this is not what it is

it would seem that to be numbered among the global über-elite it helps to be a freemason illuminati satan worshiping pedophile or some such.
sitting before the computer gazing out the window at the rain the clown continues not p0em while he conjures more dreams to dream except what is or is not a dream he wonders.
dreams within dreams within dreams is all there might be to what we think of as reality – or not.
a fluke chance.
entangled webs of countless reality simulation machines.
he doesn’t know nor does he much care.
he just wonders about it.
if it’s a dream then it’s a dream, if it’s not then it’s not.
his ignorance always astounds him.
it makes him giggle to himself sometimes as he continually comes to understand why it must be so.
scum manifesto with feathers.
manifest destinies.
rat-a-tat-tat.
autosexual liberation on the doorstep.
shrug it off.
another dream.
another scam.
spin the wheels one more time – or not.
perhaps we’ve had enough for a while.

in a dream living with all of it with nothing to show for it with idiot grin the clown continues not p0em sitting at the counter at the diner scribbling into a notebook which calms him the fuck down.
dreaming a dream of the world unsettled and unsettling as it will be in its dualistic nature in conflict with itself and us together with it who love to hate their opposing enemy with disregard of anything else that might prove to be the result.
but these are words and words mean nothing.
he writes them anyway.

too soon the albatross drops dead on deck of the ship of fools.
everyone’s seen it all by now so what’s the point?
we drag through dreary lives looking for something to excite our hearts but all flames burn out leaving cold ashes.
symbiotic symbolic centered consciousness of heart and mind without knowing.
pretty animal lust for life living scratching at the surface of reality we share in common through the art of war enjoyed by millions applauding the death tolls of their chosen enemy most foul in thought, word, and deed withstanding all punishment inflicted by experts in the trade with those who wonder standing by in case of emergency foretold by muskrats in love.
making fun of the deepest patriotisms with burning flags up on the hill for all to see and salute forever may they wave against the darkening sky with violent aftertaste such that we never venture here again.
a crumbling wall of sacrificial lambs with hands held high higher highest throughout the land of naught.

the clown wonders about 0 – the alpha/omega of all things of a material universe slowly swiftly turning itself around until it dies in peaceful ecstasy agony disappearing from existence.
we watch in fascination from our laz-e-boys in heaven.
he thinks about all the evil he has caused others and himself in the best and worst of all possible worlds we have programmed the machine to produce for our amusement hereafter becoming what we have always been dreaming.
sloppy wet kisses for the victims of our pleasures to embrace in pain.
we are a bit insane and we do not care as it is merely a conceptual labeling device the others use to keep us down but we are not greedy and make do with what crumbs they allow us with our crazy ideas about everything and such we have in our busy minds turning with the universe.
and it’s all your fault.

the crowns on our heads glowing in the darkness before the dawn we wonder about the difficulties of peace, love, and understanding for a moment before wondering about the plight of living on earth with our collective greed wanting everything to be perfect to our liking we try to enforce and so on eating our lunch on a rainy day.
quackers disrupting wild thoughts about the dangers of living in our heads rarely venturing forth but such is such and we risk it all finding our way along pathless paths of misadventure through the weather of our moods of mind always changing la-dee-da and then some.
we don’t care about your gods cuz our god is the best there is – so there.

hip hop country western jazz reverberating through the streets while the crowds dancing in time in celebration of the jubilee as seen on tv though few seem to know what it is about.
close your eyes.
everything will be ok.
do not doubt it.
just sing along.

someplace sometime wherever whenever we walk away naked unafraid in a dream of ourselves becoming.
he apologizes for nothing as he begins again with ending.
he packs up his shit and comes home to nap.

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
pumpkin pie.
still wondering about shit.
he would never wanna be not wondering.
he would never want there to be no mystery.
truth is the end of wondering and mystery.
what a drag.
he pities gods and those who believe in them and their truths.
people will rue the time they laughed at gazorbnik.
he picks at a scab from a cat scratch on his arm and it bleeds.
he feels pain and pleasure.

pretending anything he might wish.
he hasn’t a clue.
he doesn’t necessarily need one.
he has gazorbnik.
gazorbnik is in part a way to process information that doesn’t make sense to the ordinary mind.
information that is discarded and ignored by the others with their calculated truths.
logic never fails.
faith never falters.

is everything true?
true enough it seems.
true enough in dreams.
dreams he pretends he might understand.
eternal birth creating, life sustaining, death destroying.
waves on a sea.
but does he really know or just read it in a comic book?
it is all imagining imaginations.
what is the true origins of the sensory data we receive we upon which we base and imagine reality?
stumbling through the veils and falling through the doors onstage at the burning theater the clown makes a comically pathetic spectacle of himself.
climbing out the window.
he makes his way.
looney toon illogical logistics – laughing.
waterfalls in the forest of dreams from the streams from the mountains into rivers to the sea.
everything is perfectly perceived.
when we perceive it in everything everywhere everywhen here now.
the across the street neighbor with the small black car with the one blinking headlight returns.
the clown wonders where the neighbor might have gone.
no matter.
he doesn’t need to know.
a god would know perhaps.
a god of judgment would need to know in order to weigh all our actions.
our fate is our fate.
fate driven by free will? – or vice versa?
everything by happenstance.
take a chance.
spin the wheels one more time.
will they stop on a dime?
heads or tails?

