we are not alone

if we think and imagine something else.
disconnect from this reality.
let it crash and burn for all we care about it.
this has gone on long enough since the earliest of histories and probably long before that.
the ongoing brutality of it.
those who actively participate in it along with those who passively condone it.
damn them to heck.
while we sing and dance.
while we fall down.
while we laugh.

while we watch and wait for critical mass to take effect from individual efforts worldwide.
we know who we are.
it takes one to know one.
in ever-changing tenuous webs of communications.
the mind shift/ship, baby.

but we’re up against a wall of stubborn resistance to anything that changes as we have been up against it always.
they’re heavily invested in things as they are and trying to convince us it is the way things ought to be.
the gods ordain.
fuck their gods.

yes, we are mad.
does it matter what they diagnose us as being when we will not cooperate in their schemes?
it is divine madness.
we are fools in love with everything while others contemplate nothing.
questions are our answers.
they lead us into the reaches of infinity and beyond in our heads outta our minds and such.
they lead us to everything that possibly could be as we might imagine it being.
our limited capacity brains stuck in ruts of hardwired conceptual frameworks of logical intensity.
so much is missing we don’t even know about cuz it’s unimaginable to our programmed ways of thinking.
does that mean it is not?
we doubt that.

some people are programmed to rule the world while others to dream it.
we are them.
dreams within dreams within dreams within dreams…
nothing but dreams.
who can prove us wrong?
they are only a dream.

an infinity of dreams reflecting in a maze of mirrors.
a play of light and shadow splintered and fractured and warped and otherwise distorted beyond recognition of ourselves in the images appearing in a spectacle of itself.
we gaze into infinity until it disappears into infinitesimality of size and/or distance beyond our even enhanced ability to perceive.
all as if.

he grills a cheese sandwich.
another toke.
another piece of nicotine gum.
sequential loops of universes like a chain of DNA.
on/off.
a continuum of universes.
1 > infinity.

he can see it yet he can’t describe it.
it is it.
a singular point of 0 dimension.
a spark of possibility in the face of nothingness igniting its potentiality into actuality.
a little trick we learned in the navy.
spies in his teeth.
what little they might discover listening to his thinking.
they quickly realize he is an idiot knowing knothing.
but he is tied into a knot to devise a way out.
resistance is futile, they mock him.
we shall see.

he is becoming tired.
time for sleep soon.
like now.

he awakens, tired.
cigarette.
back to sleep.

he awakens again.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
he continues.
we find meaning in everything though it does not necessarily need to have any.
it communicates to us its existence existing with us existing.
most of this meaning is nonverbalwise but of intuition absorbing through our experiences of it.
it’s a bit difficult to explain to anyone who does not share this communication.
we seem like babbling idiots.
he’s used up most of the words he knows.
he repeats himself.
spiraling cycles of logical spirographic reasoning never quite repeating the same ever.
as a spaceship hovers nearby he ponders the meaninglessness of gazorbnik and feeling himself being set free of mind and spirit.
soaring through thoughts that come to mind in the moment eternal (as we surmise).
we cannot think about beginning ending without creating infinite regress of some sort.
creating something from nothing.
on/off blinking particles in happenstance ordered series generating patterns of shape and form into existence.
there needs to be no motion but just the appearance of motion.
everything stays perfectly still.
the first is the i am.
nothing can be without energy.
how does it communicate its existence if in fact it has any?
vibrations of energized particles that stimulate others and on and on, etc.
action/reaction/non-action.
it all comes out in the wash.
if everything is nothing therefore nothing is everything.
around around that thing goes wheels turning.
those who argue nothing know nothing.
we argue everything.
there is at least the i am.
what the i am is or is not is determined by experience of exploring discovering learning understanding.
the process of this is still ongoing and may be forever – or not.
but what comes to an ending also comes to a beginning.
imagine that in a hat.

the universes created and creating over and over again with different possibilities following the same as waves are differently the same crashing on a beach somewhere.
the universes not as mechanical machines but as living beings.
birth life death.
but living beings as mechanical machines.
either way whatever.

and a living mechanical god.
god for one and god for all.
infinite meaning.
but we cannot comprehend that so we use metaphors and symbols and such to explain it to ourselves such it does have meaning to each of us differently than others.
and we fight about it to the death.
silly monkeys.
planet of the apes.
we are the images of god yet we look into the mirror at ourselves to paint portraits of this god exactly like us.
a god for the masses to believe to comfort them in all their troubled lives.
and the higher we climb up the snakes and ladders hierarchical social economic political structure toward the tippy top the closer we are to this ape god.
the ups and downs and ins and outs.
we never wanted to participate in any of that as much as we could get away with it.
we have too many doubts.
we are lazy.
we want everything for nothing.
and now we have nothing but everything.
flip a coin into a fountain and make a wish come true as it spins in the air undecided.
probability to the nth power.
we remain uncertain as it should be.
a surprise around the next bend in the moment now.

speaking with quiet words in a shouting world.
a calm outlook of inner contentment.
everything goes our way the more we renounce as being meaningless.
try it on for size.
thrown into a world of chaos we learn to order in specific ways by nature and nurture and indoctrination until we are trapped in it with no way out.
no way out but within.
within our thinking.
within our being.
back to the i am.
back to it.

meanwhile back in the real world he imagines sitting before the computer gazing out the window at a sunny day in the trailer park with not much going on but the vibrations of everything.
everything happens once, it can happen again.
that’s our theory.
ongoing on/off thing of a singularity as it is now proposed as being in the beginning exploding into infinity to diffuse cooling becoming 0.
0/1.
if it is really that simple which it could very well be and to our way of thinking it ought to be simple to begin with.
simplicity becoming infinite complexity at once.
everything on.
let there be existence.
let there be a spacetime continuum between existing and not existing.
the i am commands and it is so.

free to think as we please to do nothing but thinking of whatever comes to mind.
rearranging information.
shuffle the cards and deal another hand.
this game of solitaire played against chance and fate.
this game of make believe.
we choose to follow its rules of our own free will to amuse ourselves awhile though many of us cheat.
but to cheat there must be rules.
it’s a game we use to trick ourselves into believing reality.
to believe ourselves being these mortal souls to be extinguished as we return to ourselves awakening into our imaginary state of existing and shaking our “heads”.
but we are hooked on the excitement of it and can’t help playing it again.
spin the wheels of fortune.
let’s see where we land.

on an island within the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
all of us clamoring together about whatever from what gods to believe if any to what sports teams to support and such if any.
become silent observing.
typing out a report to the committee in the form of a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet.
there probably is no such committee.
the agency of our creating sustaining destroying the world as we see fit into jumbled ordered chaos as we seek perfection in each our separate ways and means toward it pursuing happiness in this best and worst of all possible worlds all rolled into one.
the terrifying and the delightful without sometimes being able to tell the difference.
a matter of perspective relative to the observer.
the middle path as our gyroscope we wander along on pathless paths experiencing whatever fate sends our way.
what more could we ask for?
this is perfect.

here now.
cow.
moo.

the ego vehicle of ourselves touring this world of such adventures we encounter.
the energy of our imaginary being focused into actual reality.
we perform our lives onstage in the burning theater to general indifference from the scattered audience but for the enjoyment we ourselves are experiencing.
so many other possibilities.
a golden dragon shitting a singularity to hatch and become the spacetime universe as we know it.
we awaken in a world readymade for us.
what the fuck?
answering that question still eludes us trailing further questions in its wake leading us onward toward our eventual happiness no one knows where or when it might be but we have our theories about it all of which we include in with our theory of everything despite and because how they contradict one another.
we think too much.

the answer is here or there or everywhere they all each proclaim from their particular perspectives of reality as they know it and it makes sense to them somehow.
to each their own truth except for the ones who insist their truth is for all.
the belligerent fuckers needing to force others to believe.
and yadda yadda yadda about that.
but we attempt to learn and understand everything within our experience that we believe has meaning to us as we think about it and think about it again always with different results.
he has a rock in his pocket.

he tries to have neither faith nor doubt.
he tries to have a mind wide clear of the meaning and value of duality.
let the others wrestle with those problems as they will deciding who is right and who is wrong such that reward and punishment might be measured out.
he laughs at them not seeming to realize the joke in that.
but they will think as they will.
they remain ignorant of the truth of gazorbnik.
we must inform them by any means necessary if we must lie, cheat and steal and murder.
that seems to be how it’s done with them as our example.

and la-dee-da.
aren’t we something special?
we have everything figured out.
hahaha.
but as much as we know about it no one else does either.
we are not alone.

:=:=:=:

another day begins or whatever.
awakening.
he comes to the café.
mocha, orange juice.
thinking about everything changing around him seeming somewhat the same throughout his experience of it.
a matter of perception which world he chooses to see.
everything that exists within this finite universe of beginning ending everywhere everywhen.
the same point being both beginning and ending.
again, a matter of perception which we decide it to be, as it is all things otherwise.
he yawns.
he’s tired most of the time.
he yawns again.
go home and take a nap maybe.

no clouds.
hot in the sun already out on the patio smoking.
to the degree of remembering being alone at last away from crazy people who don’t seem to know it about themselves acting the same as everyone acting the same as them is how the collective groupthink thing of it goes on and on toward oblivion in infinitesimal increments unseen by the naked eye closed for repairs.
and aliens among us anywhere.

home.
toke.
glazed donut.
a cigarette.

happy go lucky outlook.
nothing can do us no harm.
we’re not here.
manic depression is a frustrating mess.
he just doesn’t know.
he wants to take a nap but his brain won’t stop.
hop on pop.
hot dog with everything.

another cigarette.
sparkly rainbows.
prancing unicorns.
and the circus comes to town.
what fun we all will have if those clowns just leave us alone.
we feel a warm tingling in our soul.
makes us happy, makes us go.
it’s hot outside.
summer’s coming.
everything composed of singing strings.
length and nothing else.
composed of 0 dimension points.
oh/off.
everything vibrating energies in harmonic cacophony of order and chaos.
engines of divine design incorporated into the machine.
it must be this way appearing to exist without existing, so there’s no problem there.
poised constantly on the edge of mutual self-annihilation of all duality.
the blink of an eye.
it’s all in our heads interpreting meaning.
archetypes hardwired into our neurologic matrix thing.
we can’t help but to think like we think.
trapped under the spell of the knowledge of good and evil type shit.
too bad for us until we transcend all that business.
when we see the world as it is without.

holy glory to us.
why not?
who are we, chopped liver?
we endure their bullshit and then we are cast aside?
nuts to that.
where’s the complaint department?
what forms do we need to fill out?
we’ll raise hell if we need to.
there will be justice for once.
this scam they got telling us god is on their side not ours.
their side of greed and power.
what kinda god is that?
is god an idiot?
refuse.
resist.
rise above.

cracks in the wall.
they cannot keep it up forever.
we are forever.
we will see the death fall of their pig civilization once and for all.
we will dance and piss on their fallen rotting corpses.
we will be rid of them and their sick twisted skewed sense of reality based on coldhearted logic and reason that brings them profit from the earth’s destruction without a thought about it.
we will need do nothing but watch and wait for them to destroy their own artificial creation with their self-absorbed stupidity and arrogant ignorance of the sovereign power and will of nature that does not heed any appeals by human or their gods alike to cease and desist creating sustaining destroying with no regard for their damned sacred monuments to their vanity and pride.

open eyed wonder of it.
it and only it.
it is it.
only few and far between understand this.
you’re probably not one of them.
give up.
we don’t need you hanging around.
don’t you have anything better to do?
you annoy us.
go away.
we are on our own in this that is.
no one is ready for it.
they are busy with all the drama and excitement of their fucked up world.
we can only stand aside and marvel at their useless meaningless antics they feel are the important stuff of life.
but it is death they worship without knowing but it is obvious to those of us who understand.
such clowns and fools they are.
how can they be so oblivious to themselves?
how can they remain blinded?
it doesn’t take much to realize.
information is readily available and accessible that even dull dolts like ourselves might fathom and understand.

everything mixing all together to become what is shaped by our will only most do not control or even know their will as it is possessed by forces within and without themselves bewildered.
we fly through it twisting turning along the narrow pathless paths.
we do not need to know where they might lead as we are cool wherever we are which is usually nowhere (now here) and all that jazz and so on.
we are free to ourselves and expensive to everyone else.
we have done nothing.
there is nothing we need to do but be lazy unproductive useless layabouts wanting to be left the fuck alone cuz they have nothing for us of all they have stolen and possess and control.
what riches will they offer us?
what trinkets and gizmos?
what goats and camels?
we have everything of it all in our heads stuck up our ass popping out as our heads again outta our minds to the nth degree of uncertainty tossing words around as if they mean anything which they mean everything if we learn the trick of it and then some kind or another as it may be or not.
he sits out on the patio at the café to smoke.
he considers himself fortunate with all the idiot shit he does to be in the position he’s in now eating cake and having it too with his baby after all the trouble and turmoil he brings upon himself from when he was young and stupid as is everyone mostly and they die that way even being older worshipping their departed youth.

