butterfly goat pig

x97

butterfly goat pig.
1233
dream radiations.
squeezing gunk outta cyst on earlobe.
another toke.
everything fine and dandy here now.
tuning into guru jeff – guru of groove.
tell us all we need to know about nothing.
nothing is everything backwards inside out sideways and/or vice versa and so on.
sitting before the computer hunched over the keyboard typing out not p0em.
our theory of everything including our report to the committee.
the committee takes care of everything.
we need not worry.
there is no committee.
we are them?
who am us?
don’t you know?
who knows?
not us.

VOTE GAZORBNIK
you’ll be *glad* you did

but nevermind that, the penguins are barking.
guns are shooting.
LOL.
the heyday is here.
hooray for our side!
hail victory!!

goddamn it.
here we go again.
yahoos running around the streets grabbing everything they can.
oh well.
the revolution’s here.
militias come outta the woodwork.
but are we free?
when do we get paid?

some theories hold that everything is absolutely tragic and heartbreaking, others that it is wonderfully beautiful and amazing.
which are you?
does it matter?
let bulldozers do their job.
destruction is creation ongoing continuing transformation.
until entropy draws the final curtain.
show’s over folks, go on home.
do you remember?

everything will be what once was, no more will be anything.
too fucking bad, eh?
but before all that it’s our chance to experience everything we are able.
will that ever be complete?
will everything fall short of our dreams?

dark gray morning of drizzling rain.
standing on the front porch cigarette in left hand coffee cup in the right.
thinking of nothing much.
nothing much to think of.
he farts into the cool fresh air.
it’s medication time.

why think about cosmic things when he has a rock in his pocket?
more coffee, a cigarette.
it seems to him that he was once writing about something but he’s now forgotten what it may have been.
zen.
apathy.
another toke.

sophomoric pipe dreams.
fantasy.
illusions.
simulation.
everything has its price.
everything has its reward.
what day is it?

[][][][][][][][][][][] [][][]

it’s x-day in the year 0.
that’s the ticket.
why not?
it could be.
or something like that being thrown into a world, etc.
don’t forget the quanta.
sugar shock.
sonic cannon attack.
apocalyptic cannibals.
krowd kontrol konsciousness.
nothing but drugs.
this is our paradise.
and so on.

in a field of daisies as ever was before our arrival to lay down beneath slowly drifting clouds we watch away.
to remember i am.
what would one truth be like?
there is not death.
transformations changing everything at once.
he’s been an idiot.
he still does not understand.
the least of all.
everybody else is so fucking smart.
driving tanks and shit.
masters of war and shit.
it’s all fake pretend but people still get killed and shit.
to be watching the clouds on this perfect day of a brave new world order.
we have a slot to fill and fill that slot we will.
a slot of madness apart from the herd.
no common connection to the masses manipulated by the latest trinket gizmo thing.
they’ve blank stares in response to anything else.
they cannot seem to imagine much more than wishful thinking.
oh well.

it could be everything continuing eternally from forever into forever beyond the mortal life of the universe.
vibration /\/\/\/\/.
energy ||||||||||.
the universe is a particle on/off thing gliding along on relative continuums of spacetime.
patterns form by happenstance appearing as being objects.
objects always changing – becoming.
___________

sitting at the counter at the diner scribbling not poem into a notebook as it is thinking about not much as soul tunes play on the jukebox and wondering a great deal this dark downtown morning with noisy trash trucks roaming the streets for prey about everything as it might come to mind as a spaceship hovers nearby.
he can feel it.
the universe not so much a mystery except for the infinite seeming details of this and that and the other thing the others are working at figuring out.
a continuous being from no beginning to no end changing transforming always in flux even no matter how solid it may seem to appear to be.
everything is hollow.
nothingness.
but no matter.
here we are now for whatever reason or no reason the gods and fate devise without meaning but to experience as it comes and goes as it will.
feeling comfortable and somewhat content.
maybe too much so or not.
going up.
going down.
going sideways all around.

can happiness be attained or only pursued?
is the pursuit how it is found or do we need years of dedicated deep inner reflection?
not us.
happiness is the balance of all of everything.
the living being of the universe and beyond and so on.
happiness and sorrow and everything else, etc.
dancing gyroscopic balance out of balance.

stars bursting intense light energy all along the spectrums connecting throughout the dark into webs of living life vibrations and consciousness and all that business as we fuss and fight among ourselves about truth and meaning and $$$.
he observes this madness we suffer from unable to decide one thing or another or another on and on.
he blows his nose and continues on about those who seem oblivious but maybe not.
he knows no one.
he cannot guess what they might be thinking.

angels descending from heaven to the depths of hell all part of the same scheme as always.
we should know better.
we have forgotten who we are some people thinking they are cowboys or some such.
his head quite a blank for the moment.
then they go to get supplies and then return.
sitting at the counter again continuing not poem.

what is without is within.
we hold the universe in our minds. supposedly according to some theories which may or may not be correct in their assumptions about shit which probably doesn’t matter much to a turnip on a rope.
drifting downstream in a rubber dream forgotten of when that was a usual sort of thing to be doing cuz we had no worries not like now when worry is all we have it seems cuz everything is crazy.

not thinking of much more to add that would be something or not split divided between this and that and the other thing on and on as it is we perceive it such we have a world of objects when there is oneness flowing around us like a river or something like that.

he packs up and comes home for a nap.
___________

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
it’s all fake – everything.
he pretends it is something in his thinking feeling experiencing consciousness being thing doo-dah.

feeling solipsistic.
is that the true reality?
lost in a dream to escape the loneliness of the void where/when a mad god is laughing screaming in his head.
pet the kitty.
gazing through a maze of mirrors into his own reflections this way that way the other way on and on – forever?
what fun.

is this too much to believe?
what else should he believe?
created by a god?
if god is i am.
if he is i am – or the image thereof.
imagining the image of god.
infinite existence.
infinite experience.
infinite consciousness.
or something like that.

are we only nothing?
phantoms of existence.
a god who loves us all – if we obey.
otherwise to the bottomless pit forever falling away toward oblivion.
oh boy.
fuck god.

indoctrinated propaganda in his head.
mix and match.
imagining.
if we meet again in heaven who will we be then?
meanwhile the war to end all war goes on.
hail victory.
but to be victorious we need to surrender.
surrender to our own will.
that’s what the wise guys tell us.
it’s probably self-promoting bullshit.
dreaming possible but improbable dreams.
not the way this universe structures itself at any given moment.
the inhumanity toward humanity.
who else do we have to hate but each other?
it seems we have a psychological need to hate someone.
often ourselves.
part of the karma dharma drama of everything.
sigh.

no peace, love, and understanding for us.
we’d be bored outta our minds.
we go looking for trouble.
spin the wheels one more time.
shall we sing and dance?
shall we fall down?
shall we laugh?

he sleeps.

watch out

x96

spaghetti, butter, garlic, parmesan, feta.
toke, cigarette.

having the time of his life just what it took him a lifetime to get to being an oblivious maroon for most of it but with an eye out for it and getting slack he deserves and how.
everyone else should get it too but they won’t.
they don’t know much about it it seems, just complaining about not having it thinking they have to work hard to make it big, then it’ll come to them while they waste time struggling as the master/*\overlords plan it.
slack is all in your head, baby.