0.
goose egg.
0 =

yet there is something here now.
spaceless timeless.
consciousness-less.
he amuses himself thinking this awhile.
and the gods making love.
watch listen smell taste feel everything.
if 6 was 9.
triumph of the will.
take it all in, mix it all around, match it all up – understand.

a zillion+ kilometers away.
you’d think you were losing your mind.
picking up followers along the way.
curly haired cupids.
going where when we might freely dream our own reality.
the fat black cat in the closet scratching at a paper shopping bag of old video tapes of us playing games frightening the casual viewers offering a phone # for them to call in and relieve themselves from their distress with name calling and accusations.
he continues not p0em along the way like a dog eating its own vomit.
flipping a coin into a wishing well.
beyond the will of gods (who also must obey their fate once it is chosen).
sleeping in the front of the class.
everyone gets by their own way.
his way is no way – no way no one knows.
their concepts of reality are so easy to break but once one realizes this there is no need to.
why bother to lift a finger?
let them have their petty rotten to the core world built from and for $$$ and serve the ruthless gods invented that rule over it.
should we care?
power to the people, right on.
suckers.

he draws awhile.
then bats on the windshield.
get out and run.
your kind ain’t wanted around here.

any scenario one might imagine to be.
paranoid and/or prophetic.
/word salad.
shattering *fractalized* images of i am in a maze of mirrors filled with diamonding sparkling light.
i am = 0.
whiz kids of today.
what will they do next?
it’s medication time.
drugged from birth to death.
THX1138
on this perfect day.
in reality.
purple poodle with dreads.
a collective hive groupthink thing.
AI control.
interactive marketing scheme programs.
we have nothing more to lose but to play along.
laughter at the edge of dawn.
sometimes we feel we can’t go on.
another toke.
another cigarette.
SEX

out of harm’s way

hoping for the best laughing our fool heads off.
expecting the worst.
knowing it will be neither/both in some mixed up fashion or another.
our tenuous tedious balance to find a place where we might belong without the gawking glances our way.

the clown brews some coffee, takes a toke, lights a cigarette.
he don’t care what the neighbors say, gonna live his life any which way.
shoes/no shoes – choose.
the freedom of being naked unafraid.
will it ever come?
will everything be undone?
we shall see what is our destiny.
to rise to become the new generation of gods.
to sink into the muck and mire at the base of the lotus blossom.
four legs good, mumbles mr. jones down and out on easy street, two legs better.
everything thought, spoken, and done toward oblivion and beyond.
our great undoing.

safe place bomb threats.
the backward irony of it amuses us.
crackerjack laws supporting opinion rather than facts.
facsimile formulated festivities.
oh, look! a squirrel!

everything after a fashion.
we know who you are.
remembering.
misworded promises.
step in time.
step in line.
onward we go.

needing to believe what we believe in order to function and keep our sanity.
whether it can be proven right or wrong is irrelevant.
why endlessly argue?
but we do cuz it’s what we believe we must do.
terrific.

mistaken chicken.
some serious shit.
sitting before the computer typing not p0em for no particular reasons he can think of the clown lights a cigarette.
bending to the will of the people with many willing to surrender their will to the will of others who claim to be our leaders.
never heard of them before.
chips in our heads makes us smart.
makes us know the correct thing to do in any given situation.
that is what we want, no?
unity community.
just like on tv.
no one will know the difference.

perfectly grilled (slightly burnt) swiss cheese sandwich hits the spot.
he tries to remember where he’s at.
in relation to what?
us and them.
who is which or what?
the magick he has is the magick of madness.
it only operates in his own whirl-a-gig head.
isn’t it fantastic?
everything else is for losers.
damn your church whatever it is.
go to hell.
hahaha.

999
morning –
everything in shambles as it should.
engaged in nothing – gazorbnik.
the clown lights another cigarette.
spaces out awhile.
it’s medication time.
then coffee and english muffin with peanut butter.
ready for today’s confessions eagerly sitting gazing out the window while the guy in the trash truck circles stop and go around the park collecting trash.
there is all activity of vibrating light.
a car leaves going places.
we imagine assuming spacetime is a grid, but isn’t it a web?

as much chaos as order depending on which we perceive as what if.
flowing changing.
this that the other thing and such.
configurations of happenstance designs.
appearing as being solid.
that’s the trick.

not wolves, but vultures.
that’s what they are.
they do not bring down the kill but feed on it after.
everyone lines up to have their turn.
everyone has a stomach for it to fill.
tough shit for those fallen being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
do we need to be like animals?
yes, it would seem so.
it’s all so natural.
nevermind…

he draws cartoons awhile.
some funny, some not so funny.
take your pick.
he eats a snickers.
he’s trying to get out of it but he never really can but in dreams of some sort.
good dreams and bad dreams, he learns from both and all between and beyond.
the curse in the blessing, the blessing in the curse.
as it shall be in a universe of duality – or some such nonsense.
and phony baloney people blowing their horny horns.
it’s medication time.
he naps.

awakening.
recreating a reenactment of surprise.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
traffic jams on the interwebs tonight.
it’s medication time.
what a drag.
universal train wreck culture.
march on through the ruins of the future.
marching off to war.
the expendable pride of the corporation states.
$$$.
we sit in the burning theater and watch it all performed for our amusement.
what else do we pay them for?
plunder the earth for all its treasures.
we’ll be rich! rich!! rich!!!
how fantastic.
what a thrill.
we’ll be winners not losers.
we are them.