everything is a great banana in space.
the universe is damned.
he coughs and hacks up a mouthful of phlegm.
no blood.
he wonders about the moon sometimes.
is it real?
is it not?
does it matter?
he’s tired of all that speculation.
he doesn’t care if what appears to him is illusion.
what does it change about anything?
maybe he’ll figure that shit out someday – or not.
what difference does it make?
it makes no difference to his contentment he feels mostly all the time but for the times of anxious dread which anyone with a brain must feel about the world as is.

he thinks about paradise heaven on earth in the hereafter as if it may happen of its own accord without needing some long awaited miracle of god but us coming to our senses and living life as if it were true and real in the aftermath of this world crashing and burning to allow the earth once more to grow thriving healing from our violent abuse upon it and we are free from the world’s greedy grip.
but how will this ever happen without a transformation within ourselves?
new creatures on the face of the earth.
really?
who’s fooling who?
no, we must each find our own way through it as this world presently is and ever will be.
the individual is supreme if we might find the ground upon which to make a stand in our own minds.
forget the rest of it.
forget the ways of the world.
remember.
invent.
become.

the ideal of perfection and the destruction and waste caused by those pursuing it with their limited comprehension of what it means in its entirety.
the dullards of religion and science both misunderstanding that perfection entails imperfection.
and they laugh and shake their stupid heads at the idea they perceive as absurd contradiction as they are too coarse to understand such subtle simplicity but instead try to manufacture some twisted representation of it that always falls short of their desired expectations.
silly fools.
they have minds like monkeys.
give them a banana.
their perfection of order making the presence of disorder that much more glaring whereas if they allowed the two to find their balance together then actual perfection could be perceived but we doubt it that they are intelligent enough to come realize what they consider utter misguided madness.
poor fools.

we are tired of their world.
we are tired of them.
they are fed up with us as well.
we are unproductive reluctant citizens – a high crime in their competitive world of greed.
everyone must be forced to participate like it or not.
no room for any leeway or allowance for anyone different.
and they tighten their control to more narrow definitions of who is worthy.
fuck them.
fuck the crummy jobs they want us to perform because they don’t wanna get their own hands dirty.
if you want it done right, do it yourself, fuckers.
we’ll sit in the shade with our lemonade.
and the philosophy and science and arts of the leisured class has nothing to do with us.
where are we in it besides being degraded as ignorant buffoons too stupid to be able to understand their high intellectual hoopla oink oink to be delegated to hard labor to support their sorry ass?
we understand our own simple ways.
we endure.
we will inherit the earth they ravage for all their greed desires and demands.
sigh.

meanwhile he comes home imagining sitting before the computer.
a toke.
a cigarette.
his baby watching her tv.
happy is the life.
typing out a not poem about our theory of everything.
but not without worry and concern.
it is the human experience.
the lowest common denominator.
desire and fear.
our motives for acting reacting non-acting.
we fear the actions of others.
one never knows what those crazy people might do next.
this insane asylum world.

the usual dada of normal noise going on we are tempted to attempt to attain an assault on the beaches of godhead.
search and destroy.
we will dance in the streets naked if we want to though others may have different opinions about it.
the revolution is here though it ain’t gonna do no good.
we’ve been here before and it always goes down the wrong road singing revolution songs from the hit parade.
scrubbing pots and pans.
the same scam as always and the forces of evil set against us.
we fall again.
we are defeated to our fate crossways from here to eternity.
we are forced to surrender to their victory once more.
let them rejoice now.
there will come a day when everything will be different.
up will be down.
in will be out.

the clocks are all wrong.
the moment cannot be measured.
it lasts an infinitesimal instant or eternity whichever comes first.
count to one.
it’ll take forever.
1 > infinity.
one is completion, infinity is boundless.
infinity has no number.
it has no name besides x.
x, the changing variable of the eternal equation calculated to the furthest rational point before it goes coo-coo for coco puffs with no direction home.

easy breezy.
wind in our hair without a care.
we ride on the roller coaster ride between heaven and hell ringing a bell as part of the experiment conducted by secret agencies hidden in the closet from when we were afraid of the dark but soon to become friends with it.

sitting in the warm sun becoming hot thinking about everything we might imagine thinking as we are able to becoming semi-confused by our irrationalogic gazorbniking nature toward wilder realms of imagination.
he needs a hard nap when he gets home.

mixed up about it.
it is it.
twist it around your little finger.
make it up as we go along the way of it.
something could happen or not.
something wonderfully wonderful at any given time day or night.
love it or lump it.
no sacrifice is too great.
we love to watch.
as seen on tv.
break it up.
become what you normally would not in the land time forgot.

the world as insane asylum.
this is where we come if we don’t follow the line of the universal order.
surrender to the cosmic law and we will be free.
he’s tasted that freedom and found it wanting and too demanding.
he wanted it all for nothing.
he wanted to play all day.
and we brought him here to it.
this tenuous balance out of balance where everything could go wrong or right.
it can be such a fright.
golden tickets to heaven for sale on a corner on easy street.
the place is a mess.
every kind and denomination are here for salvation.
and the straight A+ students who try their damnedest.
and those who lag behind.
and those who want nothing.
out of the muck and mire up to the lotus blossom in the sun floating on calm waters.
the reward if we work for it.
but we are lazy and couldn’t care less.
we’re in through the backdoor.
we have ringside sets for the greatest show on earth.
the end of history.

we think upon everything in spiraling cycles of energy radiating everywhere everywhen here now.
we think upon the beginning and the end – alpha/omega.
we think upon no beginning and no end.
we think upon ourselves in the exact middle of it.
why, o’ why?
cuz there ain’t nothing else happening.
we like things that happen rather than boring eternal bliss consciousness death.
we’re happening living creatures happy as can be under the circumstances of continual impending doom.
we are nothing to the others seeking that path to enlightenment.
they are told to ignore everything – to forget.
that is their heaven.
coffee and a chocolate muffin.
a toke.
a cigarette.

he checks the lottery ticket and he’s a loser again.
material concerns in a material world.
he’s loving every moment of it.
he plugs the phone in to charge.
the never ending details.
sitting around doing nothing except what needs to be done.
what would he rather be doing?
he can’t think of anything except the café is almost open and he’ll probably go there.

maybe if he cared at all before he’d be somewhere different now probably maybe on his way to heaven driving across the desert with a dog in the back seat wind with in his hair.
but his life now with all its mixed regrets and such is the life for him.
he’s gotten the most from it as he’s gonna get.
this is god’s plan.
all for the glory of god that tells us to do what it says not what it does.
which version of god should we believe?
should we believe no god?
but god seems to be a part of our thinking no matter what else we might decide.
we each have something we hold above all everything else.
that thing that loves us as we love it.
god loves us as it loves itself.
countless reflections in the maze of mirrors causally cast about anywhere anywhen into anything.
the drunken farmer sowing seeds.
god drunk on its blissed out consciousness.
not a care one way or another only needing its creatures to love it singing its praises for all eternity.
he craves a pizza.
maybe he’ll brave the world to go get one.
he thinks about there being no truth.
true/false duality in our heads.

energies from the sky.
energies from the earth.
we receive our daily bread by the grace of god in its own self-interest having us existing to worship it otherwise we don’t receive shit or not.
whatever way it comes and goes we are stuck with it in our sweet short mortal lives powerless except to surrender.
always surrender.
that’s all anyone tells us to do.
we’re too rude and crude to be in their polite company with them smiling all the time while plotting their revenge.
he’s been there and done that.
he couldn’t get out but by a leap of faith and doubt falling falling into the world below of beggars and thieves and other social outcasts him being among them.
this is where when he finds himself here now much too late to want to become anyone else but than whoever he might be who he’s not quite sure he knows out of all who’s in his head driving him outta his mind with the constant noise of talking all at once above the shouting of the others becoming louder and louder.
but he finds simple peace in it writing as he thinks as he writes in delusional fantasies being mad in a mad world where we compete for attention of others doing the same with what tricks we have picked up along the way to impress those who hold themselves to be our betters.

the cosmic scheme of everything we set ourselves to calculate how and why.
those who claim it is found within.
those who claim it is found without.
without is within as within is without.
the answer is a riddle with us in the middle learning how to become gods.
to surrender to the mastery of the self in disciplined control.
he fucked that up and remains some scatterbrained idiot as the result.
no prize for him as he joins the other losers on the bench being told to keep outta the way of those who know what they’re doing.
he does everything wrong.
he doesn’t know about heaven and he takes his chances to see if there’s truth in hell.
such a waste of his time.

sitting in the café at a table by the window along on the highway outta town watching the cars and such drive by.
he wonders about everything and what it might turn into next always in the process of changing as he gets it and doesn’t get it at once and for all being doomed here in a world of little to no consequence.
it’s bright out.
the sun in all its living glory.
while many live in shame others have made them feel who have made themselves in charge taking command becuz for no other reason than that they could.
and he wonders about this usurping of power and authority stolen by the crafty becuz it’s there to be taken.
nothing is forbidden, everything is permitted.
we forget about that being the origin of this world as it is.

he wants only simple comfort unbothered by the nonsense of the others to be sitting lazily about while they slave at their complicated lives entangled together.
he hasn’t a clue what to do.
he knows not what he does.
but being aware of his ignorance he comes to understanding of sorts.
he knows all about the error of his ways having been informed by his betters who know better.
he knows the consequences of failing to become enlightened to their satisfaction.
but he has his own way.
the way of utter nonsense which seems to confuse them.
they becomes speechless blinking with blank expression at his utterances contrary to the facts and figures of their reasoning.
and why shouldn’t we all get along together more or less enough that we at least do as little harm as we might get away with?
is that too much to ask?
apparently so it would seem.
wars and rumors of wars and on and on like that instead.

he comes home.
he lights another cigarette.
babbling on and on as is his fashion doing no one any good even himself but for the enjoyment he gets out of it in the moment making shit up in the face of impending disaster coming if he’s not careful if the gods decide that will be his fate no matter what.
he may wish it to be true if he keeps thinking about it imagining what it might be when it happens.
there’s so much that could fuck up.
but he counts on gods protecting fools though he may be a cat who used up his 9 lives.
whatever whenever.

he pets the kitty.
another toke.
another cigarette.
triscuits and peanut butter.
ideas as old as the hills expressed in various ways by certain individuals along the way to spread and become critical mass within the collective which withers away like skin off a snake in the grass.
have patience.
rome wasn’t destroyed in a day.
in fact (&/or fiction) it is still living today – thriving.
spread the word.
the word is gazorbnik.
a masterpiece of madness.
or make it up for yourself.

dance, everybody, dance

halleluiah.
the gates open wide.
we exit stage left none too soon.
the uniform patrol arrives soon after looking for the deviant among us.
those who have gone astray from the master plan.
disharmony in our heads that will not fit into their ideal perfection.
we must be cast out.
down and out on easy street.
who would have thought we’d feel so complete?
but everything comes and goes as should be obvious to everyone but many pretend it’s otherwise.
slaves building pyramids in the sand.
there can be no above if there is no below.
another thing that should be obvious.
put pieces together every which way until we come to some understanding about it.
it is/is not it.
take it for another spin around the bend and over the hills and far away.
think about it while we go quite mad.
it is what appears to be.
what appears to be is determined by our individual sense of perception against the lowest common denominator collective will manipulated by those in positions of wealth and power.
some perceive more.
some perceive less.
and so on.

their schemes have always been devious.
scarcity and self-interest is their philosophy.
they devastate one place and move on to another.
wherever there’s $$$ to be made.
another promised land to conquer and enslave.
but we have our peace amid the turmoil around us.
an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
the threats of almighty god cannot change it otherwise.
people is people.

we ignore the hoopla whatnot of everything these crazy apes get themselves into for our own self-interest watching them drive themselves outta their minds with all they do.
it’s a circus game of winners and losers all or nothing prize.
no excuses, no exceptions.
you either make it or you don’t with whatever you got.
grab all that you can while it’s there to be grabbed if you can get it.
weasel your way into it somehow whatever you can do that might amuse the masters who are always looking down watching.
total subjugation of humanity.
total economic control over every aspect of our lives.
it all skews a bit sideways.