(o)(o)
eye open.
eye closed.
half enlightened.
half blind.
getting around in clumsy fashion, maybe going somewhere, maybe not.
sometimes caring, sometimes not.
this is human fate blessed and cursed by gods for their amusements.
sing and dance.
fall down.
laugh.
you got it now, baby.
whiz bang, and so on.

the collective groupthink hive mind manipulated by the elite wealthy few and their many million minions.
it’s late.
dawn is coming.
he wonders if he should sleep or brew coffee.
another cigarette – one more too many.
an english muffin with peanut butter.
it’s medication time.
fixation.
hesitation.
transportation.
exaltation.

it’s all for the wanna-be clowns among us.
let them be happy, let them be sad.
it’s just part of the show.
the show must go on.
the audience is restless.
they begin turning on each other without realizing it’s only pretend.
he sleeps.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

awakening.
afternoon.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
the fat black cat sneezes.
everyone is dead.
give it up.
move on.
remember when you weren’t so old?
those were the days.
let’s live them again and again in heaven forever.
won’t that be cool?
dumb shit.

take us as we are, or not.
do not obey.
go away.
we are all we are betwixt good and evil and then some.
we seek that knowledge of ourselves through gazorbnik, et al.
we wonder what our last thought will might be.
maybe the one that becomes eternity, as some would have it.
so many ideas and theories among us adding to the confusion each claiming they are the way to truth.
truth is not such a high priority for us ourselves really.
we are prepared to have our lives been entire deluded fantasies.
we are more interested in what we are able to imagine.
what is gazorbnik?
maybe it could be it makes women strong and men obsolete.
it may fly us to the stars.
it might be anything.
be careful what you wish for…

but seriously, he has explored most possibilities he might imagine so far and nothing leads to nothing.
what the fuck?
haha.
it’s this or that or the other thing and so on toward infinity or thereabouts
infinity does not exist.
it’s medication time.
everything is .999… away from being infinity – except in theoretical ideals.
yet [infinitesimal] infinity exists everywhere everywhen in everything.
or does it?
we cannot ever measure it to determine if it is or is not infinity.
once we measure it, it is finite.
unless our measuring units are infinite.
serpent swallowing its tail and all that jazz.

gazorbnik does not necessarily answer questions, nor perhaps should it, but creates more questions from those questions asked – and answered.
get it?
gazorbnik is the real deal – maybe sorta.
you decide.
or not.
we couldn’t care less.

10/26/2016 9:09:44 PM

he paints his continuing masterpiece awhile.
another cigarette.

between sleeping

x95

sitting at the counter at the diner scribbling not poem into a notebook for the masses for all the good and/or evil it’ll do them which is alright by us at this point cuz we don’t care about nothing about none of them exactly as much as they care about us which isn’t anything important compared with the moon’s love for the sea where we’d rather be watching waves rolling in washing out in eternal rhythms of spacetime throughout the universe as we know it or not.
so he feels a part of everything and apart from everything at once and for all concerned which is no one we know about or remember at this juncture like a bass player for a country western barroom band on LSD tripping like a daisy in the sun while we imagine something else entirely like the defeat of common sense and fluoride stare of incomprehension eating from the inside out.
cutting through it to find ourselves somewhere else some other time no one has heard of jesus nor anyone like him and everything continues as it was is will be here now with no difference between good and evil but this isn’t what he is thinking about since he couldn’t care less but gazes with disinterest on the scene before him acted out by nincompoops parading so importantly while he turns away to step outside for a smoke after consuming hash browns with country gravy.
the usual business out on the street of people walking and driving by he thinks about everything that comes to mind about everything that appears to be as he imagines it being or not like patterns developing out of the struggle between order and chaos quacking nutcakes like daddy’s pants and nobody’s business into shape and form we recognize from experience perhaps undertaking the easy way out he steps back inside sitting once more at the counter.
cheap ass pen falling apart as he scribbles as he continues not poem about our theory of everything and such that goes around and comes around as we understand it which isn’t much but may be more than we think it is there is a difference between reality and imagination we are told by the wise guys though we have little reason to believe or doubt for no reason becoming it’s us against the world then we remember who we are pretending to be and everything begins to make some amount of sense to no one but ourselves thinking about the births of universes out of the seeming abyss among them that cannot be perceived by anything but imagination not being real.
he drives to get diner supplies and gets an ice cream come after they return and sitting back at the counter continuing not poem with nothing on his mind but the diamond of light projecting images throughout the maze of mirrors and such like cosmic shit he dreams about now and then here and there as he will or not at the expense of everything else maybe more practical and productive and boring when he can imagine such excitement as he might want to though he finds excitement to be tedious at best of times and it’s simpler things that amuse him mostly.
he packs up and comes home where when he naps.

napping the rest of the day across the night to the dawn.
awakening.
coffee, coffeecake, cigarette.
he needs to go get supplies.
it’s medication time.
he goes to get the supplies and comes home to a toke.
no smoking and driving for him.

english muffin with peanut butter.
deep thoughts.
oh my gosh realizations.
everything moment by moment.
no time to waste.
but sometimes all one can do is nothing.
nothing is more complicated than it would seem.
everything begins with 0 – duh.
that’s where/when the trouble begins.
let go and hold on.
theoretically 1 is impossible to reach.
infinity comes before it.
another cigarette.

and where/when is i am in all this?
everywhere everywhen in everything?
we may determine anything is 1 – or 0.
take your pick.
he brews more coffee.
we may determine anything is infinite.
we compose our own reality.
is a sock infinite?
is it 1?
is it 0?
how so?
come up with your own fucking answers since you’re so smart.
use your god given gazorbnik.
god?
what the fuck is god?
an imaginary affliction of humanity, yet theoretically possible.
is a pair of socks 1,0, and/or infinite?
is a 6-pack of socks?
and so on…
figure it out.