0 is everywhere everywhen.
0 is the center of the universe.
0 is the center of our being.
does that mean anything?
gazorbnik.
kill the pigs.

the clown burps while thinking what next to write into this mess while also wondering about the nature of the confusion among us.
we’re crowded into this world one atop the other.
who can live this way?
no wonder we’re all crazy and such.
hillbillies from saturn landing all over the place centered around venus, nebraska.
looking for sense in all the wrong places.
everyone he asks doesn’t seem to know shit except what they’ve been indoctrinated to believe of their own free will.
people fucking with us while we fuck with ourselves.
looking for pleasure in all the pretty places decorated to cover over the drab.
while nature is brilliantly beautiful.
even the dankest fetid swamp is a thrill to behold of living life.
dance with shadow devils in the bright moonlight.
laugh as they give us such a fright leading us away toward the forbidden.
can you taste it?

wandering wondering along pathless paths we pause by a spring sprung from rocks refreshing ourselves from our struggles to have come so far.
vaccinated death.
imaginary wisdom of the idiot.
does the idiot care?
it’s doubtful.
grinning drooling mouth.
suicidal madness darkening the mind with radiant x-ray light.
cold bitter coffee.
a cigarette.
a moment of reflections.
find the evil in our hearts.
you know it’s true.

the clown is amazed by the nature of his life through twists and turns over under sideways down.
when will it end?
fate takes over after when he decides with his free will what to do.
be careful what you wish for and all that noise of judgmental advice.
we’re always doing it wrong.
he allows fate to decide.
email he should be reading and following through on per instructions.
he always thought it would be cool to be a robot.
what’s the difference?
are we not automatons?
are we not pins?
halleluiahs to the highest and the deepest.
monkey see, monkey do – ah-choo.
we do too.
so do you.
but we are to blame.
others are too integrally interwoven into the economy to be sacrificed.
now everybody get in positions.
heave-ho!
together we go arm in arm up against the wall, motherfucker.
the wall comes crumbling down.
it is all fake.
we hear distant laughing.

suckers born every minute.
how does that smell?
but still space and time.
once more into dreaming dreams.
such possibility.
purple dragons laying golden silver eggs into the void hatching unto universes.
why not?
becuz?

crazy spooky music.
the kind he always craved to make his own cacophonic variations on the themes and so on.
people yelling on tv.
when they come yelling at our door.
we are them.

it’s too late to answer for his crimes.
but they ask no questions, only shout accusations.
he takes a photograph, then deletes it.
all gone.
he goes back inside closing the door behind him giggling a little to himself.
if it could be so easy.
instead he does a back flip outta his mind into his head to save his heart and soul.
another trick of the trade he learned in the navy once.
space navy maybe.

the not-questioning antics of groupthink.
puppets on strings – almost.
quash individual thought.
all that jazz.
but where’s the pizzazz?
the cracked ones bring light into the world, yes?
probably not.
who cares?

he sleeps.

x-bot

think of something.
anything.
pet the kitty.
breathe.
[repeat]

a myriad of puzzle pieces from a myriad of puzzles scattered across the floor… what a fun game to play to while away the day not doing nothing – if we want to… and if we don’t we walk away seeking other amusements and such… always following our curiosity.
sitting before the computer the clown is curious about everything he wishes he knew more about.
he makes and eats a peanut butter sandwich.
dismantle the government scattered across the floor… let them eat cake.

***********
and then now sitting at the counter at the diner scribbling not p0em into a notebook the clown wondering about what all he might have wrong not knowing what he might compare it to in order to determine if he might not have it correct.
why not pretend?
however much it seems to him at times that he may have been hoodwinked into believing what is not true but he also thinks that he really doesn’t believe much of anything really about nothing anyway having doubts about most everything including truth itself which seems to be that which we wish to believe to be truth.
yet with that stated he thinks otherwise about what he feels confident enough to believe or not is true around around that goes like a drunken oaf on holiday on ice cream cone buzzword aphrodisiac skip in time without thinking about consequential objects of flaming desires with surreal intention as the street people are rounded up for the work camps in a paradise gone askew.
it’s all a simple thing without adequate words to describe anything much about it as a truck rolls rumbling by windows rattling.
everything is obvious and not obvious whatever that might mean.
whatever anything might mean.
he doesn’t know maybe becuz he don’t wanna.
why should he?
it don’t add up to squat.
everything changing.

so he drives to get supplies and comes back to meet and have lunch with an old friend then continues not p0em.
this is not the climate for such foolishness with so many so paranoid and serious dedicated to their truths against one another.
no room for the idiot.
no tolerance for the mad and disordered.
pay up or get the fuck out.

meanwhile he sits here like it is still 1994 and everything is groovy when we were all hanging out before all becoming shut-ins.
then he packs up his shit and comes home to nap.