baby, we were born to run.
into silences of thought crashing through forgotten realities remembered now and again as they come and go from our minds.
there is nothing to it.
run for it.
the pursuit of happiness as fast as we can.
let’s go.
we sit in a meadow of daisies in the sun in the midst of the forest of dreams on the island where it’s rumored a monster lives.
we discuss among ourselves everything we might happen to think about, like tree frogs which none of us knows too much about cuz we’re not that interested besides glancing at cute colorful photos of them poised on a branch that becomes rather ordinary after a while seeing dozens of such.
tree frog overkill.

sitting at the counter in the diner scribbling a not poem about our theory of everything which seems in disarray but only to those who expect everything in rationalogic order which in part everything is and is not.
for all order there is disorder.
it stands to reason.
and they are not separate divided apart but intermingled each shadowing the other such that they become indistinguishable parts of a greater whole which is the gestalt of everything to become a living thinking experiencing organism that has to shit as well as eat and the rest of it.
to place value on one thing and not another is folly we often fall into judging this from that from the other thing on and on spinning the wheels of the machine creating sustaining destroying transforming itself into itself becoming a dragonfly flying away to mate and die and decay into the earth feeding a myriad of organisms continuing life unending.

he knows very little.
he understands much more.
he is not one to be much concerned with many details he leaves it to others to obsess over but ponders glittering generalities of everything altogether at once.
strings in a web connecting the dots woven vibrating wavelength into shape and form of some measure of symmetry thing going on into states of bliss we might experience if we are tuned into it now and then as the mood of the moment allows us to be as guru jeff has instructed us before his sudden departing when we decided we must kill him to perceive through the veils of spacetime parting for us to reveal a reality seeming at first unreal derealized madness until we become accustom to it adjusting ourselves accordingly.

he chews some nicotine gum wanting a cigarette as he farts wiping his nose with his sleeve realizing he needs to poop.
human is as human does.
nothing as virtual stuff potentially existing as everything becoming as it relates to us standing in line at the supermarket checkout giggling to ourselves at the absurdity of it rationalogic cannot explain why this and why not that or the other thing, etc.
ration.
finite.
scarcity.
infinity beyond its grasp forever, according to our theory of everything.
but there is no such thing as infinity except in our intuitive imaginations.
the bitter taste of the gum.
but he likes bitter.

birth life death.
creating sustaining destroying.
transforming.
away we go on and on.
energy wave patterns filling the void.
what we think, say and do changing the world.
rationalogic can’t see the forest for the trees which it measures by the board foot.
rationalogic isn’t the end all of everything.
it describes the mechanics of everything but has no sense of the living life of everything.
irrationalogic, gazorbnik, is needed to further perceive and understand what cannot be calculated by rationalogic.
it hasn’t the depth to reach the spiritual nature of everything but only deals with the physical surface of reality as it appears to ourselves in the state we’re in.
gazorbnik has no problem with rationalogic within its limited scope, but rationalogic has a major problem with gazorbnik and all it categorizes as irrational.
it’s a no win situation with them.
whatever.

we are not in opposition to rationalogic except insofar as it is opposition to us enough to feel we need to be eradicated by any means that might prove necessary to their way of thinking about their master plan to transform the world into earthly paradise for themselves.
but we they shall always have with them.
we are flukes of the universe – random inexplicable glitches of the main program.
their ideals of perfection they attempt to mimic and manufacture.
it’s all death eternal toward oblivion.
dead as a pyramid of stone with a corpse inside it for good measure.
but such it must be like this between us for everything to be everything which perhaps it is not so.
but for all yin there is yang and action/reaction thing.
and inaction is action.
and inaction is reaction.
within yin is yang.
within yang is yin.
within all is tao.
the answer is a riddle.
monkey in the middle.
arf.

as we found out, nothing is real.
everything is nothing but therefore nothing is everything and we have turned ourselves around full cycle.
there is what appears to be.
what exactly that might be or not cannot be known for sure.
we may doubt whether or not it actually is.
is this a problem for anyone?
and we may ask if everything is illusion of the mind then why can we not mold it the way we would desire?
for himself he already has this covered by feeling he does live in a world he would and does desire.
the best and worst of all possible worlds.
he enjoys the fuck outta it – even the scary parts like right now a couple of cars shooting at each other driving by the café where he’s at now and shit like that.

there are so many possibilities he can think of.
think logically, logic man insists.
logic never fails as it swallows its tail spiraling toward its self-annihilation.
all is true.
all is false.
all is along on a continuum between.
how simple can it be?
perhaps too simple?
fuzzy wuzzy.
now there’s nothing but police outside and tv news crews.
he didn’t see nothing.
everyone does what they do even if it’s doing nothing.
it’s all alright as it’s supposed to be cuz it is what it is and if it is supposed to be something else then it would be something else, right?
maybe.
or not.
we cannot be sure about anything.
nope.

he is not as confused as he might seem to be or if he is he is happily confused.
confusion leads us to realization.
do what thou wilt and all that jazz.
be here now.
kick out the jams.
twist and shout, baby.

unconscious magick.
improvise.
know not what you do.
goo goo ga-joob.
this is it.
all systems go.
everyone aboard the mind shift/ship in whatever way any of us might fashion it to be.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
nicotine gum.
be logical.
be reasonable.
straighten up and fly right.
it’s medication time.

there would seem to be in a given society there are x-number of those who are considered mad.
there must be some sort of evolutionary advantage to this being the case with us being a social species.
just as the fact we have emotions and imagination.
and drugs.
and gods.
and cats.
everything we do.
and there are those who are investigating those same subjects and more on and on.

sketches of madness developing though it becomes meaningless for a while sometimes with the radio playing yesterday’s hits from the tomb.
he thinks about everything he doesn’t know about anything he was never much interested in to begin with but everything itself what can possibly be understood about it as it is happening.
he is overjoyed and overwhelmed by how much information is readily available now than ever was though it can complicate matters as he gazes into a maze of mirrors seeing himself in everything everywhere everywhen that may or may not have been or will be doesn’t really matter much to a toad in the road.
he is content to be as he is.
who needs to improve upon perfection?
not perfection that is complete but ongoing changing becoming.
he has patience.
he can wait for it to come if ever or never.
he does not need glorification.
he does not need to become enlightened.
he is doing ok as it is as it develops on its own way.
what mystery always remains regardless of how much we feel we have come to understand.
would we want it any other way?
this is our mission purpose for our existence.
what becomes of us if it ever comes to an end?
how do we continue?
what’s the point?

we are blessed and/or cursed.
we are a mixed up mess either way.
a mob of billions on the face of the earth in the world at large each into their own trip of how they might have learned to perceive what is and what is not as instructed.
how much better can it get or how much worse?
either way we learn to ride with it for our lives.
this world as an expression of ourselves.
ourselves as an expression of the world.

sitting by the window at the café – mocha, orange juice.
scribbling a not poem in a notebook as usual as he does continually.
no matter what might happen to him is inconsequential to all being right in the world as it is with everyone getting their ya-yas out in one form or another for better or worse.
as it may become.
it’s not his problem.
it’s all fun till someone loses an eye.

flash paradise.
beginning with i am.
i am is the one necessary component for existence.
without conscious perception there is nothing no matter what might occur.
but occurring is consciousness.
i am is always eternal with everything passed on being to being throughout receiving processing transmitting.
it’s simple.
but ya gotta think about it.
sometimes ya gotta think about it for a lifetime.

he pets the kitty now he’s home.
a cigarette.
he sees his therapist today.
more drugs?
maybe.
he feels sorta ok though not wanting to be medicated to feel that way but the world drives him nuts.
otherwise the day is his to do nothing.
he eats some cashews.
he picks his nose.

he doesn’t feel he needs to confirm godhead for himself as the wise guys urge us.
he’ll take their word for it.
what does he need with godhead?
he realizes i am on his own.
the i am playing in the world to experience what it is like to be mortal and human.
what a trip it is.
he’ll be glad and sad when it’s over.
glad to be done with all the dada bullshit involved in having to deal with others.
sad not to enjoy the sensations of it as only being a mortal human can.
chewing bazooka.
but maybe he’ll decide to take another shot at it.
if it’s his choice and not some default of the program.
he’d like to think he is not forced into this.
what a thing for a god to do.
but there is no god – not really.
or not.
what does it matter?
it comes out the same either way.

love is the answer.
love is the law.
not love given or taken, but love felt.
he knows no love.
he feels a blank space of indifference.
no direction home.
people bug him.
people amuse him.
he tries to stay outta their way as much as possible.
he’d rather be on his own.
they’d rather he was on his own as well.
he’s such a bother they do not understand what the fuck is wrong with him.
it must be something, they know that much.
he eats a hot dog.

there’s nothing wrong with him at all.
he’s human as humans will be in all diverse varieties of kind.
he is as unique as anyone else except the groupthinkers who all try to act and behave the same.
and they are many.
they get things done.
not always things that need doing but still they get it done.
join us, they tell us.
become one with us.
be happy.
but he sees it’s more a case of misery loves company.

he goes to visit with the therapist.
she pronounces him sane enough, sort of.
he can tell she has her doubts.
she is tall.

coming home he imagines sitting before the computer on a sunny warm spring afternoon hunched over the keyboard typing out the infamous epic not poem about our theory of everything and such.
and report to the committee.
and we are them manifesto.
and shit.

left turning discombobulating widdershins theory.
makes no sense to nobody important enough to know better.
mucky muck intellectuals gathered in their masses.
knowledge for its own sake, never mind the consequences to anyone else – especially if it’s the peasants.
the great unwashed.
the less of them the better.
nothing but trouble.

and gazorbnik saves the day.
the mind shift/ship takes it all away yonder.
ghost shirts.
crossfire of truths.
sitting on a fence.
what does and does not make sense to one another we include in with our theory of everything anyway.
mix it up and turn it around deconstructing down to the ground where we plant both feet and walk away.
if it were that easy does it.
but it is inside our heads outta our minds.
another cigarette.
he imagines a human transformation everywhere on all levels.
or maybe not.
it all becomes destroyed.
enclaves of the wealthy and powerful and their heavily armed trusted minions and underlings.
the rest of us fend for ourselves on a ruined earth.
eat or be eaten.
tribal warfare.
turf.
militia at ready for local takeover.
death to the heretics.

enough with the good life.
out on the street.
refugee.
bum.

the absurd rules according to plan.
just as we expected from long times ago.
at the beginning of the dawn we began to work our magick while the others worked wonders for us.
as it is so now today in the future.
we are them.
the project is ahead of schedule and under budget and near complete according to our cockeyed calculations notwithstanding.
bring it all down to earth.
let us roam as we please gathering what we find useful for our survival or interesting for our amusement making up stories as we wander along toward the promised land in our pursuit of happiness.
1000 years.
but who’s counting?

a different world awaits us.
trials and tribulations.
holy zion has fallen.
year zero.

come as you are.
you will have no other choice.
this broken world half in pieces.
billions dying.
no tender age is this.
no compassion nor sympathy.
grab it all for ourselves what we can of what’s left behind.
we do what we are able.
our self-interest is at stake.
meditate and transcend to higher more refined spheres of endless delights.
naked unafraid – unarmed.
the lion lays down with the lamb and starves to death.
hook and crook.
surrender.
adapt to the situation.
improvise.
die.

our madness will certainly continue no matter what.
we will always be here now.
fortune and misfortune go hand in hand.
the others will never escape.
we direct them with our mysterious ways and means.
as if.

but then we are delusional that way but it seems we are no wackier than some other people’s shit about stuff we would think.
we are dreamers of this wonderful world of good and evil.
dance, everybody, dance.