now, what is gazorbnik?
gazorbnik is the greatest thing we ever thought of.
it breaks everything up into hypothetical answers each with more questions than we could shake a brick at.
oh my! ain’t life grand?
wage peace acid.
room 101.
everything is fucked up.
another cigarette.
nobody is where he’s at.
but they spy on him the whole time.
otherwise they ignore him.
it’s kinda how he likes it – or has gotten used to it being.
and then some.
___________
|||||||||||||||||||||||
——————
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
___________

first, it’s medication time.
then all hell breaks loose in his imagining mind.
he can’t help himself.
turn it on.
turn it up.
all the never ending tormented torturing.
who would think up such horrible activities?
he would, for one – for fun.
it’s easy.
that same old song and dance.
we can all join in.
it’s unique in all creation.
no place else is here now.
try to understand.

imaginary sequence of events.
cut and paste your heart out.
overlapping mistaken identity.
did you forget?
now might be the time to remember.
the accuser stands accused in the shadows of light now bright as dawn.
what shall we do now?
how come everything as being good or evil he will never understand.
a garden is an unnatural thing.
nature is held at bay strictly enforced.
some is encouraged while some is eradicated.
not until it is overgrown and returns to the natural dharma of things.
there is enough for all to a certain extent.
this is how he has viewed the world since a child in wonder.
people think they are so smart.
then why do they do such stupid shit?
we are screaming, why not?
it’s the truth.
it’s the goddamn stupid truth.

follow the heart a bit perplexed.
cartoon reality.
crystal nights at random intervals in a particular mood.
perhaps we are cursed with self-consciousness.
how low can we go?

what could be better than this as it is until we start fucking it up?
when will we learn?
but no one knows nothing about it being as it should be without our interference.
he changes his mind all the time.
he cannot keep up with it changing constantly.
he rarely knows exactly what he thinks.
perhaps thinking of the absurd he wonders about how everything is supposed to be so existentially terrifying.
one might view it that way but he knows of no particular reason why he should do so if he doesn’t fucking feel like it.
maybe he’s a dunderhead.
a happily detached dunderhead – haha.
with everything seeming going his way.
like walking in a graveyard with the dead laughing all around.
they understand – nothing.
death does not impart wisdom.
it’s just another day on the farm.
oh boy.

feeling stupid.
it comes and goes.
it’s not all that bad really.
lack of responsibility.
grunt labor.
time to think about shit, if one so desires.
good shit, bad shit – whatever shit.
shit shit shit.
it’s a hit, you have to admit.

waves of joy around our heads inside out.
it’s fine and dandy.
what comes and goes.
dream radiation.
bingo.

a little celebration of our special love now.
love we do not know where it goes.
we send it out everywhere.
those in need.
but we are told we are delusional by those who don’t ever even try.
why should they when there’s $$$ to be made elsewhere?
those in greed.

when duality is all one and the same.
halves of a greater whole than we usually perceive.
to experience the world a bit different.
maybe more real, maybe not.
the 7th dream trickles down.
it’s all true.
imagine that under your hat outta your mind.
please pass the pepper.

not playing with a full deck he makes up a new different game to play in his head.
light a cigarette.
pet the kitty.
think about everything and what it might mean that he could make up about it.
gazorbnik?
why not?

becuz.
gazorbnik is not real.
but then neither is truth really.
nor anything.
it’s always a common misconception.
don’t be frightened.
reality is not real – except in whatever way it might be defined by whoever.
x marks the spot on some forgotten beach.
when the cows come home.

zee mind bomb exploding all over the place within itself to such a degree it no longer becomes recognizable to anyone concerned which ought to be everyone but many are not that interested in the idea.
nevermind overlords for what we are doing to ourselves of our own freewill, or thereabouts.
stupid beasts can’t get over ourselves much but to believe in dreaming of paradise of some sort or another.
you can’t get here from there.
make no mistake.
it’s all fake.
don’t you know?

one more cigarette and he sleeps.
10/23/2016 3:01:12 AM

hit it

x94

dark night rain.
ham and swiss sandwich.
peace, love, and understanding.
somewhere between hope and despair hanging on a slender thread of a spider’s web.
another cigarette.
what have we forgotten?

we are fucked no matter which way whatever happens.
the people and their gods have it in for us.
this from their own words.
unless we admit our errors and kowtow to their rules of order.
but we never fit in anyway.
___________

another dark morning sitting at the counter at the diner scribbling not p0em into a notebook as is his wont to do so with inked letters forming words out of thoughts going on in his head such that he might know whatever it is he is thinking if it is much of anything or not.
ho-hum – probably not.
whatever.
he continues as if.
and the cook arrives who he lets in then goes back to dreaming dreams of a crazy mixed up world as he gets up for a soda then goes out for a smoke.

some kid hunched over sleeping on the curb.
commuter cars and delivery trucks going by as they do while the rain drizzles down as he thinks about nuclear war everyone seems to be expecting to come with how the world is going with those who have become leaders daring one another to blink with über-ape logic intensity and pompous ceremony and all that jazz and hoopla.
let it roll, people.
but the others thrive on daredevil excitement of death and destruction.

and furthermore he comes back inside where it’s warm sitting again at the counter in the quiet emptiness he enjoys more than created by the entertainments of the others who have little sense of themselves while he scribbles in circles of a vortex he cannot get out of anymore not really remembering when he came into it but probably perhaps at his conception of himself to be born on a stormy sea with everyone else.

as gray dawn begins arriving he continues scribbling these words of whatever comes to mind along the way of it as it will as the server comes to the door to be let in to begin preparation to open making him a triple shot mocha as well.