***********

awakening.
the same routine as usual.
people arguing on millions of tvs about what went wrong shouting over one another.
what a way to begin a new era of stupidity like no stupidity before it that we recollect while sitting in a tree learning to play the flute.

and where else to turn one’s gaze but to within when without becomes undependable?
this philosophy is dashed aside against the rocks.
but which of what is truth?
is it merely reality?
then what is imagination?
what is meaning?
how many truths can there be?
blah blah blah da da da la la la ha ha ha – oh boy.
a violation of common sense.
what they used to do to the mad.
what they used to do to the lazy.
the clown burps.
the day darkens.

lowering the blinds and turning on the floor lamp he suddenly realizes he hasn’t had pizza in a while.
then lighting a candle and turning off the floor lamp he suddenly realizes he forgot that he saw the moon this morning.
the fat black cat bites his plaid flanneled arm wanting to draw attention to the fact that he isn’t petting her.
pet the kitty.
green eyes glowing in the subtle candlelight.
he feels golden warm.
he’s got that fever.
he breathes.

incredible ding dong visions in his head of everything that may or may not be possible to be and/or become.
peoples done in by forces beyond their control unless they take control.
but who will lead them besides who make $$$ doing so and quickly revert to the highest bidder for their services rendered to impose control?
the masses are always fucked.
that’s the game they play with us leading us instead against one another in divide and conquer schemes.
it amuses them, though they are dead serious in their intent and desire not to lose their wealth and power that comes with it keeping hold for generations until a new regime is able to overthrow them on and on.
it changes nothing.
the game is imbedded within us to the core – body, mind, and soul.
it is the game of the cosmic universe itself and so on.
as she spreads her legs giving birth to a raccoon.
then while his baby orders pizza he wonders about cotton swabs that used to have wooden sticks.
the fat black cat goes into the closet.
it’s medication time.
the pizza arrives.

a cigarette after he has consumed his fill.
he sleeps.

awakening.
sun burning through the overcast.
it’s all lies.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
sitting before the computer gazing out the window the clown wonders about worshipping the sun which makes sense in a certain way.
the greatest thing that is.
giving light.
let there be light.
let there first be darkness.
and so on up until now.
no wonder we are as we are.
how could we have turned out any differently?
he understands this to some extent.
he is at a standstill.
everything seeming in balance out of balance.
a feeling to be that we are the center of the universe which is everywhere everywhen that is here now.
and so are you.

it’s medication time.
more coffee.
the sun becomes brighter for a few moments then fades.
everything changing from particle to universe and between and beyond.
we now understand that without changing there is no existence.
does existence need to be experienced in order to exist?
perhaps.
we haven’t decided yet.
we haven’t decided most everything still not exactly knowing what it might be – if anything.
but it is something, that seems to be certain.
that something may be illusion – or not.
it may be a real as it appears.
and so on.

the clown attempts to stay focused on what constitutes reality as we experience it but his wayward mind spins off on imaginative speculation about everything.
this is the place and time for that.
he thinks about the kitchen sink.
he thinks about inventions and inventors.
he had thought about inventing the electric ice cream scoop, but didn’t.
there are many many things he thought but never did.
for him it was just enough that he thought of them, then time to move on thinking about something else.
neglecting everyone he can get away with.
he’s never been a people person.
people mostly give him the heebee jeebees though there does seem to be a few nice ones here and there now and then.
he wonders about stonewall and about all the ships at sea.
he wonders about what he believes.
baby and bathwater.
chicken and egg.

it is it.
simple enough to understand but complex in meaning.
volumes could be written – are written.
pro and con.
much is discarded as useless for various reasons.
useless to who?
much is considered dangerous for public consumption.
dangerous how?
it is not it – or rather, not it is it.
he wonders about the rapture and tree frogs.
he wonders about the rock he keeps in his pocket.
he wonders about a zillion things at once.
zap goes his brain.

a fried egg and swiss sandwich.
another cigarette as he thinks about having to go get supplies today.
clean the bathroom drains.
is pi finite if the universe is finite?
there’s pi everywhere that is or perhaps it would seem only to him.
but pi is ideal, diameter is ideal, circumference is ideal.
they do not exist in actuality – except they do in a way that should be obvious and delicious.
what is a perfect circle?
everything never ever repeating.
banal bullshit.
he naps.

awakening to the same delightful dismal day with brewing coffee having toke lighting cigarette sitting at computer typing not p0em to post for the masses to ignore watching their phones and tv or making art music things happen as they will otherwise performing onstage at the burning theater down on easy street in the imaginary city for all guts and glory in a slingshot to mars and beyond coming down nice and slow grooving along on pathless paths jigsawing mad mindscapes from infinitesimal to infinity all around us such that it seems like reality we compose for ourselves alone individually together collectively with fat black cat sitting over the heating vent like a monk amok kerplunking into the sea of humanity in calm and storm heading this way in hopes of catching us unawares to the complexity of the situations we move through in space and time but waiting outside the door multi-fractured peace of cake if and only if we can adjust our position to certain wavelengths of the electromagnetic light spectrum which causes us to pause in our meditations of everything we might be able to have a care about what blows through our hair got the world locked up inside a plastic box before the decay of our supposed misfortune we reverse into our good fortune with a trick we learned in the navy once upon a time in one of our lives we have not forgotten now that we have been reminded and so on and on and on second thought we were finding out that we believe certain items found in lieu of credit chips stamped out by the great big machine interesting in its shiny gleaming appearance once we are able to see it for what it is inside the pink bus headed for possibilities of disaster on the highway outta town where they are looking for us to surface again into the green light zone where everyone is suspect of susceptible crimes among the downtrodden watch that man kinda thing withdrawing into itself in a bottle of perfumed innocence who will love the thrusting motion displayed in incremental hobo hubbubs what’s up the wall as another prospect to discover it’s a trick.