… ???

sometimes it’s just nothing.
sometimes there is everything.
he just doesn’t understand the situation probably.
perpetual darkness.
eternal light.
12=13.
hello kitty.
the chains of command.
from infinite god down to infinitesimal particles.
he’d rather be dreaming in his head.
reality is so cumbersome.
and we supposedly don’t even belong here according to what the wise guys tell us.
we belong with god.
the promises they tell us from their high seats.

he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
to worship the world.
the world provides what we need to survive – kinda.
but the world is temporal.
it comes and goes.
everything comes and goes.
the world is where we learn our lesson.
those who fail are destroyed.
he was never much good at school.
always dreaming out the window.
a problem child no one seemed to quite know what to do with.
take him out and shoot him.
deviant of the master race.

to worship (to prostrate) anything seems absurd to him.
but there are many those who are willing.
and there are those many who are forced.
who would seriously want others prostrate before them?
the world is god’s footstool.
all glory to god.
to acknowledge that it could destroy us at any time with its ultimate supernatural powers on a mere whim if it chose to.
it bids us to rise and enter unto heaven.

god as über-ape.
that silverback king of them all.
to arrive at this godhead thing.
what a waste of his time.
in a meadow of daisies in the midst of a forest of dreams on an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
and he dreams about those who believe in this god while he also dreams about everything.
he reports to the committee via not poem he is typing out thinking about whatever comes to mind.
thinking about everything at once.
our rationalogic thinking leads us to this god.
the finite conception of the infinite.
it may or may not be true.
he is sitting on a fence in the middle of crossfires of ideas and ideals.
it’s all theoretical speculative nonsense to him.
he decides what is perhaps possible to be the actual situation – if there is an actual situation.
so much is kept hidden perhaps later to be revealed to our astonishment.
he is astonished already.
it doesn’t take much.
he is a simple idiot disguised as fool.

meanwhile he imagines himself gazing out the window at a gray morning dripping from recent rain.
he needs to go out for supplies.
not now.
he doesn’t know what to think about what.
everything changing with the moment flowing eternal to the sea.
be one with that.
remaining always transforming from ourselves into ourselves – whatever that might mean.
the greater self than the self.
he feels he sorta gets it but it seems so roundabout way of going about it that to him seems unnecessary.

the apparent display of ego-centered consciousness.
the vehicle of the spirit.
energy waves of living life within.
enjoy it while it lasts.
dress it up.
make it up.
take it anywhere we want to go which he never much wanted to go anywhere but to stay home to dream instead of being around a buncha crazy people who believe they are sane cuz they run the world and make it work which is all well and good but could be done more simple and easier fulfilling our basic needs rather than our every whim and fancy destroying the earth.
but who will change their minds?
what effort is already being expended toward that?
but their minds must be willing to change.
what would convince them?
nothing has convinced them so far.
not force nor reason.
they are successful winners and make $$$ as the way things are and seem will always continue.
that’s all they understand.
while we endure.
while he opts out of the whole thing of it that is irresolvable.

what’s the deal?
it could be anything.
he doesn’t know.
he doesn’t care really as long as they don’t rock his boat.
but they sail by in their pleasure yachts and warships making waves.
that’s their dream of wealth and power in this world.
we cannot argue with it.
it works for them as far as they’re concerned.
they couldn’t care less how it might affect anyone else.
join us, they say as they lock the gates against us.
how do we get through to them as exclusive as they have made themselves?
or do we wait for their whole scheme to break down and collapse?
but that has occurred before and there’s always someone else willing and ready to fill the void left behind.
so it goes on and on.
no end in sight.

in the café sitting by the window.
mocha, biscuits and gravy, orange juice.
everything is right in the world – his world.
a world teetering wobbly gyroscopic on the edge of reality.
drawing the curtain back to reveal ranks of people pulling levers and pushing buttons of the god machine according to instructions from above.
he goes to get supplies.
he comes back to the café.
a cigarette on the patio talking with his baby.
then inside by the window again.
scribble some more.

the god machine chugs and churns devouring $$$ and spits out certificates of salvation.
and how many believe this is truth without thinking about it, without wanting to think about it – thinking hurts.
bad bad brain.

everything as a dragon shitting a 0 dimension singularity plenum thing of infinitely dense matter in potential of being with a spark of infinity possibility exploding into finite spacetime universe expanding approaching infinity or not.
there ain’t no such thing as nothing.
looking for laws of harmony and order dismissing the discordant and chaos.
but to be dismissed something must therefore exist therefore it is part of everything therefore it needs to be included in with any theory of everything.
don’t be fooled.
|_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_|

we are fooled.
we fool ourselves.
he fools himself.
he is gullible about everything.
he is a believer in everything though everything may be not.
but he has a zillion doubts.
everything he believes contradicts itself.
there is no truth but possibilities of truth.
he eats some ginger snaps dunking them in coffee.
a cigarette.
a blind date with destiny.
what does he know from direct experience?
he gazes out the window a-wondering.
he knows he is (i am).
he knows what he feels within himself.
he knows what he perceives with his senses.
he knows what he has learned from others relating their experiences.
he knows what he imagines.
how much of it should he believe?
to doubt is to exist.
what is within but consciousness?
awareness of being.
thoughtless consciousness that is thinking.
thinking about everything he experiences.
which comes first?
do we experience and then think, or do we think and then experience?
realism vs idealism thing on and on debate.
how can there be proof of one or the other?
proof is when something can be verified with the senses.
but if we are questioning the very senses themselves what do we use to verify our conclusions?
blah blah blah.

we are told by others the many different theories they have about everything.
everything is physical.
everything is spiritual.
what do we actually know about any of that but what we have happened across along on our way thinking about everything willy-nilly?
we know that is all seems in contradiction with itself.
how do we gauge what truth there may or not be?
there are many truths people propose, some with a force of arms and $$$.
he doubts that any one of these truths is truth but that truth encompasses all these truths.
there should be a point of view from which all these truths are not in contradiction but are complementary and in agreement and harmony.
harmony of discord.
light is truth.
darkness is truth.
they both can be truth while their truths are in contradiction.
light is truth for light.
darkness is truth for darkness.
or something like that.

this is where his mind goes.
this is his virgo obsessive compulsive madness.
hahaha.
he don’t care.
it’s what he gets paid for.
best job he’s ever had.
typing out a not poem report to the committee that probably doesn’t exist.
making up shit like gazorbnik and guru jeff to keep himself and whoever amused.
him and his damned ignorance surrounding him his dim candlelight cannot penetrate.
does anyone give us credit for anything?
their lord god certainly doesn’t.
all we do is evil in its mind and must be punished for all eternity.
birth after birth.
life after life.
death after death.
all our efforts are futile.
we have learned that so far.
so we have been told by the others who aren’t interested in anything that won’t make them $$$.
but that is how the world works according to universal law.
the law of their god.

which comes first out of everything?
what supervenes upon what?
or is it all at once the same?
the physical is the mental as the mental is the physical rather than one leading or following the other.
he experiences no difference himself.
sophomoric understanding.
have another toke.
another cigarette.
to bite the hand that feeds him.
draw blood.
to be cast out to the wolves.
eat or be eaten.
to wander naked unafraid of god, human or beast.
there are no gods but that spirit interwoven into the physical.
they are not physical objects but physical behaviors.
what is the exact instant of creation but now?
we are exploding.
where when does it begin or end?
we are unable to measure the moment.
what is the different between the moment and not the moment?
where when do we draw the line?
is it here now?
or is it here now?
1 > infinity.
on/off.

a singularity isn’t as “small” as we think.
it has 0 dimension located at the exact center of infinity everywhere.
SEX.
nothing is impossible cuz there ain’t nothing preventing everything from being possible.
the possibility of existence that once existing seems impossible viewed from within set given parameters of conditions necessary for existence.
existence as what?
something able to be perceived?
something able to be experienced?
something knowing itself?
perceived by what?
experienced by what?
knowing itself as what?
does it live in a house and mow the lawn?
does it shit in a toilet?
a seemingly finite spacetime universe is created.
the finite cannot adequately describe infinity not in any of its parts and not in its whole except to symbolically trigger our imagination.
our imagination goes where we cannot.
and he sleeps.

><><><><><><><><><><><

he awakens.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
to return continuing typing out a not poem about our theory of everything.
a buncha bunk.
it medication time.
it’s also trash day.
various housework to do and stuff.
like laundry and the cat box and such.
he gets more coffee.

he becomes despondent about everything not being able to put it together into anything universally agreeable.
but why should it be so?
multiple realities for everyone which would be ok if we didn’t fight about it over it being this way or that way or the other way and on and on and so on like it is.
maybe we would all agree that the world sucks?
we’d have a good laugh and maybe better get along?
but there are those who feel that agreement among us can only be achieved if everyone is thinking the same thing as they are.
whatever.
so as much as we are concerned we cannot be concerned about what the others do or not.
we are in this for ourselves to attain the best we can for ourselves.
for many the best is whatever material goods they can gather into their possession.
for others it is treasures laid up in heaven.
for him this life as is is the best he can imagine – though winning the lottery would be ok, as would attaining godhead.
neither are gonna happen, but you can’t win if you don’t play.
that’s how they getcha.
that’s how life gets ya.

to find our own peace within manifested without as we perceive the world and others in it as ourselves.
as we seek to find something to believe in without a doubt and so far have come up pretty much zip – except for gazorbnik.
but who knows what gazorbnik means?
everything is questionable.
it could very well remain so for eternity.
our mission is to piece together as much of it as we are able under the circumstances of our situation.
our self-imposed mission from god.
a god we do not know or understand it would seem from what the wise guys tell us.
but they are all part of the illusion we are distracted by.
where are they where we are?
where are we?

we have nothing but dreams.
our imaginations wild.
reason stretching to the breaking point of no return.
to separate the wheat from the chaff.
the spirit from the body.
the threshing floor.
cast off the chaff now having fulfilled its function to return it to the earth to regenerate itself again.
everything in cycles spiraling never repeating quite the same ever.
everything in a mad dream of a mad god laughing screaming alone inside the void in his head.
he has little doubt about that.
he dreams it for himself to dream.
he dreams everything for himself to dream.
to dream reality filled with others with dreams of their own.
we all put it together this way that way the other way on and on communicating our ideas of it with one another through various means from gestures to empathic telepathy.
we agree with some and disagree with others.
many of us couldn’t care less about it at all.
we each come to our own understanding that either fits in with the collective whole or not.
but we don’t seem to be able to agree even on what the collective whole is or should be.

he lets this run through his mind awhile.
he gazes out the window to watch however much of the world as he can see.
it appears not to change yet to the practiced eye it is all changing.
what does that mean?
without change there would be nothing.
nothing we would perceive or experience anyway.
would we still know i am?
how without change?
but remove the i am and everything disappears.
i am is the primordial 1st thought.
without it no other thought is possible.
or not.

then there is it.
that which is perceived and experienced.
there are two ways to go from that.
into within or into without – if there is actually a difference between the two.
what is the topography of ourselves?
into what realities does it transverse through?
he feels that he experiences many at a time.
what can be proven beyond the ability of what the senses perceive if that is stated to be the determining measure of what is proof?
he looks at what his senses tell him is a rock.
but in his thinking it is much more depth of imagined meaning.
the same is true with everything.
what is the true rock?
is there a rock?
is there i am to perceive and experience the rock?
always fucking questions.
and everybody has an answer.
their answer is truth to them.
he himself doesn’t have much of any answers.
he’s not so much bothered by that really.
answers lead to further questions.
questions are where it’s all happening, baby.

he pops in a piece of nicotine gum to see if he might make it through the day without a cigarette.
jets and helicopters fly low overhead.
he takes out the trash and waters the plants.
he has laundry washing in the machine.
a world where we just eat acid all the time without worry or care.
it’s just wind in our hair.
empty the dishwasher and clean the cat box.
another toke.
he does not worship kings.
that’s for losers.
he’s a winner.
he’s gained victory over himself – though there are still pockets of resistance here and there.
he proudly bravely waves his ragged burning freak flag high higher highest above the world.
or else he is delusional.
he’s ok with it either way.
one person’s delusion is another’s reality.
we each have our own dreams.
logic never fails.
he’s never been much with rules to follow if he feels like it or not if he doesn’t.
this gets him in and outta trouble.
in the divine plan there is bound to be someone like him – maybe several many someones like him.
just don’t too much care or not.
it’s all dogma as much as he is able to determine considering everything he knows is wrong.
but dogmas contain elements of truth which he steals and includes in with our theory of everything to understand their true meaning – if any or what.
he trusts no one with truth but takes it into consideration while he thinks about it to understand it first before deciding to believe it or not.
thought experiments.
dream experiments.
he nukes and eats a hot dog.
his baby wakes up.

turd

as a spaceship hovers nearby he is busy planning an escape hoping to be able to open the necessary appointed portals in synchro-timed sequences such that he’s gone without anyone noticing which they usually don’t pay him much attention anyway so that’s not really a problem much and to devise pathways through twilight zone planes of reality he learned as a sprout back in indiana which isn’t that far from the truth and besides truth is for losers who have lost their own way and to remember the codes he discovered throwing backhanded i-ching with wooden nickels as guru jeff had taught us quite a while ago in the early years before his timely death at our hands on deck of cards chosen at quasi-random possibilities surrounding the quantum fields vibrating energies every tuesday after each of the half-moons waxing and waning like life itself until death do us part.