1 > infinity > 1.
the infinity of the infinite and the infinitesimal we would seem to be in the middle of it all for a prime view which few seem to think about but maybe not.

he lets infinity wander around in his mind awhile while he thinks about ants wondering what they might think about.
do they think as individuals or a colony?
both?
music with that disco beat on the jukebox.
do we human folk think as individuals or a colony?
both?
ever wondering shit that is pointless to wonder when there’s a war on with people young and old getting murdered.
but wondering he does even though despite all else that can go fuck itself for all he cares which he does and doesn’t depending upon his mood swings in the sun with still a moon to be seen as it happens at times becuz it can.

or, he could be into his phone like the others faces down toward the lighted screens with videos and memes and such and sundry to entertain them as is the popular thing like all popular things and la-dee-da and then some on and on.
he don’t know what the fuck is supposed to be or not to be if anything is supposed to be anything but he’s ok with that except the others complaining about everything which he becomes weary about that he enjoys most being alone in quiet silence save for the voices in his head.

a bullet destroying the world may be all that’s left but can wait for now in case.
but he has no reason to believe anything will change and into what and how becoming something we all want and share together as if that is an ideal to strive for except it might be something such as tolerance perhaps or not.
peace?
love?
understanding?
such silly things.

bringing it down to the ground and raising it up to the sky.
dreaming.
dissatisfied but not knowing quite with what or not but still happy enough and sad enough and angry enough and all that human emotion stuff of our confusion with one another about it which is none of his business but to avoid it like the plague it is among us.

in an absurd universe he has found meaningful meaning out of nothing through gazorbnik like nobody’s business and how no matter what.
people run after buddha jesus mohammad odin krishna and all the rest or $$$ and sex and such like in the material world and good luck for them as he runs to and from himself through the looking glass to the other side of this life to find gazorbnik in all its disgusting glory on and on until the end of it all when the universe dies of entropic boredom.
but until then there is much to think wondering about which has no meaning without gazorbnik to us as he understands everything at this point which seems to becoming even more clear to him in ways and means it is difficult to explain or even describe except to those few and far between it is unnecessary to explain describe anything or not.
one more smoke and he packs up and comes home after having done the driving for supplies for the diner.
___________

home.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
he paints awhile on his ongoing masterpiece.
as dusk comes he sits before the computer to continue not p0em about our theory of everything and such.
ain’t nothing like magick pants.
old fuddy duddy traditions of yore dismantled before our very unseeing eyes but our eye shines forth to perceive the web they weave.
a new day comes – soon enough.
will it be what we wish for and envision it to become?
and what is that?
cheeseburger and a milkshake with a cherry on top.
virgin goat for those in love.
spaceship and ride home sweet home.
and so on, etc.
real zest appeal.
he naps.

awakening post-midnight.
coffee, coffeecake, toke, cigarette.
undisclosed locations.
plausible deniability.
trust us.
we be them.
who?
what?
exactly.

it comes in waves to and fro rolling in washing out.
we may explain every part of it and it still remains meaningless – gazorbnik.
each of us determine meaning for ourselves out of the meanings that are available.
do we think for ourselves?
some of us brag that they are.
we shall see.

he plugs in to recharge the phone.
more coffee.
political assassinations.
leather jackets.
masters of humanity’s reality.
we don’t believe it.
solipsism explains everything we need to know.
true/false – other.
none of the above.

it’s only as complicated as we make it.
we create the world as we know it out of everything that has no beginning nor end in sight.
damn our theories promoted as truth.
truth be damned as well.
it only causes us trouble among us.
fungus.
do one thing at a time.
pay attention to that moment passing now.
this is all that is real.
everything.
he farts.

he isn’t quite sure what it is he’s thinking at once.
anything?
perhaps not.
he’s tired, sleepy.
equal rights – ha!
fat chance.
listening to creepy music he makes to listen to when you’re on acid.
LSDNA.
(hitting birth).

mushrooms.
psychedelic times.
pulsating colors of sounds.
all that sorta business.
the same old thing.
he remembers how it’s not like it used to be – but old people always say that.
come with us.
we don’t belong here.
we are them.

as the chickens cross the road to get to the other side where life is beautiful all the time.
silly chickens.
we always get fooled again.
sky.
please allow a moment to be detected and connected please.
do you know where you are?
do you know what you are doing?
please explain.

what’s the plan beside the obliteration of most of humanity?
who needs them?
scorched earth policies.
the privileged elite in their protected self-sufficient compounds.
this according to their almighty gods is right so to do.
what do the gods care?
another cigarette.

the time is ripening almost rotten to the core (corps).
if not now – when?
whatever the fuck is going on.
just following orders.
another funny day.
thinking about death.
he sleeps as dawn comes creeping through the waning night.

awakening.
nearly afternoon but not quite.
coffee, cigarette.
ham and swiss sandwich.
it’s medication time.
nothing comes to mind at the moment.
he continues painting on his masterpiece.
then out to have pizza with his grandson and get supplies.
come home.
a nap.

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
it’s medication time.
pistachios.
pet the kitty.
kill the time.
the time of our lives now killing ourselves to live.
suckers born every minute.
is there questions?

it’s all happening.
the project ahead of schedule under budget ring-a-ding-ding.
profits soar.
11:11
gazing into the wishing well wondering, what?
pet the kitty again.
hoopla oink oink.
plagiarism rules.

remember to obey.
do not forget.
do not tell.
stay in line.
everything is fine.

please, remain calm

x93

driving down bunny the freeway of red lights this dark morning to the diner in space where sitting at the counter (1-2-3…) scribbling not poem joke into a notebook he sneezes.
all is right with the world – his world.
other worlds he’s not so sure about but they aren’t his problem except when they intersect with his world and cause trouble.
he doesn’t have much problems on his own but with contact with others he avoids hike as much as he is able to his heart’s content.
one thing at a time or he becomes somewhat confused when people rush about always hurry hurry hurry like the world’s on fire which it might be in their worlds but his is cool calm breezes and all that business and such forth on and on toward oblivion to forget everything to begin once again perhaps as a wise old toad or whatever which is no nevermind to him while pondering his navel wondering why he should be doing such a thing as that but to relax.

why? the universal question.
why not? the universal answer.
this pretty much explains everything – sorta.
not really [glibber].
who cares?
he laughs at how silly everything seems to him most of the time when it doesn’t piss him off when he loses patience.
the crime of being human.
we are all guilty.
none of us can point at another but we do.
we perpetuate it.

drowning in bliss forgotten cheeseburger happiness haha UFOs in his brain gone slightly screwy again toward heaven of darkness on earth expecting nap time excited neural matrix shaky hands coming down the other side dreaming he steps outside for a smoke watching falling rain from beneath the awning wondering about gravity and such until his head comes off fly away pig wings.

he then has to drive to get supplies.
when they come back he hangs around awhile while the van is unloaded then comes home where his heart is – except for neptune.
check it.
it’s the great big daddio-rama thing.
help?

there is no cure for this madness, thank goodness.
we enjoy it aplenty and then some.
it takes us away from the doldrums leading with burning flags hop skip jump.
is it a witch?
let’s find out together, eh?

