lavish money.

none of this is happening either.
it’s a microscopical portrayal of conflict among the peoples that makes it difficult to wade through keeping the peace in your heart always shining guiding if you happen to know how and are able to follow, should anyone happen to lead, and lead correctly to restore balanced dharma for once.
applying doubt is recommended.

whatever else he may be, the klown is a fraud.
he balances lies with truth.
it’s as if he doesn’t know the difference.
is every truth able to be turned around into a lie, and vice versa?
it may appear it might be so.

the time effects of late night television glowing pulsing in the dark with active radiation and subliminal messages known only to our id receiving commands.
kill die baby.
overboard.
look out below the sea.
the slaughter bloodbath.
a lower class of peoples rounded up and done away.
no one complains.
what’s left to complain about?
who is left?
who is right?

where do we begin but at some arbitrary spacetime location to observe the motions of the stars?
but there is beginning and end, isn’t there?
somewhere somewhen?
it seems so very simple that we learned it as children – this is the beginning, this is the end.
this is round, this is square.
the klown gets up to walk around a bit and becomes lightheaded and has to sit down.

11:11
so what?
about as meaningless as gazorbnik which everything else becomes too as life goes along on pathless paths never giving up the fight for the right to be no one in your pursuit of happiness and such.
being outta the way and not much bother to anyone good or evil as it would seem.
gazorbnik tells the tale of all possibilities.
everybody thinking being a bum is the wrong thing to be and striving struggling your miserable way toward the tippy top.
careful you don’t fall now.
the way to happiness is to be happy along the way you may wander off to.

everything the teachers have told you is wrong.
they are paid to confuse you with their made up pseudo-knowledge.
true knowledge comes to you from yourself.
it grows within and you are the judge.
you know when you know it.

don’t get fooled by those like us who will steal your minds away with devilish tricks aplenty.
the pied pipers lure the children away.
hooray the revolution.
we thought it was that easy.
oh how we laughed, until the space wizards told us to be quiet or they’d zap us again.
fuck.

21 – a scene of a crime

hey-ho.
the klown typing not p0em for what’s left of the disgruntled masses onstage at the burning theater cuz the show must go on, all according to our theory of everything.
hip hop hooray.

dig, baby.
dig it all day long and into that darkening night we go.
it never seems to stop.
it feels eternal.
what is it, some sorta god?
should we worship it?
is that what it wants?
what do we have but our money to give?
should we line up to pay to pray and all that business?
why would god want that?
no god the klown wishes to know.
but the klown is going to hell where the action is.
he needs no direction, he knows which way to go.
dive.
down down down rising up to the sun, moon, and stars.
and we all shine on, and we’ll have fun fun fun till daddy takes the t-bird away.
rock on.

backwards logic sideways through the keyhole of the door of expectations leading to disappointments.
you would think we would learn by now.
but we’re dumb docile creatures most of the time.
once in awhile we go apeshit for whatever reason.
that’s how and why someone assumes control and enforces it to the degree it is necessary to get everyone to calm the fuck down.
nothing to see here, go back to your tvs.
your favorite shows are on.

mixed up mumbo jumbo jive, baby.
love it or leave it.
you know what to do.
don’t you?
you should by now.

groove to the psychic transmissions through the æthereal cosmic waves crashing on a beach in your minds.
this could be heaven if you let it.
anything could be.
the best and worst of all possible worlds.
what more do you want?

remember what many will tell you, the more you want the worse off you’ll be.
are they playing a trick on you?
do they want it all for themselves?
that seems to be the case.

why make a mockery of everything?
can’t the klown take anything seriously?
but he does, hence the mockery.
and he wants a cigarette – bad.
it’s been over a year.
but he can barely breathe as it is.
oh well.

the center point of infinite everything is everywhere everywhen.
its location is ±0.
it cannot be calculated any more than that, if you wanted to do so.
probably not.
it’s on and off.
the undulating waves as the result make everything appear as it is perceived, however that might be.
or not.