:)

yes, yes, yes – haha.
we dance and play where when we cannot be seen.
low or high – do not search for us there or then to bring your evils down upon us.
we are invisible to you even when we reveal ourselves.
our worlds within.
laughter will be the final word of what little is left to speak of truth.
so go slaughter each other.
we sit in the shade with our lemonade.
a world of a dream – we the dreamers.
truth? – we seek only to be entertained away from immortal boredom.
we are frail and weak here and spend our time hidden in shadows of thoughts like sparks of light.
do not waste your time with envy or pity.
you should continue with that to which you have pledged your honor and strength.
that is your job we hired you for.
now, get back to work.

our time is brief when it comes to its end.
have we even been here at all?
we strangely doubt.
here merely to observe, we are gone.
good luck.

the game well played is its own reward.
every hero needs a crowd to be enthralled and cheer as true today as ever.
follow if you will.
or bide your time.
we surmise everything from fanciful imagination.
we are too lazy for anything else.
this world is perfect.
how would it be anything else?
how else would we survive here?
we have our time to live.
when we die we are no more.
our time is gone that we could have been.
nothing survives us.
that is how we are known.

pigs have wings.
float about like blimps.
if the world were not so mundane how would we be surprised – with delight or terrified?
briefly for moments lasting eternal.
as thoughts comes to mind.
i am.
but i am is what?
a doodle on the waters of being.
a door to consciousness.
a fart in the wind.
another cigarette.
blow out the candle.

each and every one of us with a world we belong in.
you are welcome to claim your own as you wish and will.
but do not mistake that you speak for us and also speak truth.
we breathe.
we are among your ranks more than you might realize – or not.
that is of no consequence.
but we are known for our skills of infiltration – penetration.
a happenstance glitch in the DNA or some such even.
we become aware we are very different from the rest.
some hide this fact while others boldly indulge.
nevermind…

listen – do you hear it?
we are of earth and sky.
we are of the world.
dripping semen on cold hard pavement.
we have already been on trial.
a hot dog for breakfast.
everything the clown wonders about here now is probably imaginary.
sitting before the computer hunched over the keyboard typing not p0em cuz he ain’t no poet about our theory of everything we have gathered thus far.
our understanding is new to us now we have broken the code.
we leave nothing behind.
everything disappears with us.
the simulation machines chugging along.
more coffee.
he paints his ongoing masterpiece in black and white.
no colors anymore – except maybe blood red.
he eats a snickers.
he has gone to hell in a hand basket.
the interplay of those who believe in terms of friend or foe is quite amusing to watch them destroy their worlds from the inside out.
but what else should this make believe world be?
we believe in if 6 were 9.

of course we babble nonsense.
it keeps the others from guessing our secrets – or even that we have any.
who regards the idiot fool with any value?
we stand at the back of the crowd while they are dazzled and mesmerized by magic acts of those proclaiming to know truth they will reveal for a price.
gods love $$$.
we believe that without a doubt.
it has proven to us to be true.
though that certain characteristic of theirs is hidden from the faithful – or more to the point, the faithful refuse to see it while it lies in the open.
too bad.
but it’s important the project is ahead of schedule and under budget.
there are those of us here to insure that it proceeds steadily and quietly – outta sight, outta mind.
there are those of us here we don’t know what for.
it’s a mystery.
we love mysteries.
we haven’t a clue.

burn it all down to 0 in our mind.
begin again.
improvising realities.
we go out on a limb.
a dead end for us.
oh well.
there are others of us who find the ways and means.
but all must begin and all must end without beginning nor end.
it’s medication time.

there are those who have been concerned for us who believing we have lost our way try to convince us of their truths.
we look at them wondering if they are for real.
we steal from them everything we feel we might use for our own purpose.
our own purpose is to lose our way.
lose our way from their ever-present indoctrination and propaganda.
lose our way from ourselves who they made us to turn out to be.
others do not seem to know this.
they obey what they are told.
idiots rule the roost.
what does this have to do with us who are nobody nowhere (now here)?
try to find us.
we have changed our minds.
we have disappeared.

*blink*
_____
____
___
__
_

:)

a hideous doubt riots the suitable questionnaire inside the truth

awakening.
bright autumn morning.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
continuing not p0em of fragmented thought galore.
while they think like a bundle of sticks.
look how proud they are.
they will struggle to take over the world.
this from what we observe and report to the committee.
we change continually like a river steadily eroding their rock of reality.
the sky is not yellow as the decadent would have it.
why should we care?
too many people causing trouble as it is, in our opinion.
playground bullies grown up to be role model citizens.
but surreal happenings deciding otherwise.
their world is a monstrosity of colorful drab designs.
we’ve fallen into a trap we devised for ourselves.
but bright is our worlds in our imaginations.
we ask for no more.
we perceive the garden beneath the rubble.
this means nothing to them with their endless industry.
and those who would come together are kept apart for the glory of war still desired.
we rest in easy foreboding comfort.
the wounds that heal themselves.
we need no magick.
those who scorn us disappear on their own without us lifting a finger as they find better things to do with themselves wrestling with their might against one another to determine who is best.
we are the worst.
we do not fit in with their plans nor do we wish to.
their great achievements are nothing in our minds.
pet the kitty.

the end is near they all proclaim.
let it be.
we have let go long ago.
and there is nothing left to hold onto.
there is nothing we possess and own.
across the spectrum of their similar philosophies is no room for us.
oh well.
let’s go to hell, that great underworld of endless wonder as near as we can tell.
the screams of horror of those abandoning hope into that abyss.
we have been threatened by these stories as far back as we can remember to get us to behave as expected.

but we dream.
we dream a world – the best and worst of all possible worlds.
we are a fly in the ointment.
everything would be perfect otherwise – haha.
that’s the plan.
this is the way we devise it to not let them settle in but to always entertain us.
this is our conceit.
this is our mission.
what is engraved in stone is worn away by the dust of the winds.
our minds changing like slow motion cracked eggs to make an omelet.
is it any wonder they call us mad – insane.