now he’s just fucking around purposefully confusing the issue before us which is… ???
anything everything something nothing.
spacetime – is there other ways to exist?
think about it before you answer to yourself.
there are other more boring ways to exist otherwise what are we doing here in this stink hole?
maybe we’ve been trapped “down inside” a *gravity well* thing woven by beautiful ugly silicon based space spiders.
could be.
perhaps not also.
what do we know besides what we make up about it?
not much indeed.
clever tricks on meat hooks skinned alive unfathomed in the wayside of reality sucks out loud snorting with pleasured delight.
the pigs are onto us, or so they believe, like raccoons on a tipped over trash can.
the old dodge podge game.
tools for fools.
and he naps.

awakening.
propaganda patrols.
everybody pissed off about something or another.
mostly each other.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
he don’t mind as long as they do their thing elsewhere – all their dirty business.
it’s not like he has anything useful that’ll help matters – besides gazorbnik.
who understands gazorbnik, though everybody’s doing it?
$$$ driven clashing collective groupthink hive minds.
individuals duck and cover as we can.
there’s no such thing as any of this, is there?
the odd hecklers disagree.
there is a disguise for everyone.
emptiness.

it’s medication time.
then granola and yogurt in white bowl.
the demon of mercy dancing with the angel of vengeance dosey doe.
when done he places the white bowl on the floor such that the fat black cat can lick up the extra yogurt which she does so diligently then hops up on her chair curling up for a nap.
sometimes things make sense that don’t make sense.
the sense of gazorbnik.
all possible space and time and beyond.
we don’t need your thought control.
raining on and off.
what’s metaphor for what and how?
twisty turnips through degrees of separations.
world civilization.
making a big splash when it goes down.
nothing but squawk talking dumb shits to us.
we are only the same to them.
what?
exactly.
who is civilized and who is not?
those who bite back anger until they crack and kill.
those knitting watching tv.
those armored police units.
it takes all kinds to make a merrie-go-round.
oh dear.

another cigarette
squirrel!
civilization out of touch with the earth.
civilization out of touch with itself.
pave the world flat as a pancake.
everything clichéd by now.
we must make the cut deeper to the bone into the marrow.
we feel no pain.
we are insane.

one dark and stormy night on stage at the burning theater 2 gray shrouded figures walk out to their respective spotlights.

x: i feel that everything is quite absurd.
y: logic never fails.
x: that’s part of the problem.
y: what problem?
x: the problem of our misunderstanding.
y: misunderstanding about what?
x: everything.
y: yet if we decide that everything is absurd then we no longer misunderstand it.
x: in a sense you are correct.
y: i told you, logic never fails.
x: i understand now.
y: do you?
x: i think so.
y: how so?
x: infinity has never and will never reach 1 from 0.
y: isn’t that a bit esoteric?
x: i don’t think so.
y: yes, perhaps not.
x: it makes common sense.
y: it certainly does, doesn’t it?
x: it does if we understand it.
y: yeah, we’re foolish idiots.
x: and then some.

[then a loud sound of a tires squealing car crash]

y: i wonder about everything.
x: there’s a lot to wonder about.
y: it takes a lifetime.
x: perhaps longer.
y: yes.
x: it seems to be continuous.
y: the theory of god.
x: a kumquat up your wazoo.
y: be gentle.
x: what is everything?
y: it might be everything we experience and imagine and perhaps probably more beyond.
x: i think that would cover it, yes.
y: then everything is infinite.
x: infinite + 1.
y: 1 > infinity > 1.
x: goo goo ga-joob.
y: exactly.

it’s medication time.
more coffee, another cigarette.

x: everything would seem to be interconnected by some form of light or another.
y: electromagnetic radiation.
x: yeah, that stuff.
y: is anything really dark?
x: how could it be?
y: in a lead coffin beneath the earth.
x: ha! sweet death.
y: where is death?
x: i do not see it.
y: continuing ever-changing never ever repeating configurations.
x: are you for real?
y: it cannot be ever-changing and repeat itself.
x: hijack the planet from the bad guys.
y: it cannot repeat itself and be infinite.
x: i’m hungry. you wanna split a pizza?
y: if it repeats itself would it even exist?
x: the pizza?
y: the question of existence is absurdly stupid.
x: on/off.
y: a question of balance?
x: perhaps.
y: everything seems obvious by now.
x: or oblivious.
y: obviously oblivious.
x: yes, it don’t make no difference.
y: there needs to be difference for there to be contrast in order to be experienced.
x: is experience existence?
y: why not?

[everyone stands while a dwarf plays the national anthem on a bassoon]

x: as you gain your life and you lose your soul.
y: what?
x: guru jeff once told us that.
y: what does guru jeff know?
x: not much that i can recall.
y: too bad we had to kill him in his sleep.
x: he was a mess always walking around in that dirty crusty underwear.
y: it took weeks to get the smell of his stench out even after a good smudge.
x: burning the couch he slept on and watched tv.
y: that was beautiful.
x: the flames of heaven.
y: guru jeff taught us so little.
x: just what we needed to hear that we might understand.
y: understanding is difficult at times.
x: fortunately it is not necessary with everything.
y: grok.
x: i hold no truth to be self evident.
y: i hold no truth.
x: that is impossible.
y: it is impossible only to common sense.
x: whatever.

the spotlights go out.
when the stage lights come on moments later the 2 gray shrouded figures are gone.
on with the show.
here come the clowns.
please, remain calm.

excerpt from yesterday

x92

oh well.
going to hell.

meanwhile, it’s medication time.
bon voyage.
pleasant dreams.

the quickness of a doubt.
figure it out what it’s all about.
a surprise ending of meaningless pursuit for meaning?
get a grip.
get with gazorbnik.
it’s all you really need to know.
let it show.
jet planes bombing the shit outta everything.
laying in a field of daisies watching slowly passing clouds above where heaven used to be.
monkeys in space.
no place like home – sweet blue neptunian home.
where are we now but down a dead end street?
could this be the end of easy street?
he gets confused about where we’re at in space and time.

this world is not much like how anyone describes it except in parts we steal to puzzle them into our own.
a world of wonders never ceasing.
don’t need no miracles except the miracle of itself.
the miracle of ourselves to witness.
the eye of i am.

everywhere everywhen in everything here now.
what more than that?
this is what we conceive and conjecture.
do we believe in any of it or do we have doubts?
which is based on what?
how do we know anything?
we are asleep – dreaming.
this is what the wise guys tell us asking us to wake up and give them $$$.
funny.

back when everything was free.
hunting and gathering.
those were the days.
then agriculture and civilization sucked us in and we have labored ever since.
tough shit for us.

rationalogic leads the way toward more profitable schemes.
it makes everything work.
it makes everyone work.
this is their path to god and reward.
only for the do-gooders.
the evildoers are cast out.
we are them we have been informed by the media.
get ready.

but this too will pass.
and there will be survivors.
the earth reborn over time.
who knows what then?
a world of peace and plenty – if we aren’t so greedy?
can this be done?
r dreams it could be.

if the reptilian overlords would just take their spoils and then leave us alone.
if the gods finally have their fill.
if we finally have our fill.
our fill of lies we have been fed to keep our noses to the grindstones.
don’t look up.
don’t look around.
you might not like what you see.