repent.
repent what?
repent being a self-centered selfish greedy ignorant brute without a care for anyone as much as they care about him?
repent disobeying the law of the fathers?
repent having too much fun being lazy as fuck?
he is guilty as charged, he supposes – and much much more.
one would imagine the almighty lord god would know better but it seems it was quite careless creating us such that only a few would be chosen while the vast majority goes to waste.
bad god.
bad bad god.
go to your room until you learn to behave yourself and play nice.
no one likes a bully – a self-righteous one at that.

we generally seem to hate in others what we perceive in them about what we most hate in ourselves.
that seems about right about god and its attitude about us.
he does not believe in a perfect god.
he does not believe in a perfect anything.
god is just a being that appears without beginning on the scene as bewildered as anyone would be until it discovers powers of creating sustaining destroying whatever realities at will it fills with images of itself each independently differently unique yet god seems to feel all must wish to be the same and obedient slaves to its will.
for some reason our acting on our own seems to drive it bananas into fits of rage and revenge.
god seriously needs to get over itself.
but the chances of that happening are probably nil.
we need to find a means of putting it outta its misery which since he was child told about there being god he never felt god was very happy with anything probably not with itself most of all.
it acts the spoiled child with too many toys it recklessly breaks or abandons cuz there will always be more where they come from with a snap of its fingers anytime it wants.
he does not believe this god knows anything about love and compassion, not that he has ever read about in the holy books or imagined on his own.
such a waste of time and energy.
but god has infinite reserves at its command and disposal so why should it care?
it obviously doesn’t.
so why should we care?
so why should he care?
we are born damned so who gives a fuck?
fuck it.
fuck it all.

but he finds his peace in moments of solitude where when he is left free of being bothered.
this is where when his thinking runs away with itself toward new understanding – or to further depths of delusion.
does it matter which, if it is not that the two are the same?
he doubts it.

we are commanded to love god.
he neither loves nor hates god.
he pities god if anything.
the poor soul laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
it seems frightened to him.
frightened that it will not be loved as it would seem it needs to be.
it is a sad thing to behold.
the great creator humbled by unrequited love.
if it actually can feel love.
he doubts that by its reported actions against those of us who are at best indifferent toward it.
it regards us as worth no more than the dirt from which we were formed.
easy come, easy go.
it carelessly sows seed all over the place on barren ground and fertile.
it prizes what the fertile ground produces and curses what the barren ground does not.
is it we who decide where we fall?
this is what he understands about it and he is not impressed.
the great almighty lord god of oz on the mountain top smoking and thundering and all sorts of other special effects to make us tremble and be afraid.
who wants any part of that if this is the only way god can relate to us?
why not each of us one on one face to face?
sit and talk it out.
light up a bowl.
light up a cigarette.
this mystery it cloaks itself in does nothing but confuse the whole fucking thing and makes us feel like stupid worthless shit not understanding what’s the deal.
what are these threats it makes?
if you love someone set them free and if they don’t come back then hunt them down and kill them seems to be its thinking.
he would expect a god to be above that sort of thing, but it would seem that it is not.
oh well.

he likes to love.
he tries to find love in his heart but it is a difficult thing.
he would like perhaps to love god but he will not love god just for the mere fact it has not destroyed him on a whim – yet.
and there is always one more test with god.
there is definitely something wrong with this picture.
it is probably himself.
that is what the wise guys would tell him.
but he doubts that as well.
he has been around this over and over again hoping the results would be different but not expecting them to be.
what is he missing?
to find the god within?
he has found that one – the one laughing and screaming alone in the void inside his head.
who might comfort it?
how many of us does it need to love it and praise its holy name for all eternity?
will there ever be enough?
what drives this madness from its mind?
he does not know.
he cannot imagine.

so he goes his merrie way through birth life death thing taking in what he can from what he experiences and learns from the experiences of others.
he tries to learn about everything and come to an understanding about it.
how long will this take?
how many lifetimes – if he has more than this?
it doesn’t matter.
god or not god.
duality once more.
we know all about that and how it works to create and shape reality.
a reality of a world he can destroy with a bullet.
pull the trigger and it all goes away.
he remains alone in a void without his head.
oh boy.

he lights up the bowl.
he lights up another cigarette.
he thinks if there is anyone out here but him.
maybe yes.
maybe no.
maybe maybe, baby.
he thinks if he were god and all alone and lonely being all that which exists since no beginning he can remember and came up with the brilliant idea to create something other than himself and having nothing else to make use of he creates it out of himself dividing himself into countless pieces of every shape and size and description, etc. from teeny tiny particles to great huge galaxies all spinning in crazy circles around him being amazed at first but gradually becoming bored with no other to be amazed with beside him and then deciding to supernaturally manifest creatures to be his companions witnessing this infinite display of wonder he scoops up earth and breathes his breath into it and there soon are countless of the fuckers who are himself in disguises and thinking all sortsa shit about everything they perceive around them and doing all sortsa shit and talking all sortsa shit and he thinks maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all so he calls them all back to himself to be one again and they take their sweet ass time about it being dazzled by the world as he imagines it being the best and worst of all possible worlds yet he has doubts perhaps that being all one again isn’t what he wants either so he keeps it both ways awhile until he decides which or what it might be as randomly unpredictable as he could make it wanting to be surprised which he has been and continues to be so in all the forms he has taken in this pursuit of self-interested happiness he enjoys imagining himself sitting before a computer in a mortal human form hunched over the keyboard typing out a not poem about our theory of everything thus far as it he comes to understand it realizing he is still alone but lonely no more.

he chews some bazooka.
he blows a bubble careful not to get it stuck in his beard.
what an oh no that would be.
hahaha.
imagining possibilities endlessly even with medications to slow it down so it’s not spiraling out like rows of dominos toward infinite infinitesimalities along pathless paths of improbability reaching the destination in the journey to nowhere (now here).
oh boy.
what fun.
how exciting.
and the lottery ticket comes up zip.

and how is he to tell if he is mad or not?
he doesn’t feel particularly mad.
he hears voices but he doesn’t listen to them.
it’s all a cacophony anyway.
a vocal noise montage.
it’s the reactions of the others to him that tell him he is mad.
they hardly need say nothing directly about it, except in jest.
he knows.
they know he knows.
they are always watching for clues in his behavior.
they remind him that he is error.
they have reminded him with ECTs in the past.
he understood that he was the odd one out as soon as he decoded the language they were speaking.
after a while he began digging it as he learned how to use it to his benefit and he wouldn’t change it for nothing.
a disappearing dot of light like on an old tv set when you shut it off.
there goes the world as we know it.
goodbye.
back to oblivion, baby.
which is what?
huh?

chewing some nicotine gum.
it ain’t no cigarette.
it ain’t no disco.
he’s become distracted along the way here now.
he thinks he remembers.
a god willing itself into existence.
a god that is ever was.
a finite/infinite god.
a finite/infinite hot dog.
it.
before any duality.
and he sleeps.

at the diner over medium eggs sourdough toast orange juice open notebook scribbling a not poem about our theory of everything and such along whatever comes to mind in the moment which isn’t much of anything so far that formulates itself into words he might transcribe on a blank page waiting for ink to be marked on it for future reference by whoever whenever wherever might come to understand whatever about anything up for grabs by anyone and all that jazz waiting for instructions from central command.
all the lovesick songs on the jukebox moaning heartaches.
he steps outside for a smoke watching people coming and going along like waves on a beach he imagines himself standing at the edge of the surf washing in and washing out sinking feet into the sand as he ponders whatever the fuck.
he steps back inside sitting at the counter continuing scribbling his delusional mind working to bring him ideas about the impractical absurd unreal things that seem to follow and find him anywhere he goes haunting him with ghostly montage of images difficult to describe as it is the same as it ever was but with a twist and turning or two or three on and on.
he wonders still about the god problem as if that needs to be our real concern but with these people willing to kill and die for their version of god against others with different ideas.
who is who?
whose truth is truth?
gods of our imagination people make into their reality they then often attempt to impose on others at gunpoint with some amount of success given how people value their lives over their own ideas most of the time but for a few martyrs  for the cause and effect which hasn’t necessarily been proven true or false either way according to many who think too much and are met with the absurd everywhere they might turn this way that way the other way and back over and over again until it becomes entangled into gordian knots that the sword is the solution for some who have no time for nonsense.
there seems to be some confusion about our theory of everything in confusion with us and itself representing the confusion of the reality of the situation which may or may not be in the supposed ordered world but there are rooms for everything in this dualistic continuum world from the best to the worst of all possibility including what is one person’s best is another’s worst possessing us to behave accordingly to our karmic sense of fate or whatever.
we skate across the thin ice of our consciousness trembling laughing nervously at the absurdity of it becoming itself crashing tumbling down the long winding stairs to the foyer floor in black and white chessboard tiles with surreal flavor as he continues scribbling.
then he goes home.

his heart is here imagining sitting before the computer gazing out the window he sees not much happening humanwise but otherwise everything is happening.
he takes a nap.

driving it down and out on easy street where the bums all meet who is left anymore among them with the new upscale renovations being put in place.
save the earth.
so he continues scribbling except now at the café on the other side of town.
turn your frown upside down.
and he is thinking about everything he can which probably isn’t much compared with most who are so inclined to think about everything at all mostly the wise guys who know it all what there is to know but it’s all about what we feel about everything that’s the question or not and he feels some amount of happiness about it but also sorrow about those beaten down and abused so casually by others or left sick and starving with great neglect in the shadows of the empire we have built with no one asking us about it to begin with and as god allows for its greater glory as savior as the caldron is stirred some more by god’s demon underlings doing it the favor to show us that we are nothing but dog shit in the spotlight onstage at the burning theory where all are put to the test with sacrifices to be made to the high priests living the life on their holy seats placed before god almighty in the temple.
clowns to the left.
jokers to the right.
what the fuck are we doing here?
we sit back and enjoy the show must go on despite the tragedy involved as long as the old songs play on the radio with people singing along remembering youth they enjoyed but now the bad times are hanging around causing trouble for everyone he is not impressed by any of it lost in thinking about details of meaning surrounding the issue at hand which we forget what that is by now as history is rewritten to celebrate our newly acquired freedom to be whatever the fuck we please with no accounting for taste or responsibility for actions made in the moment of our deliverance unto evil ways among us like ringing a bell.
he’s all mixed up.
it ain’t like this at all but old used up dogma doo-doo thing in his head about it but that others believe and kill and die for god and $$$ laughing all the way.
it’s easy.
it’s a snap.
it’s a buncha crap.
to obey the state.
to obey god.
to obey ourselves.
to go along business as usual minding our own selves being outta the way of the big wheels churning turning as much as possible we might get away with as we will.
born into a house of lies as a child innocently growing up assuming he could believe what he was being told while he played with his toys until he grew older to begin to realize this may have been a big mistake but not exactly how or why and not much caring just wanting to have some fun but everyone have their agendas to promote and sell.
it’s all about the $$$.
he knew little about this not much paying attention nor anyone much to him he was more or less free but always broke but as he just wanted a simple life he never minded that as it gave him all the time to think about shit which he knew little about which is a dangerous thing.
he left it up to others to fuss and decide what’s what which he would go along with or not as he felt like for whatever reason or none at all oblivious of what was going on around him he dreams his dreams he just wanted peace and never understanding the complications of reasons why not people had about it feeling they aren’t getting their piece of the pie and tired of eating cake he withdraws from it all into retreating to the country where there ain’t nothing happening trying to shake it out and shape it up but mostly just fantasizing time away in waking walking  sleep ignoring everything ding dong in permutations of dead brain consciousness pretending to be an artist/poet composing trash constructions incomplete and ill-advised except for once in a while spells of inspiration to produce actual random expressions of misunderstood meaning.
he never had a chance.
he didn’t know what he was doing.
he didn’t wanna know what he was doing.
he mostly wanted to be left alone but people had other ideas about that.
he goes home again.

being here now.
a toke.
a smoke.
god is a joke.
why not?

spin, baby, spin.
it’s medication time.
make sure he stays on the path.
lsd.
he feels he is on some sorta brink either to fall or fly.
he wonders why but every why is answered, why not?
creeping along typing out a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet.
nope.
he’s quit fooling himself about that but he always knew.
he just doesn’t ever quite cut it.
he’s never been quite focused enough.
other people are focused straight on things with all they got.
those people are often annoying cuz that’s all they talk about and many get rather evangelical about it.
kill and die.
he’s avoided them as much as is possible.
but he’s kinda the same but he focuses on everything that comes his way this or that or the other thing moment by moment his concentration always being distracted by something else to concentrate on and so on.
he finds god floating in the toilet.
he mumbles a prayer and flushes it.