eating pistachios awhile needing to take out the recycling the clown thinks how clueless he is in respect to those bragging they know shit.
this doesn’t seem to matter.
the moon orbits the earth anyways – maybe.
he is unimpressed.
but the fun and games are over.
everything is silent – mourning.
we reflect the diamond shattered light from the maze of mirrors in our minds.
it tickles our fancy.
there are any number of explanations murmured among the crowd packed into the burning theater to see the latest show on ice performed by people bound in heavy chains linked together slipping and sliding hoping all don’t fall down.
no sacrifice too great it would seem to anyone who cared to watch the scene developing into hilarious punctuated reason to give up and go home.
what our experience was is will be is for us to wrestle with trying to describe when language seems to work against us making absurd mockery of our efforts.
whatever.
anything could be true.
we decide which direction to go from here now.
more coffee, another toke, another cigarette.
let’s pretend to forget in order to pass the time and the test given at the doors of perception once in a random while you were gone the dog was barking as living proof of our denial in veils of illusions wafting in the cosmic winds.
say, hey!

the clown has a list of things to do he’s been putting off for a week.
reality can suck it long and loud.
it begins with everything is nothing and goes all downhill from there to nowhere (now here).
thank you, jesus.
logic turns into a pile of worms we can no longer follow to its end without end.
intuition is tricky.
massive quantities of data is still coming in.
time for a snickers.
o’ to believe…

he dreams a bit about riding a horse.
everybody’s got theirs.
hold on, here it goes.
cameras in every room.
who’s watching who?
this strange reality he explores and wonders about having been cast on a restless sea.
it takes some sorta contrast for anything to exist, right?
from simple on/off to spectacular continuums of near infinite possibilities.
he cringes a little giggling to himself suspecting a knock at the door.
fearful work camps.
glory holes.
praise allah.
where does the finite end and the infinite begin?
at 0?
perhaps.
his mother told him he’d go crazy thinking like this.
he always wondered what going crazy would be like.
he dreams a bit about skinning a cat.

the habit of pain.
fearful hateful people.
70% charge on the phone.
he wonders what he should eat next – if anything.
we find him paralyzed in thought.
everything changing.
we try to invoke a state of mind with what we are doing probably without success.
such is fate.
everything goes on as it was is will be.
the great gods of the sky always pissed off about something.
when will they ever learn?
he puts in some laundry into the machine in reality – he thinks.
when will he ever learn?
yeah, yeah, yeah – the glorification of the mighty.
hooray for them.
it’s a joke, right?
we all go home after the various celebrations and festivities endured in their honor are finally over and done.
what else is there?
sleep is good.
before everything is gone.

high culture of constant war without end.
he sighs.
they all drool with it jerking themselves off to the visions of death and destruction to their despised enemy in the looking glass.
oh boy.
über-ape fantasy dreams in command and control of their fevered hearts and minds.
stupendous.
this is as far as they are able to groupthink.
he walks away shaking his heads down through the brambles on his way onward.
let them have their little world of limited imaginations.
he has a universe at his fingertips realizing he understands more than he knows.
or maybe he is crazy.

it’s medication time.
everybody wondering worrying what’s going on.
it’s all black and white – the time of the season.
there is no middle ground to tread.
we sit and wait and falling into a dream we dive below the waves into a sky of stars awaiting our return – but not yet.
we live and learn.
could it be any more beautiful than this?

xix hwtuq

strangely sitting before the computer as it becomes dark outside hunched over the keyboard typing not p0em.
our theory of everything.
report to the committee.
anything we want it to be.
a serpent swallowing its tail around around twisting spacetime vortex circus ride down a rabbit hole – wheee!
correct us if we’re wrong.
this is what it is and there are reasons for it that should be too obvious to explain.
it’s medication time and to clean the cat box and smoke an 8th cigarette.
eating a fun size snickers.
off with our heads.
the gathered mob cheers.
the clown is already dead inside while wondering about the agents of fate.
sleepy gods yawning – snoring.
they have seen it all before.
what’s the point anymore?

the fat black cat pukes her recently gobbled food – lovely.
the abscess in his ear lobe is receding.
life goes on unexpectedly.
looney toon times.
he lazily dreams another dream about everything $$$ can’t buy.
his life gone to waste in another’s mind.
no excuses.
going out to go get chinese.

in their heads everything is right or wrong.
what a way to think.
plucking nose hairs in his spare time.
more coffee.
another cigarette.

are we too rough and crude for the special select elite among us?
fuck them in the bum with a red hot barbed wire dildo.
haha.
they just don’t get it.
look down their sharp noses.
he coughs lightheaded dizzy.
flamingo cha-cha hats on sale one day only.
another toke while we watch the riot slowly begin.
all this and more onstage at the burning theater where has-beens get another chance at romance.
clap and cheer, boo and hiss – enjoy the show, it never comes around again.
ongoing continuing ever-changing theater.
emptiness.
a person costumed as a turnip skips across the stage stopping before teetering over the edge into the abyss as a marching band marches down the aisles playing everybody’s favorites the audience sings along.
meanwhile in the dank dark basement bathroom a deal is being made in one of the stalls.
cigarette butts for a deflated purple balloon.
everything is part of the show.