über-ape mentality.
domination of the earth.
manipulation and control since birth.
this is their way or the highway.
the highway goes nowhere (now here).
nothing makes any sense.
but why should it?
try gazorbnik on for size.
it might be more than you could handle but there will be no regret.
or not.

gazorbnik – anything you might want it to be to feel free.
no one can tell you otherwise.
don’t listen to them.
you choose.
gazorbnik is nothing without us as we are perhaps nothing without gazorbnik.
we shall see.
11:11

wishing pissing into a wishing well.
a merrie time is had by all and sundry others as we come and go among ourselves.
no place nor time has been as this.
give everything we love/hate a kiss goodbye.
here we go.
we got nothing and everything left to lose.
it’s just a dream dreaming itself into reality.
we’ve been fooled again – again.
when does it end?
is that the joke?
haha.

inappropriate whatever.
it’s all ding dong the same.
jesus h. fucking christ on a crutch bumming smokes on the end of easy street looking over the edge into what once was to be.
jesus coughing with sardonic laughter.
no one have been feeling all that well these days.
people shouting on the streets at each other.
political theater writ at large.
everything onstage of the burning theater the live audience going wild with actors barely able to speak their lines without sputtering vomit slip and slide in velvet slippers as spotlights scan the stage looking for leaders to follow finding no one anyone might recognize.
the riots continue.
r duels with painting his masterpiece.
it hardly looks like anything just yet.
he is not surprised.
his best works were made by mistake.
he’s awaiting now for a mistake to happen.
he will have his revenge, damn it.
then he remembers in a dream people who never had it as good as this for a long long time.
as good as who?
then he recalls 2+2=cow and everything settles down.
papa oom mow mow.

he decides everything is just a bit plain crazy as all get out as soon there is a sneeze coming from the supposedly abyss gazing cross-eyed across the room toward shallow waters of his mind becoming lucid dreaming of here now throwing babies out with bathwater sucker punched right then and there surmounting all his guilt misgivings about his misfortunate behavior thuswise as it has been or so it seems in retrospectful conduits through to the soul of his heart warmed over in an age of emotional thin ice he stomps around on in misdirection in his clumsy way of being an obnoxious oaf who perhaps laughs last who laughs alone.
he remembers that he is supposed to be mad – ah-ha.
life is beautiful all the time.

dogsled

x91

we couldn’t believe what we saw – it was like, you know… ???

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
here comes the truck with the guys to pick up the trash.
it’s medication time.
his hair is a tangled mess.
signals crossed into new patterns of behavior.
always patterns.
we feel we might state that with a fair amount of certainty as a fact.
always changing never ever repeating cycles.
always spacetime.
always 0.
what next?

next is everything under the conditions we need for a universe to appear to exist in reality.
what is reality?
a question dismissed without an answer we all would agree on.
we’ve better things to think about conquering the world.
too much evil.
not enough $$$.
whose idea is this?
not too many of us seem to be enjoying it without complaint about this and that and the other thing and so on until we die.
including us included in with our theory of everything which does in fact include everything that can be included.
what is not includable in everything?
that’s what we’d like to know.
a tricky question.

he sleeps.

awakening.
he takes his meds, smokes a cigarette, and drives downtown to the diner sitting at the counter scribbling m not poem into a notebook on a cold damp morning before dawn in a land torn in a time of mass distress with no way out among available options involved but he as little attention to that noise as he has his own noise to contend with in his head vibrating with cosmic psychic energies that do not exist as we measure existence as he lets the cook in to start the day to come.
toward uncertain uneasiness long time coming as sung in songs of old forthcoming into an age of desolate souls searching for peace and quiet for once which no one can help them nor they help themselves too bad for that welcoming them to hell on earth commanded by ranks of reptilian pigs of devious natures sitting atop the pile of those clamoring for more of the same.
let’s hear it for the flag of our oppression in a land where love doesn’t last.
let’s cheer on the victors who look down upon us from great heights above who many of us dream to become while others of us have given up hope to be sacrificed upon the altar of victory.
but his time is not as wasted as it might appear to others of another ilk eager to succeed in life thinking him a failure though to himself he feels he is a successful failure having dreams upon dreams of dreaming the world as we know it dreaming a world as is of the knowledge of good and evil set upon us to disentangle them into agreed upon meaning if any might come of it.it’s in his head alive but that don’t mean shit as it never changes changing enough not to be able to pinpoint where when it begins and/or ends.
we should be careful.
we’ll perhaps find out soon enough the error of our ways – ha.
everybody among us should be happy and content at the very least as it is without all that results from anger and hatred.
is this a dream too?
how can it ever become to be when vengeance is in our hearts and minds disguised as justice?
but what do we do with those who would not conform to the agreement?

around about singing a song oaf delightful feeling joy in our dancing hearts our minds a-twirl giddy thinking everything at once and for all time that will ever be without the chains of preconceptions binding us to doggymatic thought of those who would have us down and out enslaved to the rage against the machine of their designs for power which we ignore apart from observing along our ways and means otherwise.

screwed in the head.
all is mockery.
everybody laughing at everyone else.
monkeys chattering.
it’s all too funny it seems hypocritically to him.

as he returns from driving to get supplies for the diner sitting back at the counter whipping out notebook continuing not poem for all the good it does or doesn’t which doesn’t matter to him as he writes for himself and his own sense of whatnot which is difficult to explain which is understandable at this juncture of reality space cadet dreaming of whatever along the ways to nowhere (now here) zigzag pathless paths in a crooked straight line remembering himself as himself as was is will be on continuum groove thing of his devising mind spinning twirling halo configurations of neural energies firing thinking thoughts stimulated by sensations and imagination to his heart’s content and then some on a clear chilly sunny autumn afternoon as he orders hash browns with country gravy.
he eats up and comes home.