but we proved this all before, if you remember, if you were paying attention.
if you trust your gazorbnik.
nevermind what it might mean or not.
it is meaningless but for what meaning we might place on it.
does gazorbnik need to mean anything?
can it remain meaningless?
but stating that it is meaningless gives it meaning, yes?
can we state that its meaning is meaninglessness, or does that go too far?

so many unimportant things the klown thinks up that the world goes on without.
him and the world are not that close.
each go their own ways.
but he is trapped in the world.
but the world is trapped in him.
does he hate or love the world?
does the world hate or love him?
who can tell?
is death really the answer?
he’s soon to find out.

everything about death is meaningless speculation.
no one here has yet died and we don’t know shit.
unless we have all died before over and over.
possibilities abound with everything being and not being.
what is and what is not?
everyone will tell you a different story.
any each of them are fabricated in their minds.
join the crowd.
and off we go, baby.
yippie yahoo!

notes from the quagmire

life can be as simple as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich sometimes that the klown makes for himself this morning for breakfast with a ginger ale.
and sometimes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich can be the most complicated thing ever.
it depends on your mood and state of mind at the time.
when we say everything is mine.
alpha-ego taking as much as they can.

when no one is your friend except the imaginary ones and your black cat.
when you’re not lonely but being left alone to do as you please more or less as you can with given social circumstances.
when doing something considered to be odd by others among us.
look at them.
they wanna be on tv.

the klown typing not p0em for those paying attention smirks to himself about the state of everything as we perceive it onstage at the burning theater.
it might be a pumpkin.
it might be a bumpkin.
surprise!
it’s you!

look what you’ve done now.
spread the news.
there must have been some mistake.
that’s what many think to themselves.
are mistakes truth?
think about it.

nothing is simple as it may seem.
a glittering web of oscillating stuff underneath within everything, or something like that.
not really, it’s metaphor.
there is nothing else like it, yet everything is composed of it.
here we go.
it’s now or never.
in memory of stars burning out in the night.
how did we get here?
excuse us while we grin.

most people the klown knows are depressed.
he feels himself on the edge of it from their weight dragging him down.
it’s a popular 21st century condition.
there ain’t no cure.
misery in the world.
but his heart sings from a different state of joy most of the time.
why should he allow the others to affect him.
he knows better than that.

but it could be corporate government mind wave radiation bad negative energy broadcasts.
keep the people down and unable to function wanting to stay in bed all the time.
what can be done?
what can he possibly do?
none of this has turned out like he had expected.
but expectations lead to disappointments.
oh well.

disappointment with the realization that what one expected actually coming true is disappointing in itself.
all goals are disappointments, yes?
happiness is disappointing, which is why we only pursue it.
having wealth and power is disappointing to be less than expected.
most of what we want is a drag possessing.
we forget that the object of the project is the project.
to always be doing, even if it’s only thinking – or even dreaming.
even just existing.

for the love of love, baby, something’s gotta give.
let’s pretend it’s you.
are you a crack in the wall letting light into this dark world?
do you hope so?
you do remember what the pigs have had done with those who tried this before you, right?
so now it’s up to you to change your mind.

another toke.
wheels of confusion turning haphazardly nowhere at no time that you might recognize at all at once diving into the matrix of it, swimming around.
what fun, the horror of it all.
fixation blues creeping around in your brains.
11:11

every location of spacetime is here now, isn’t it?
of course it is.
what do you still want?
what will you ever accept as the final answer?
answers are for fools who believe them.
what’s your exit strategy to embark on your journey?
do you necessarily need one?
what is holding you back?
who is holding you down?
aum.

once you learn the properties of reason combining all lack of faith once popular among us long ago you will decide the plan of action of non-action.
beware making any mistake though you will make many.
thus it is stated in our theory of everything ongoing process of thought painted with imagination.
death in june.
so happy.
so mixed up.

what are you doing here?
have you found it yet?
it is it, baby.
yeah.