the clown likes thinking about everything he can imagine at once.
he wonders what all of it is.
but the others are working on figuring that out.
we still don’t know anymore.
we don’t agree on nothing.
when everything we think disappears.
have we lost it or found it?
it is it.
let’s not complicate matters.
threading needles with camels.
a machine does the trick.
know what you doubt.
doubt what you know.
words are easy yet complicated with their entangling meanings.
joyful celebrations for the beginning of the end.
tomorrow we may understand differently.
will it matter?
are we not allowed to change our minds moment by moment?
blabbering idiots.

the clown sleeps.

awakening at the dawn.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
basking in cosmic waves not knowing what.
following instructions.
DNA masquerade.
keep your lamps trimmed and burning.
the trash is put out waiting to be collected.
big heaping piles of it.
dig it.

obsessive compulsive writing on the wall he feels is funny.
perhaps for the wayward wandering passer-by along on their own pathless paths.
there’s too much that don’t add up the way we’re told or not.
don’t you think?

gleaning through the fields for what has been left behind.
everything is new to us.
everything is a test.
meat festival.
share the daily bread and wine.
it’s medication time.
what shall we think today?
what shall we wonder?
he should do laundry but the fat black cat is curled asleep in the basket in the closet.
do not disturb.
we are anywhere anywhen.
we might be sitting next to you.
would you know?
we are deceptions among you.
look, a squirrel.
we are squirrels.
programmed to survive.
nuts.

until beatniks ruined everything up to their dirty tricks.
still today in the future darkened by the past.
what’s your beatnik name?
take the quiz to find out.
it’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye watching all the time.
there’s something funny always going on.
we may have made a dreadful mistake, if not more so.
we’ll see if anybody notices.
probably not.
not that would be revealed.
there’s magick in that.
everything hidden.
finally the trash truck comes around though it’s pretty much on time on what is turning into a sunny morning but cold.
a choice victory.
the sad faced man in rain gear.
up down up down up down we go.
i am is bright as the darkest invisible night safe as freedom.
the natural nurturing hand.
we dwell on all things we encounter secretly aside.
i am is our guidance and our reflection.
i am that which is behind everything.

what we know couldn’t fill a thimble.
what we believe vanishes into the void.
what we are we are continually discovering wandering aimlessly through the mysteries of a boundless wilderness.
to reach the oblivion of bliss.
to give it a kiss.
then to piss on its grave.
laughing all the way much to our disgrace all over the place.
who would trust us now?
who would trust us before?
we work it out that way.
laundry is up next.

from a unique perspective among billions of unique perspectives relative to one another.
how many times he’s been told to straighten up and fly right.
he laughs at remembering.
___________

sitting at the counter at the diner scribbling not p0em into a notebook wondering about all what he doesn’t understand correctly which is maybe everything or close to it as it might get though. the clown wonders what measure of correctness is being used and by who and how and why… ?
logic never fails?
in some cases, yes.
or perhaps not.
mystical magick in his head, or so he imagines in his spare time which is all the time now that he is free of time.

blank of mind.
blank of thought.
feeling heebee jeebees dancing in his brain and whatever else he cannot explain.
but there is a place and time here and now it all goes away like cotton candy dreams.
nothing ain’t what it seems.
the vague temptations of strange to arrange the ways of the heart in different directions from now in easy action device machine dripping snot and drooling words that don’t make sense which is important as the strong and eager win the day away from everyone else who are lazy and wanna be left alone but will never be.
we walk through it unnoticed to observe and report to the committee while wearing our halos on a bit sideways meaning nothing to anyone.
caught in dreams always again.
we can’t help it.
this is who we are in this world that would not be without us and our becoming with it in sorrowful joy remembering nothing else in visions of a reality as we know it.
we find it where/when we are here now broken on distant shores under a shining sun while it rains on our heads turning away from the others while we construct shelter from the storm as imagination will have it.
where have we gone wrong perhaps to be in a world of alluring happiness we seek to possess unknowing that is not the way the game is played but better yet to have happiness just out of our reach such that we can be led with our protests otherwise?
$$$.
everybody wants it all.
he’d rather do without it.
too confusing.
[insert saxophone solo here]
he still wonders about tree frogs in the grand scheme of things along with junkies on the other hand throughout.
he remembers living with 2 junkies before they kicked him out to go back to his broken down van.
he remembers cute pictures of colorful tree frogs balanced on branches.
he packs up his shit and comes home.
___________

ps –
coffee, toke, cigarette.
dystopian paradise.
hi-jinks all around.
look at us.
silly monkeys who built their own zoo.
nevermind.
we are pleased as punch beating judy.
we are joyful idiots for sure.
krypton days are here now again.
what does that ever mean?
take a guess.
interpret as you will – or not.
the shadow government grins.
die, people, die.
the clown boils water for spaghetti.
plugs in the phone to recharge.
gets a call from the pharmacy that his prescriptions are in.
people who are violent and those attracted to them.
another cigarette.
it’s medication time.
looking back in time he thinks of no other way this world could have been avoided.
suckers willing to be suckered and those willing to sucker them.
and those who couldn’t care less.
he has a snickers after finishing the spaghetti.
all gloom and doom – haha.
he doubts that.
business as usual but more so.
put on your happy face.
go to your happy place.
but we will find you out.
another cigarette.
everything into the mix and match machine.
everything to become one for all.