home sitting before the computer gazing out the window at not much of nothing his mind a blankola though not really but a zillion+ thoughts at once into like glittering snow on a tv screen in his head sorta.
pretty.
flashing on/off with continuum trails.
what’s this?
he lights another cigarette.

before as the world explodes into riots.
the great cleansing.
x-day in the year 0?
perhaps.
or not.
who cares?

he gives up for now.

the doctor of space

x90

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
tangled hair.
tangled head.
it’s medication time.
what’s more to relate than that?
but continuing on anyway with typing out not poem sitting before the computer as if.
possibility.
there is everything to relate – never beginning, never ending.
as it was is will be here now.
we can count on that.
as we can count on i am.
i am here now?
who am us?
we are them.
whew.

expensive propositions for that which should be free.
walking around wounded beyond repair.
he paints his masterpiece awhile.

frying potatoes, brewing more coffee.
another cigarette.
no expression of individuality allowed.
everyone is equal, friend.

responsibility thrown into a meaningless void of comfy nothingness.
building up the military is an idea.
increasing social programs is another.
let’s all go to the beach is yet another.
shall we debate the meaning of the present tense?
we don’t havta if we don’t wanna.
just because.

mixed up confusion about the nature of reality as if it has one nature.
two or more.
everything describes everything.
gazorbnik is experiencing everything.
impossible?
improbable?
maybe.

the nuclear buttons.
kablooie, and then some.
shrug.
sigh.

who thinks this shit up?
not us.

we are them.
was is will be.
we ain’t the boss of nothing.
wouldn’t dream of it.
let them play their games of sacrifice and honor.
what do we care?
they don’t trust us about nothing anyway.
he sleeps sleeping the whole next day.

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
feeling heavy of thought like a head full of bricks.
thick as a brick in the wall.
wiped out.
it’s medication time.

everything is a mockery of itself it seems even especially when it pretends to be serious.
satire is truth.
everyone impersonations of themselves.
but this world seems to be where when it’s happening for some reason.
the drama and the trauma.
those who go along as if nothing were askew.
askew to what?
askew to itself?
everything as a dream.

who looks at this world too closely?
what good does any of that do for anyone?
you can write a book about it.
people could read it.
oh boy.
does that make us smart or stupid?
as we mosey along our own merrie way on pathless paths of our experience.
tally-ho.
the great adventure.
just to have an adventure.
what other reason is there?
what other reason could there be?

simulated adventure.
simulated experience.
simulated consciousness.
everything simulated.
it would seem to be as if.
mind stuff.
a mockery of itself – hahaha.
delightful.

it’s a hard world – knock on wood.
that from nothing is quite an accomplishment.
not so worlds composed from dreamy wisps of imaginations however idyllic they may be.
the best and worst of all possible worlds.
a world of love of self and $$$.
material possessions.
command and control.
and so on.

who woulda thunk it?
not us.
or maybe us, come to think about it.
no matter.
it’s all the same if or if not.
what changes is ourselves.
he lights another cigarette.

sailing through >>> interesting times by some means or another depending on which of us with our various diverse theories do we each choose to believe might be true for whatever reason or not.
is this common sense?
is this occult hoodwinking?
is this gods?
is it the monkey in the middle?
– what?
dig it.

MC5

peculiar instances of generalized odd behavior yet become news items across the interwebs and beyond.
hard rocking working people doing that thang-a-doodle thing.
action/reaction yin yang virtual fireworks displays on the bayside waterfront attracting quite the nightly crowds of tourists to the imaginary city where they’ve been told that it’s happening which it would appear so to be with all the staged events and activities going on around here otherwise sideways kinda to bring in the $$$.
the imaginary city is very expensive.
but everybody’s got $$$ in the imaginary city.
we’re all winners.
its golden walkways know no bounds.
everywhere everywhen the imaginary city is everything.
on with the show.
calling all clowns to the evacuation camps.
be ready.
he sleeps.

sitting at the counter at the diner with a toothache scribbling not poem into a notebook this rainy morning the abused sick starving neglected while the world is turning in the dark being lit by the lamp of the sun and all that elliptical business thereupon the emptiness we may feel during the passing of our living lives as he orders eggs and toast and juice continuing trying to think about anything relevant to add to our theory of everything none of which is relevant to anything else which can present some problems to the rationalogic minds begging at our doors with reasoned conclusions at their feet singing songs of sorrow for the masses who are perturbed by their misunderstanding developed in terms of their continued apologies for the grace of ignorance in keeping within make believe objects to worship smashed by the roadwarrior mindset crowd roaring into town taking what they want and need to get along in space and time no one thinks much about these days putting 2+2 together into cow with sparkling sprinkles of love everlasting for the moment we become aware of ourselves for a while dreaming about something forgotten which might be anything so he thinks about everything he can about everything cuz it’s fun and dandy making his head feel dizzy with it turning around around as a serpent swallowing its tail down a rabbit hole which would seem to some to be a logical way to go but he knows better by now dodging out in time not to be fooled again with useless information all around cluttering the stage of the burning theater where singers and dancers perform their tricks they have learned to memorize and mesmerize the wanting crowds gathered out of boredom with nothing else to do with their time.

it begins and ends with 0.
but 0 is not the beginning nor end as there is still always before and after 0.
everything continues.
or something like that.
there is a clue here for the few and in-between who have doubts about themselves enough to come realize what it might mean which it don’t mean nothing which might be the point of it being it as it itself for the whole universe to see flaming goodness and light attributed to an almighty god above it all on high through propaganda devised to force our minds to believe when such a thing is impossible once we make efforts to think about it if we wish to which he has felt compelled so to do to the exclusion of nearly everything else like leaders and parking meters and other so on that make incomprehensible noises through annoying noses he thinks out of all he thinks he can think about finding answers hidden in questions spoken by dogs barking flowers as is the usual nonsense we respond to on our way toward paradise unknown to anyone else anymore forgotten as we had touched it giving it benefit of the doubt.

he comes home.
he naps.

awakening.
typing out scribbled not poem transposing it from one reality scheme to another like lines of falling dominos tracing hypnotizing designs and snap crackle pop op zop stop laughing screaming in his head come out, come out, whatever it may be some loathsome bandito riding toward the sunrise as the hero who saves the day.
could we dream this?
why not?
he paints his masterpiece awhile or so.

everybody knows dinosaurs are a hoax.
we are too.
or are we?
whose propaganda do we… ?
mix and match in with our theory of everything included including everything in contradiction with everything else and/or not – perhaps.
may the saints preserve us when all else fails.
or something like that and then some and so on… !

twisted twisting rats.
memory replacement germs.
tricks of the trade to maintain power in this 21st century schizoid world.
exponential skyrocket curve.
hooray!?!