stuff

in the beginning there is gazorbnik.
it springs on the scene while nothing else is going on by mere happenstance of infinitesimal possibility of negative nothingness³.
or something like that.
but actually there is no beginning nor end.
1 > infinity.
multivariable fuzzy dice.
then the dada-ananda appears to transmorphisize the proceedings into shapes of donuts.
tasty yum.
then an inkling of uncertainty winks in our direction and we are born.
what the fuck?
and something magically becomes something through a long drawn out process of hyper-dimensional reflex osmosis something or other.
gimme a beer.
itchy banana.
he lights another bowl.
he lights another cigarette.
meanwhile he imagines sitting before the computer typing out a not poem about our theory of everything into a singularity plenum thing of infinite infiniteness becoming everything at once and for all practical purposes at some 0 dimension point expanding explosively into becoming a spacetime universe thing.
and light and darkness are the first.
from there everything breaks loose into existence.
being occurs.
experiencing.
thinking in the sense of bits of data received processed transmitted spiraling around around never quite the same ever.
none of which is true allowing for the possibility of illusion to become manifest which is how the zebra got its stripes symbolically representing dualistic nature of the beast.
chaos reigns while order is gradually restored to bring it all to an end.
and here we roam in a world not of our choosing but thrown into it like a baby with the bathwater.

in the heart of it.
in a moment of love.
we wish them the best with whatever they are attempting to accomplish but we have little faith in it nor would we want to not like others who surrender to it wholeheartedly without thinking of what might be entailed by such shenanigans  they are usually up to crawling like snakes in the grass to kiss with sweet savoring tongue flicking our faces turning away from all the turmoil of living wild in itself becoming shadows on the cave wall where we are bound and imprisoned in their thought experiment of philosophic chicanery to protect and preserve their profitable interests in sailing ships across the risky seas toward rainbowed shores of tomorrow playing with meat confused with the diabolical tricks they employ.
writing so much gibberish until it clicks into place and words flow like a river of rain in a box underlit by common sense blinded in one eye unable to see with the other in times they are a-changing to undiscovering the emptiness within our doubt but have no fear otherwise executed by powers unknown to be shattered on the bricks too soon to be told right from wrong in marginalized obedience to the voices in our heads commanding us to surrender.
a brilliant hypothesis commandeered by those who don’t give a shit.
flatulence transpires among us.

doldrums.
sails without wind.
flesh without spirit.
mind without thought.
a pleasant afternoon otherwise.
a rabid rapid progression of eventual decay.
where are the gods?
where are we?
room 101 calls our name.
rule #1: look out for ourselves.
he’s tired again still.
doing nothing.
thinking.
driving it down into the ground.
sometimes he feels like a motherless child a long way from his home, yeah.
balancing dancing on the head of a pin.

with uncertain certainty he muses the development of what constitutes reality upon himself in painful release of balloons skyward eating away at what’s left of his fractured mind abuzz with strange activity in memory of those who have fallen along the winding way of the wide road of the masses trampling everything underfoot with final unforgiven disgrace and fortitude to meet the challenge each moment brings us to flaming realization of the fraudulent claims of those who make their $$$ off the unwary tourist to this wilderness of shining silver peaks of possibility erupting spewing guts forbidden by the authority invested in jokers running rings around the tub of neglected sorrow under wraps  hidden in recessed orifices dropped from heights unheard of witnessed by scores of underlings in tow chewing at the back of their heads while new dreams ought to run like hell is after them as clouds overcast the sky dreaming about fanciful flights of fancy with terrible music on the stereo in this forsaken place finding out it may not be as real as previously thought and believed to be weather permitting marching down the street with waving flags to be raised burning above us up on the hill looking down at the little people gathered for the chance to win a brand new car to drive across the desert with a dog in the back seat barking at the moon while it lasts while plans are made otherwise to become a thing no matter what we may dream against it toward distant cities crumbling at our feet overgrown by wild bouts of vegetation the voice on the radio tells us truth mixed with lies and tales told by idiots on doorsteps leading to inner sanctums of mind over matter scratching at the doors of perception eagerly licking death in prisoned prisms pouncing ponderously perpetually pinpoints poisoned purposefully prohibited like sycamores at the lake tranquil ambience encircled around heads locked sideways to become our salvation he burps thankfully scorned by those feeling they are our betters coughing up blood onto the pure white carpet cuz there ain’t no place to go to find easy answers anymore.

sucking cock.
flying high above treetops dripping with pleasure.
at random intervals we see ourselves misplaced among what remains of humanity.
pop the trunk to reveal the dead body celebrated worldwide.
make it dance for us then we might believe though we continue to have doubt.
doubt in everything.
everything in doubt.
this may be our downfall yet it might mean otherwise.

to want what will never be.
sad people.
the configuration of reality set against our dreams, or vice versa.
we have been forced into this world against our will without our permission.
damn whatever god is responsible no matter how rich and powerful it may be.
it has damned us knowingly deliberately.
except those who worship and obey.
we will stand our ground to refuse and resist attempts to make us behave and conform though we will lose in the end all what little that we have to sustain us.
we did not make the rules.
we do not necessarily wish to break the rules but we just wanna do what we want to be free.
we don’t even know what all the rules are exactly there are so many.
rules that entail them having all the power.
power to the people and those who supposedly represent them.
so they claim.
we do not know them.
they do not know us.
faces as seen on tv.
all about how everything ideally should be, not as they are as we experience it.
so much commotion and conflict among us.
everybody’s trying to get away with something.
some are just more successful than others scheming and scamming their way through it.
it’s a game of danger and intrigue.
the more diabolical seem to rise to the top.
we have sat this one out to observe and report as are our instructions.
experience learn understand.
we understand too well the machinations of the others and their results.
all by the grace of god.
but even without god nothing changes about us.
do away with all the gods and leave us be and we will still connive against one another to gain victory and claim the spoils and write history to glorify ourselves.
it’s the nature of the beast.
it will be for ages to come despite the rise and fall of our folly.
the fascists rule the earth with their bundle of sticks philosophy.
might makes right and the collective is almighty.
yet the collective is just a mob if leaderless.
leaders turn it into an army.
spend the day watching parking meters.
they are really alien devices placed here to monitor us.
or not.

the simplemindedness of the sane.
the ready belief in reality as it appears and is explained to them by authorities no questions asked.
little to no imagination.
we speak to them and get blank bewildered looks in reply.
so we say nothing.
we watch and wait.
something will come along we know not what.
fate is a mystery.
what will happen within or without?
what will change us from ourselves if that is possible?
we are changing constantly with new different understanding in the moment now passing by so quickly we cannot measure it despite the wonders of our technology.
it might as well be eternal for all we know about it.
the fat black cat being a pest again.
he lights another cigarette.
the mailperson drives by.
somewhere a siren sounds.

the mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head continues.
the universe its hallucination to save itself from itself.
it takes on mortal form to pretend it will all go away.
but it is temporary and it must return to be alone once again.
that dreaded realization.
who can tolerate it?
not those whose ideal dreams are of goodness and light and bliss.
these are further aspects of the illusion that deludes us.
as are evil and darkness and all the rest of it.
anything is delusion but being that which is absolutely alone and all there is existing.
all else is void upon which it projects its imagination to create infinite distractions than to face this reality.
but what is to be done?
we fit into where and when we can to survive or not for as long as possible.
to be consciousness and nothing else.
consciousness of i am.
that is the only reality.
everything else is all very pretty but it is false illusion the i am consciousness imagines creating to amuse itself to sometimes horrifying results.
it tries to put those thoughts away from itself but this only produces irresolvable conflict within itself realizing everything is itself.
it fantasizes an anti-self that is set against it to place upon it all that it finds distasteful and evil.
of course this anti-self rebels.
and thus the constant war between light and dark when the two are complements of each other they are still in opposition.
and all that jazz and so on.

we are in the middle.
we are the prize it seems.
they each tempt us to gain our favor and recruit us to their side.
we are sitting on a fence.
neither has what we want.
we want them both to go away from us and leave us alone to our joyful sorrowful existence.
we are the dreamers who dream infinite dreams from our imagination of all possibility.
we endure them haunting us.
it is when we dream beyond them that we are the most happy.
they are aspects of a necessary duality that is the foundation of reality – the reality of our dreams.
other than that we know nothing.
we are here now.
does anything else exist but us?
is it we ourselves laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head?
he’s rather not think about that.
he is happy with his simple mortal human life thus far.
he does not need other worlds of heavens or hells.
this world at the center of infinite imagining is enough for him.
who can encompass it to understand everything?
this existential impasse of sorts.
what else is there to think?
what other evidence does our experience provide for us – never mind what everyone tells us about whatever about everything?
he wonders.

it’s a sticky tricky situation.
are there answers or only further questions we have yet to gain enough knowledge to ask?
he feels the latter is correct.
he finds that strangely more comforting.
answers require us to stop asking questions in order to work.
2+2=4?
there is no answer to the infinite.
answers can only be finite.
all the finites ever to exist do not add up to infinity.
he dreams of the infinite as much as that is possible.
if god is infinite as it is claimed it can only be approached by imagination.
this supposed loving god yet one of anger if we fuck it up.
spare the rod and spoil the child.
wait till your father gets home.
is that the infinite god?
he doubts it.
how can it be?
it is merely some anthropomorphized projection.

he does not know if any of this is his madness or not.
it could be.
does it matter?
what determines a god being mad when there is no other context but itself and/or what it creates to compare it to?
as we know madness is a social construct.
madness is a human trait.
everything about us is a human trait.
it should not be used as a measure of god.
can the finite measure the infinite?
nor can the infinite measure the finite.
the two (and the two of anything) meet in the middle.
we are the monkey in the middle.
look at us dance.
we’ll dance to anything.

against god and reason

pretzels.
a world of despair.
kundalini orgasm.
ectoplasm cum coming out our ears.
true/false.
pulsating brain.
radiating energy waves continuing the process of assimilation of information receiving/transmitting.
we are all mind controlled possessed by the gestalt consciousness within and without.
the hilarity of confusion ensues.
everybody, drop your pantaloons.
see how the other half lives.
shifting on our sanitary pedestals to lean into where when the beginnings begin to witness an act of god.
god poops.
steaming load of shit and a streaming flood of piss upon the earth from whence everything is born lives dies over and over again expecting different results.
to be transcended and transformed from all that is the goal the wise guys claim to be true because they tell us so.
it’s a satanic gay agenda CIA nazi-zionist masonic illuminati reptilian alien secret chiefs plot to undermine the social fabric of our society as it now stands divided against itself and to establish a brave new world order.
we told you so.
long may it wave.
this should be interesting from now on.
primal survival ape shit.
some make it.
many do not – billions.
is anybody out there?
probably not us.

he imagines sitting before the computer gazing out the window into a sunny warm colorful world outside while he stays in hunched over the keyboard typing out a not poem about our theory of everything and such.
cuz he ain’t no poet.
the cults of ancient mysteries passing on knowledge generation to generation of sons.
maintain power and control and make lottsa $$$.
worship one god – the father.
what’s wrong with this picture?
a god holding back its wrath is not compassion.
its toys will not behave themselves according to its will.
bad toys.
they act as though they have will of their own.

touching grace in disorderly conduct unbecoming who we think we are.
the lowly abject turd flushed down the toilet into the ground where it is dissolved and then absorbed up the roots of a tree through the trunk to the branches to become fruit offered and eaten chewed swallowed digested to poop another lowly abject turd.
cycles in never repeating spiraling across the universe dancing with cosmic magick celestial energy we feel within without in everything everywhere everywhen here now freak flags flying high higher highest burning beneath the moon up on the hill.
this is our moment.
a microscopic blip.
an infinitesimal glitch in the program algorithms setting them that much off from their assigned routine tasks.
chicken thigh with smashed potatoes and country gravy.
kids running around the yard laughing screaming up the street.
he starts coffee.
he loads a bowl and takes a toke.
coughs and hacks.
a cigarette.
the priest fucks the whore in ancient ritual.
different meanings than the words usually imply having been perverted for many many years by common usage.
these costumed ceremonial performances he has long rejected.
but they have their place included in with our theory of everything.
complementary opposites in opposition.
contradiction and conflict.
mint chocolate chip ice cream sandwich.
licking cold flesh.
everything is simple yet capable of great complexity.
regurgitating nonsense he’s learned and put together along the way of it.
it’s all his imagination.
but what becomes of someone like him?
refusing to follow the ways of the masters?
remaining purposefully ignorant of all things but in love with everything.
iconic images blown up video.
meaningful.
red team/blue team.
go go go.
rah rah.
another dimension involved.
dunk tank laughs.
shopping spree.