_0O0_
|||||||||||
the last time we met we had to bet on who would win and who would lose among us.
on a beach of an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
this ain’t over yet, baby.
the tide is turning?
we pick through the wreckage of our lives washed ashore laughing.
who will win and who will lose among us?
tea balls.
listening…

leaky baloney

x89

1) it’s medication time.
2) tired of drama for its own sake.
3) pet the kitty.

dreaming of exuberant possibilities in this nowhere land of nowhere people.
what happens next?
autumn leaves.
sun trying to come out from the clouds.

he must needs to go out to get supplies.
he doesn’t want to.
he needs to.
no.
yes.
but off he goes anyhow.

returning home sitting before the computer pondering out the window while continuing not poem.
snazzy.
11:11
a toke and another cigarette.
free all day and night except to clean cat box.
later, baby.
he’s on a mission.

a mission to confuse himself and others.
now he’s hungry, but his tummy is also somewhat upset.
anxious angst thing going around these days.
who will win, who will lose?
it looks bleak any way to him while others have their favorites.
his favorite is gazorbnik – yay!

the world hangs by a thinly unraveling thread.
so many dread.
but what can go back to how it was before?
who would want it to?
once is enough.
the future is awfully exciting.
what do we wish for in common?
hail victory.

to all be winners must we all be losers?
yup.
that’s the way the cookie crumbles.
think about it.
in this or in any other reality.
4) sober up, people.

becoming living life in joyful occupation of mind.
the mind is infinite, perhaps?
shattered into shards of individual finite minds contrasting contradictions in all their dazzling splendor.
backward sideways flip twisting leaps.
he naps.

awakening, brewing coffee.
a toke, a cigarette, coffeecake.
good fortune – sorta maybe.
we shall see, perhaps.
6) it’s up in the air – a spinning coin into a fountain.
flip flop.
plop.

6) everything be damned to oblivion.
unused, forgotten.
not even anything to be alone.

6) is there experience?
there would have to be not.
an experience of what by what?
8) where and when?
etc.

happy days are here again.
don’t sweat it.
be cool.
no one will even know.
they are waiting for heaven.

it’s a complicating affair depending on one’s interpretation of gazorbnik – or of a mentholated cough drop he sucks on to help breathing.
which ever way or another it works for you.
and how do we know if gazorbnik is working for us?
you’ll see it written across the sky by a flaming phallus.
or not.
you’ll otherwise have to guess, like we do.
gazorbnik is not easy.
it’s like a mixed up entangling mish mash of not much to begin with.
gazorbnik is ultimately simple in its complexity.
but we have to get here now first.
yes.

what a buncha idiots like a buncha bananas laying around the corporate supermarkets.
standardized tests of behaviorist best intentions sucked into the brain of the subject.
a clear indication of monkey see monkey do business.
generations raised this way.
and it only gets better.
then it gets worse and worser.
shadows in the cracks in the wall.
does nothing last forever?
when will we ever learn?
go with the flow(er).

he remembers digging through the trash of the local landfill looking for art.
art who?
he is now painting a painting over and over which isn’t going that well.
black and white blues is what he should call it.
no one will ever even know.
him and his busy feeble mind, and his shaky hand.
it’s medication time.

and another toke.
and a cigarette.
another loser who doesn’t care.
got cobwebs in his hair.
but he ain’t no square.
9) pet the kitty.

flagrant duckling

x88

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
and it’s medication time.
mean spirited people who want total control.
10,000 years of practice.
while the rest of us don’t want them.
go away.

if it could be that easy.
the rich and powerful we shall always have with us.
so be it.
we have our ways around that.
watching the fools who play the game so many lose.
don’t give it up.
play to win.
play to stay in the game at least.
it’s the only game around the way this world we’ve created works itself out.
winners and losers.
we can think of no eventual revolution that will change it.
leaders and followers merry-go-round.
get used to it.
duck and cover.

it’s a hit.
everybody’s in on it for it or against it.
it works all ways and means.
as long as $$$ is to be made in the perpetual pyramid scheme.
$$$ is relative.
$100 makes one person rich and another person poor.
but the house always wins – even when it loses.
even when the house changes hands.

dried out chicken.
another cigarette.
broken fingers.
a stab in the back for good luck.
infected tooth.
and now it rains.
he naps.

awakening.
toke, cigarette.
lottsa coughing.
pet the kitty.
moment of zen…

walk around the park a couple of times.
continuing on with not poem.
he decides to brew some coffee too.
and put a potato in to bake.
lower the blinds against the staring eyes of the night.

something to busy the mind into confusion.
parallel reflex.
busy as bees living inside our heads.
busy as a cupcake.
it’s medication time.

we are fabulous.
we are terrific.
wonderful.
outstanding.
etc.
whoever tells us we are not are jerks.
and there’s plenty of them around the world.
overpopulation.
somebody should do something about that.
meanwhile we keep on grooving.

depopulate the undesirables.
who will miss them?
hope you’re not next.
but they’ve got it all wrong.
we are freaks of circumstantial happenstance.
follow the $$$.
let’s go.

where and/or when have we encountered such before?
maze of mirrors subjective enlightenment.
counting the numbers.
see what adds up – if anything.
when it can mean anything.
vibrational understanding.
but it can go too far.
seek balance what we can.

delicious dreams caught in the act.
that’s a fact – believe it or not.
do we act more on belief than reason?
it would appear so from what he observes along the way pathless paths within and without.
more coffee.
today is take out the trash day.
he needs to go out for supplies too.
it’s all lies anyway.
pick your own truth or none of the above or below.
strange tomato.
doorbell.

we are here now awaiting to experience all there is to experience there is no beginning nor end.
is it happening?
only your hairdresser knows for sure – about anything.
your hairdresser is a spy for the all-seeing eye.
it’s a plot of a greater conspiracy.
if that is how you want to live with that.
but the self-importance needed for one to maintain is too much like work for us.
lazy good for nothings, but having the time of our lives.
he sleeps.