when the drunken poets have all staggered off toward home there is that one uncomfortable moment when we are faced with nothing to say between among us.
he gazes at the wealthy and ponders that by the grace of god he is not among them in the poverty of such spoiled arrogance.

give us peace.
but peace is not something we might ask for but something we gain within ourselves.
perceiving this world differently.
from hate to love.
we cannot ask others for love, but love is something we gain within ourselves.
and the same with understanding, not from others but from ourselves.
to come to understanding a zillion times a day flowing stream of consciousness of whatever comes to mind in the moment now is all that counts.
to feel om within us and without.
it stands to reason?
buddha butt plug.
the religion of the slaves.
proven on the battlefield of history.
yet the past does not exist?
our answers are riddles of questions?
we always want to understand more.
there is always more of everything, but how much more is our human capacity to understand?
we reach expanding into infinity – which may not exist?
we are touched by the divine.
it is a hopeless situation.
we are not ready to receive.
we are used up and broken down.
oh well, better luck next time.
but cracks of light become the dawn.
the cocoon is breaking open from within to without.
appearances fall away.
changing shape and form.
changing our minds.
we will always be faced with our ignorance at the edge of our knowledge.
the problem of all-knowing.
what’s next?

gazorbnik.

people eating people.
knowing and then to experience everything on and on.
we forget we are gods as we dive into it to live a mortal life as it is.
spin the wheels one more time.
down down down we go to the bottom of it.
the world of the knowledge of good and evil.
how else does karma drama occur?
we must be entertained.
he is tired of this life.
he is tired of the next life.
he is tired of hell.
he is tired of heaven.
bliss seems like it would be an eternal bore.
he wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy – if he had enemies.
he has people who have declared themselves his enemy he needs to be wary of but he for himself has none not even among them.
they know not what they do.
earthquakes and volcanos.
wars and rumors of wars.
drought and pestilence.
another cigarette.
these have been his visions and dreams.
drawn to the chaos of it.
perfection is never good enough for him.
he sees the flaws in it.
let it go to be as it is.
death and decay.
transforming ever anew.
nothing is forever.
forever composed of infinite finite moments.
you can’t get there from here.
nope.
their paradise built and maintained against nature.
our paradise is nature.
paradise lost without hope of return.
their god against nature.
against what naturally occurs without intervention.
find peace with that.
to have it all be for our benefit if we learn to fit into it.
our success is not always for our benefit as we are finding out.
to move outside our given environment becuz we have destroyed it.
and on and on.

he goes to the store for supplies including litter for the cat box and nicotine gum and paper towels.
and cigarettes and lottery ticket.
he needs to clean the cat box.
he’s taken out the trash already.
it’s a warm sunny spring day.
nothing happening in the trailer park except a neighbor got her toilet fixed.
he takes out the recycling and checks the mail.
it’s more than warm, it’s hot outside.
he hits the inhaler.
breathe, fucker.

fried egg swiss cheese onion sandwich.
it’s all fake anyway.
nothing is real anymore.
not as it used to be, if ever.
he knows nothing of the earth.
he will die when the world is gone.
billions of others too perhaps.
oh well, it was fun while it lasted.
no one living knows death.
speculation and theory.
but seeing the cycles of the universe it’s hard not to believe in continuing of some sort.
patterns emerge and disperse.
receiving processing transmitting.
or not.
he is tired anyway.
he lives his life for what it is and then that’s it.
he won’t exist.
he won’t care.

to be free in spirit.
to be free of mind.
to wander through wilderness mindscapes along pathless paths going nowhere (now here).
to worship the sun and moon and whatever else through ages of developing consciousness toward when we need not worship anything but understand fully.
these things are symbolic keys to that which we already know in ourselves.
but the doors need to be unlocked or we may not access it that resides hidden within us.
but what is it?
what does it look like?
a wheel?
a goat with a lion’s head?
the sun?

so we dive in and surface within ourselves living and dying to find out.
there is no distinction as we know it with us as becoming enlightened without the ritual rites the others love to confuse the issue with secret mystery they claim to only understand so us common grunts will not understand and cuz then who will do the dirty work while they are relaxing in philosophic leisure?
no, the show must go on.
keep the masses in line and following orders knowing their proper place with tricks of the trade to mystify them.

power is power is power.
few let go of it once they get a taste.
keep the others ignorant and subordinate.
that’s the plan.
but we take it upon ourselves to be as we are instructed to be.
we do not realize how easy it is to create magick for ourselves to do as we please.

the more he comes to think about this shit the more he thinks it’s a buncha horseshit made up by the power elite of the ages to help them maintain order and control.
it could all be about the great cosmic banana for all it means anything significant for anyone actually seeking the nature of everything and such.
so we are left to imagine it for ourselves and make up we will about it otherwise for our own purposes.
and we have found our own secret mysteries that make sense to our imagination and reason.
what do we want to do with the others whose only motive is selfish greed?
we value our independence and freedom too much to join the ranks of groupthinkers of any persuasion and ilk even if this means we are hunted down and eliminated.
they cannot abide us or anyone who doesn’t fall into line marching to their command.
they despise us.
we are wicked and evil.
yet do we continue wars for vain profit?
do we hoard all at the expense of others left with nothing?
they have armies at their whim.
we have nothing.
they do know how to organize the masses whereas we have trouble organizing ourselves?
but why should we?
do we want to conquer others to subjugate them?
do we want to build great monuments to ourselves with their slave labor?
do we want to rape the earth for producing trinkets and gizmos?
do we want any part of their world the way they demand it?
we have our own world hidden from view from their blinded eyes.
a garden of earthly delights buried beneath the waste and ruin they create.
a world flourishing and thriving despite the injuries inflicted upon it in their ignorance.
look for it everywhere around us.
it is here now.
a world that is as it is supposed and meant to be without needing to be improved upon but to be savored.
we walk in this world as gods while others live in abject misery imposed on them by the gods of the wealthy and powerful who sit in judgment.
we are deemed unworthy.
we deserve death.
it is written in their own words in their holy books the same shit over and over again throughout the world and its history.
we are evil and will get what we deserve because we do not cooperate.
but is it them who will not cooperate with us?
they beat us down to silence us and any ideas we might have about how the world could be for all to enjoy as much as it is possible.
they love only $$$ and their $$$ is derived from and invested in our degradation and slavery.
that is their promised land they reserve for themselves and set up rites and rituals for those who wish to join them who pass the tests.
read for ourselves what they regard the rest of us as being ignorant brutes deserving endless incarnations in eternal hell as our reward.
we are to be cast out and forgotten to the oblivion of the outer darkness.
so, come all ye faithful, line up to kiss the hem of their robes humbling yourselves before them such that someday you may be included among them.
hahaha.
fat chance, fuckers.
we bow before no one in this world or any other.
we spit on anyone who demands us to do so.
we do not serve or follow.
we have our pride.
we have our sense of ourselves changing becoming.
if any are to serve they are to serve us, which they do in the way we have arranged it to be weaseling our way around it.
we who do nothing.
we who laze about enjoying our life as free as can be under the circumstances as such as they are.
we will always be with them.
they cannot shake us.
we are cockroaches.
we are not the chosen elect.
we do not wish to be invited to their garden parties of self-deception and hubris they enjoy with their cutting wit they mistake with wisdom.
we are of the earth.
damn them and their dominating sky gods they worship for divine favor of wealth and power.
we endure the reign of terror they inflict upon the unsuspecting innocent kept in ignorance and poverty.
we have no love for them.
they have none for us.
we would forgive them but they know exactly what they do.
they truly believe it is their place and right to lord over us just because they can.
their monotheistic rationalogic thinking tolerates nothing else.
in that they have been successful, if one wishes to describe what they have done to the earth and all living upon it including their own kind to be success.
them and their kingdom of god.
some anachronistic ideal of perfection.
we know better than to believe.
we who are silenced unless we parrot their dogma doo-doo of lies and deception.
and their adversaries who rebel against them are not that different or better.
they are filled with envy of their power and glory and wish it for themselves.
we do not join in marching with them either.
we join no one not even ourselves.
we are individuals living in a collective based world view philosophy.
we do what we will as we define it for ourselves right or wrong it may be judged by others.
that is the chance we take happily though with great trepidation.
we are alone in a world that has little tolerance for us.
we have been identified isolated tortured killed damned in the name of their god.
fuck them.
fuck their god.
and the duped masses indoctrinated constantly through the various media of propaganda and disinformation.
a population of obedient slaves is all the lords wish it to be.
they have no other use for us.
we would have no other use for them but that they control all the land and resources such we have little choice but to remain.
where is there to go but into our heads outta our minds?
but they are now devising ways of denying us even that.
they are lords and masters of this world.
hooray for them.
we have everything else they cannot or are unwilling to imagine is possible.
we grin with teeth clenched.
this angst and nausea that troubles us in these troubled and troubling times.
but our indefinite pursuit of happiness cannot be quenched.
we are always thirsty.
we are always wanting.
we would have it no other way.
so what god do we pray to but no god known to them but to us is familiar as the beating of our hearts?
no god answers our prayers with understanding what we need beyond what we desire.
it is no god.
no god is everything.
we laugh at their pompous foolishness that they believe will gain them heaven.
we have seen their heaven and what it entails and want nothing of it.
we will live on scraps from their feast tables.
we are doing just fine and dandy.

all for our amusement

half a late night pastrami and swiss sandwich.
and tea.
a toke.
a cigarette imagining himself sitting before the computer hunched over the keyboard typing out a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet about our theory of everything.
there was no body, just a head.
we introspect ourselves from the crowd who do not notice but for worried glances our direction wondering.
everyone out for a laugh.
incredible.
from out of the sea comes the dead madonna.
from out of the closet comes the new überman.
any more surprises?
he yawns.
he sleeps.

awakening.
feeling the negative thought mind beams being projected into his head from invisible satellites orbiting the house.
what a world the future is become.
we have to watch out for everything.
be wary.
have doubts.
coffee.
toke.
cigarette.
mojo groove thing going on despite whatever.
struggling.
no beginning nor end in sight.
a continuous flowing of energy.
creating sustaining destroying.
transforming everything in a moment.
yet everything appears the same as always more or less while also changing.
victorian death traps.
poppy seed muffin.
more coffee.
fat black cat chasing paper wads.
she’s 13.
good luck kitty.
everything in a macro-world appearing as material substance occurring in the mind.
excited cosmic energies of infinite proportions.
the wink of a dead god’s eye.
a moment divided action/reaction yin yang groove thing.
everything vibrating everywhere everywhen continuously toward on and on from on and on.
there can be no infinite, can there be?
not that we might perceive as we are bound by the finite.
but we might imagine infinity.
does that give it enough to be real?
4 ginger snaps dunked in coffee.
and meanwhile all the abused sick starving neglected children of all ages in the world as he toothpicks cookie gunk outta his broken teeth.
he wipes his glasses clean.
he gazes out the window at not much going on but changing light as clouds pass by.
he’s used to things being a bit funky not working quite exactly right but still following a logical order of doing so in this supposed malfunction.
a malfunction of our expectations.
doing the same thing over and over again and expecting the same results.
we can never be precise enough.
infinitesimality disappearing toward oblivion.
void where when prohibited by law.
rationalogic law.
irrationalogic (gazorbnik) has no laws – or laws that don’t make rationalogic sense but follow their own sense of imaginative reasoning and are not punishable for breaking.
gazorbnik = fun.

twist and shout.
wiggle it about.
see what comes out.
a lamb’s tail or a pig’s snout.
or leave a trail like a snail.
he goes to unload the dishwasher.
he needs to go to the store for supplies later.
he waters the plants inside and outside.

he returns imagining sitting before the computer in this world with other worlds superimposed upon it continuing a not poem about what the fuck.
the diamond faceted play of light and shadow producing spectrums of energies abounding with fields and forces among them building the ever-changing web structures of reality along certain guidelines of the parameters and conditions of this particular spacetime universe developing by happenstance yet with precise logic and gazorbnik and the laws of reason.
yet within this reality is chaos driven energies dancing with ordered design to create sustain destroy transforming itself toward other possibilities of being.
little red rooster.

but our theory of everything is nonexclusive.
it includes everything, including that which other theories of everything dismiss as not fitting into their theory.
???
an inflamed wound oozing pus where an eye used to be and its interdependence on imaginary synchronistic quantum leaps and vice versa and so on.
the universe is being observed from infinite finite points of view from everything everywhere everywhen.
and the human element.
hooray for us.
the inhumanity of our humanity.
the divinity of our humanity.
2+2=moo.
the madness of our humanity.
everything about our humanity is what we’re here for to experience now.
us as gods at play without all our godly powers mucking it all up.
they have been neutralized canceling one another out until we are left naked to our own devices in this world.
a contest of wills for the grand prize – world domination.
or this is speculative fictional delusion.
we are human and that’s all she wrote.
we have our own selves to blame for everything.
it rises and falls with us building our civilizations.
creating sustaining destroying the whole of it transforming itself through ages of past and future more or less the same.
exponential rate of evolution.
it’s never straight up and down.
cracked broken warped mirrors in the maze of mirrors creating variations on the theme of self existing through all the diverse images playing in the light and shadow of reflections.
the lottery ticket he bought didn’t win.
choices and consequences.
another toke.
another cigarette.
another red cinnamon gummy bear.
fat black cat sitting on the chair to his right.
to laugh or scream.
the coin is flipping in the air undecided.
to give it away.
to be and not to be.
that is the answer – another riddle.
bazooka.
pi in the sky.
the living legends of poetic license discussing their bowels together according to one observer.
do we choose to believe?
ghosts waking up from bad dreams of themselves.
it’s lonely on the other side of this life.
that’s the attraction for many.
chanting om.
chanting energy from within and without.
singing the blues.
peeing in our pants.
having the time of our lives.
carted away on a gurney.
till death do us part.
this wonderful world of terrible delightful surprises galore.
how will anything be the same for us ever after?
or will we just forget?
attain the immortal boredom of eternal bliss consciousness once more.
laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
spin the wheels one more time.

great expectations?

morning coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again expecting different results.
what is the same?
what is different?
is there cause and effect or is that illusion?
he expects nothing much the same or different.
he enjoys the moment now.
no past, no future.
enjoy?
enjoy the twisted angst in his gut?
enjoy the fantastic flights of fancy?
yes.

expectations lead us to disappointment whether the same or different results.
he is good at taking things apart but not so good at putting them back together.
this is true.
he ain’t no poet (thank goodness) so he writes a not poem now at the café scribbling it down into a notebook with divine bliss mojo groove thing going on in his head for some reason he doesn’t quite understand up or down or all around flaunting ignorance as a burning flag up on the hill we are climbing together at once being who we are to become with cosmic wonder he has no words to describe along the way we wander as if seeming to be lost without seeking to be found.
we are no good for nothing.
the good folk will have naught to do with us as we are without conforming to their repeated expectations.
results may vary due to lack of interest.
be forewarned.

dripping light socket blues.
he thinks everything is about him which it may or may not be as it will.
the results are not in.
variations on the theme driven by primal emotional needs of the public at large betrayed by fate into thinking something may change for the better or worse as the case may be.
he opted out of the pancake breakfast this morning.
his baby went alone.
the others uncovering secrets of the world to use to gain and maintain power over the rest of us poor slobs malingering about looking for trouble.
he coughs and his head goes dizzy.
he steps outside for a smoke out on the patio.

words are difficult to come by in many situations like now to describe what comes to mind in flashing images in a montage of thinking everything at once.
there is not much reason not to feel that insanity is the height of intelligence.
do the same things over and over again expecting the same results that always seem to turn out differently than assumed.
he doesn’t know what he’s doing.
he doesn’t know why he’s doing it.
there should be a reason but there doesn’t seem to be.
is there a reason for anything?
he’s given up on that.
always wrong about something.
always right about the wrong things of truth and beauty.
what we happen to agree on or not.

outta our minds.
outta our hearts.
the beatings will continue until morale improves.
his brain constipated (crammed together).
god is the laxative of thought.
he knows i am exists.
he knows it exists.
other than that he cannot be so sure he knows anything.
he is i am.
he experiences it.
it is everything, if one wishes to call everything anything.
we can call everything anything.
we might call it gazorbnik.

flowers of weeds in the overgrown garden of earthly delights.
everything is it – a climax of being in full potential of what it is at any given moment.
he is lazy.
he wants to do nothing.
no one really wants him doing anything without being able to tell him he’s doing it wrong.
why bother?
people is crazy.
he steals what he can from whatever.
he sighs.
putting pieces of it together as it comes to mind which sometimes it does and sometimes it does not.
he has learned along the way no one should be trusted but the state, not family nor friends who quickly turn away.

it looks like rain might be coming.
biscuits and gravy and orange juice.
cars trucks busses motorcycles going by.
and bikes and people walking.
he has no idea about nothing much.
and here’s the rain.
just when it seemed everything couldn’t get any worse.
fuck.
satan rules.

he is tired of mystery.
he is not up to it anymore if he ever was or not.
he just wants life as it is.
who cares if it is illusion?
what difference does that make?
do we score points to win the prize to get into heaven?
he’s tired of competition among us for trinkets and gizmos and shit.
he’s tired of being tested.
he’s tired of being tricked.
he is just plain tired of the whole fucking mess of it.
keep your pretty words about it.
it’s all ugly ugly ugly.

we had our chances and we fucked it up.
this should be a paradise not some hellhole of constant frustration like it is.
whose idea was this?
kill them all.
let them rot where they fall.
we don’t need this shit.
their over-inflated über-egos while they demand that we deny our own and be humble while they parade their pride all over town.
what the fuck?
fuck their holier than thou attitude.
fuck them treating us like dog shit.
we should be treated as gods.
we should have offerings placed before us in our high seats.
songs should be sung praising us.
how dare they treat us with such insolence.
don’t they know who we think we are?
are we not to be honored and worshipped not neglected and ignored as we are?
what’s wrong with them?
have they no sense?
can they not reason?
they are absorbed into themselves with no regard for anyone or anything but self-love that is their god.
the sooner we rid ourselves of these parasites the better off we’ll be.
kill them in their sleep.
kill them as soon as they are born.
exterminate.
search and destroy.

he gazes out the window at a world of an abused paradise.
these people wouldn’t know heaven if they saw it with their own eyes, which if they opened their eyes they’d see it everywhere.
they are dull and stupid and think themselves enlightened.
what a laugh we have at that.
what a laugh we have all the time.
why should we concern ourselves about them?
they are small insignificant creatures with an enlarged sense of their own importance because they command empires and shit in golden toilets.
they are still the children we remember on the playground.
they study and unlock secret mysteries yet they still know nothing.
they are a joke without a punchline falling flat on its face.
they have gathered vast amounts of knowledge yet still know nothing but mindless memorization of facts and figures.
they know nothing of love and respect.
we should know being the ones they piss on in their expositions of truth.
but we have what they cannot or refuse to imagine – peace, love and understanding for ourselves.
not for them.
they receive our hatred and contempt.
do they deserve more than that?
why?

he comes home sitting before the computer to continue a continuing not poem about our theory of everything and such.
a toke.
a cigarette.
is he being too selfish and hard?
probably.
does he care?
not really.
what’s to be done with him?
we cannot change his mind.
he believes what he imagines and dreams is real – or could be.
he’s pissed about the psychic damage pounded into our brains with their indoctrinations.
no wonder we can’t think straight but in crooked wandering ways around about finding ourselves lost in delightful visions of everything.
it is our blessing and curse.

he lives on bizarroworld.
everything is backwards than as it should be.
and none of them notice but accept it as it is presented to them unquestioning without a thought they think for themselves to come to realize the madness of it.
too bad for them.
we walk through their world in disbelief.
are they really for real?
are they as stupid as their actions prove them to be?
the holy ones are the funniest joke of them all.
they pretend virtue while their words seethe with insults about us.
we sit in a garden watching and waiting for them to show up.
hahaha.

pretzel

at the diner on easy street again with a mocha ordering over easy eggs with sourdough and orange juice and he’s all set for scribbling a not poem in a notebook like the old days of yore but not no more as much.
back when we thought it was the end of the world as we know it which it turned out to be.
nothing’s the same ever again this moment to the next spinning turning houses with eye of golf ball and burning flags and everything like that and such we so fondly remember.
ride it down to the ground where we stand against the tides coming in and going out again.
bacon.
break it up into teeny tiny pieces of itself to recognize cause and effect which we seem unsure as whether we should believe in it or not which doesn’t mean shit to a tree.
not us.
we are barking in our assumed madness others have defined and categorized for us to be placed in.
we don’t believe in it.
social construction.
for such a society which glorifies rationalogic reason above all must defend itself against any intrusion into its claims of control and domination over the mass population who couldn’t reason their way out of a paper bag once and for all again and again.
he’s not crazy, just lazy.
he is not sane, just the same as everyone in the same situation and circumstances.

so it comes and goes.
nothing is eternally the same otherwise it ceases to exist.
nothing happens.
change is necessary for existence.
energy and motion.
transmission of information.
sameness transmits nothing of itself ergo it does not exist as it cannot be perceived nor does it perceive.
think about it.
or not.
waves on a beach.
sitting in the sand under the sun and moon thinking about everything there might be to think about for no reason than to think about it.

transmission/reception of bits of data on/off on a continuum between and beyond.
processing.
it’s all amazing.
and it may be illusion though we cannot think of a reasonable reason it should be so.
what’s wrong with it being as it appears?
why not take it at face value?
reality is what we name as reality.
what else should it be?

the blind leading the blinded.
blinded by the light.
the light of their ideal of heaven with no contrasting darkness.
don’t they think this shit out?
don’t they imagine what is possible and what is not?
apparently they do not as much as we can tell.
but they think only in terms of conflict and being victorious triumph over all.
vanquishing the adversary once and for all forever.
ha.
but duality doesn’t work that way.
it is not possible.
opposites in duality cancel each other out.
if one goes, they both go.
we have little to no idea of what they might be thinking in their childish fantasies.
they just accept what they are told about it.
blindly.

discovering new ways to it from directions they cannot imagine.
it does not fit into their scheme scam thing.
not at all.
they feed the masses a buncha phony bullshit as it appeases the mob for the moment.
the masses do not think.
not collectively anyway.
the individual thinks.
but the individual is no one unless we can think of ways to make $$$.
then we are someone who people might listen to perhaps.
probably not though still.
other than that we have doctors who tells us what’s what and what’s not in their official authorized capacity.
the party line.
authorized by the power elite who wish to control everything.
that is the reasoning behind rationalogic how to gain and maintain power.

the happenstance patterns of living energies communicating a reality among them.
vibrating waves of bits of information.
receiving processing transmitting.
it seems somewhat plausible.
more so than a god with supernatural powers and magick though that could be true as well.
it- the thing itself.
that one.
actualized in full potential.
being.
becoming.
everything and nothing and all between on continuums of existence.
creating sustaining destroying.
transforming.
what is possible or not determined by certain parameters of the cosmic program.

we sit gazing out the window wondering what the fuck (?).
a question still unanswered.
we keep discovering uncovering more questions.
people worry about truth.
the truth is always changing while remaining always the same.
they don’t want questions unanswered.
they want truth that answers all.
the only way to gain that truth is stop asking so many fucking goddamn questions.

the masses of those who don’t know how to behave, not just to obey but for their own benefit.
to do away with the need to have masters lording over them.
to be able to organize themselves without leaders each knowing what is needed not only for themselves individually but themselves collectively as well.
to rise above and jettison the parasitic pigs bleeding them for all they are worth.
he is disappointed with them all.
he had believed it could and would be different but realizes now it is probably a foolish impossible dream.
everyone in it for their own gain which more often than not they lose.
this hierarchal competitive structured society cannot endure everyone being successful.
for there to be the few winners there must be many losers.
but though it can be argued that that way is the nature of things we are creatures who don’t need to always follow rules and can choose our own destiny making up something new way of living for the benefit of all.
or so our theory of everything holds.

but who cares about that other than complaining about it?
who is willing to give up their get rich schemes and dreams of becoming part of the elite for anything more sustaining economically socially politically , etc.?
few and far between.
he put aside those things to live a simple life to enjoy and to watch and wait for others to join him.
but they hurry and scurry on the road they hope will lead them to victory and triumph.
such silly creatures more trouble than they are worth.
he knows not what to do.
he hides himself from among them unnoticed as being no one they need to feel threatened by or might benefit from or otherwise be concerned about until he disappears.

they won’t be happy until they destroy everything good or bad they make no distinction.
they are ignorant louts as the wise guys describe them as being.
they might argue otherwise but the proof is in the pudding.
look at their world.
look at what they have done to a garden they were given.
he is saddened by this.
he dreams the life he might have lived in that paradise where he would not be insane.
such a distinction would be laughable to us in that world.
but, oh well.
it is not and probably will never be ever.
he lost interest in this world as it is long long ago as a child who could see what is and what is not.
he eats a pretzel.