a new day arisen

how does he explain?
who does not know already how it is with us?
do we even know?
who am us?
scattered individuals tuned to the same channels in our heads.
the funny thing about peace, love, and understanding.
the wolves among us haven’t a clue.
they just howl at the moon.
the magick of being nothing we possess alone.
they unknowingly pass us by.
we see them everywhere.
they are quite common among the common masses.
but they pretend otherwise.
we laugh silly behind their backs.
they do not care, or else they do not know.
what does it matter?
we move on with tricks up our sleeves.

he paints an ongoing masterpiece.
he makes music to his ears.
he blows his nose.
there is housework to be done, supplies to be gotten.
he has found the simple life he dreamed.
complications of thought and imagination intrigue him now.
he is touched – touching.
not knowing who or what to thank for this blessing.
he was lazy and stubborn until we got it.

secret voices singing divine revelations.
listen closely in your mind.
or go out and play some golf.
meditate on the moment whatever it might be.
is there a single moment?
a single moment of infinite separate interconnected moments into webs of time or some such.
imagining what of everything that we are able to here now.
wondering meandering thinking thoughts passing by.
existing in a foundation of space and time.
thinking is neuro-electrochemical sparks in the dark creating a mind aura energy thing.
eat your carrots.
action/reaction yin yang disco boogaloo.
is this supposed to be funny?
perhaps it is not.
maybe it’s dead serious.

dead serious people.
avoid at all costs.
trouble.
danger.
laugh it up.

1/2 a loaf is better than no loaf at all – guru jeff.
wake and bake.
coffee and coffeecake.
a cigarette.
it’s medication time at last.
numbers racket.
surgically deformed ugly beautiful people of the rich and famous.
no holds barred fights to the finish.
it’s all a scam anyway.

he meditates upon the sacred cosmic donut.
it is round and golden glazed sweetness with a hole in the middle.
fucking perfect.
we imagine what we will for our own purpose.
it has nothing to do with the others.
nor would they want it to.
it is foolishness – a mockery.
let them have their secrets as we will have our own.
they claim everything.
we claim nothing.

stop the scary clowns.
they don’t want scary clowns in their towns.
they’d rather wolves at the door.
that’s how scary the clowns are to them.
who are the scary clowns?
anybody? nobody? everybody?
they must be somebody, right?
arrest them all and we’ll find out.
then we will have our sweet revenge.

our way is no way to be.
apply yourself.
read only good books.
succeed.
put on your roller skates and lick it up.
join the fast lane.
they’re going places.

a nap.

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
happy days are here again.
it’s medication time.
1000s of years of study and examination of everything in the universe from infinitesimal to infinite.
the answer is cheeseburger.
duh…

the continuing war to end all war.
war in every household.
war in the streets.
do we just become numb?

pet the kitty.
laugh at the world so absurd and frightening.
it never changes.
he plays some of his crazy music as background to his thinking on the matter.
cobwebs in his mind.
he knows next to nothing according to his calculations.
2+2=cow.
but he understands his ignorance taking it into consideration thinking he’d rather be ignorant of what he is ignorant about than ignorant of what the others seem to be ignorant about.
he pretty much slept all day.
he’s in no hurry to get somewhere – anywhere.
he is already here now with everything everywhere everywhen.
another cigarette.
waiting for catastrophe while whistling another tune.

pep rally politics.
rah! rah! rah!
hail victory!
etc.

the great cthulhu in a jar on a shelf awaiting further study.
the puppet strings.
reconciliation between good and evil in our minds to perceive the world as is.
we give up.
what is the use?
too many forces set against us for $$$.
we have nothing.
despondent moods awakening within.
tangled matted hair.
goose bumps.
joyful excitement.
dancing in the streets.
which is what?

gotta get this shit outta our heads.
find something that makes some amount of sense – like, gazorbnik.
don’t be misled away from yourselves.
not like that last time – do you remember?
1 > infinity > 1.

words of fame and fortune – proud honor.
how many he has seen go on like this as if it matters.
valiant days of yore in mythologic daydreams of praise.
we go where we want to stumbling along the way.
still we are nowhere to be found.
why should we confess anything?
not to you.

don’t take it personal but we just don’t believe you.
no proper order of things divine.
there is no cause for alarm.
this just relates our changing mood of mind.
we pass the time any way we feel it to be.
we change nothing not wanting anything changed.
our world is secure enough as torn and flimsy as it is.

this is not for you.
is it for anyone?
let it rot where it falls feeding the earth.
yes, we come here.
we come to laugh foolishly at ourselves.
we who do not belong among those who envision themselves superior.
we sigh.
is there no escape from it – them?

but wait…

oops…

x99

oops…
it seems something went wrong according with our speculations about everything in our opinion.
but wrong often turning out to be right after all.
should we suspect anything less?
living in a dream floating downstream.
it’s not what we know but what we understand.
he feels he understands why everything is as it is and has to be as it is according to our theory of everything he types out as not p0em.
he doesn’t know shit.
so it goes like that.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
it’s medication time.
pet the kitty.

to continue on with anything it seems is madness.
we should know better.
breathing in.
breathing out.
the feeling of being observed.
is this a test?
he continues to fail.
maybe that is the ideal purpose.
true confessions.
nitty gritty oh là là.

the physical world is cumbersome to those in dreaming possibility – and how.
misplaced misfits around the world.
anything doesn’t matter when as much as it matters if.
more coffee.
but we need to be distracted from our thoughts or we’ll be sucked into our heads and never come out.
it’s a constant struggle.
why? o’ why?
we imagine it with no meaning using our gazorbnik.
it may not be the only way but it is our way.
the crazy way we drive ourselves onward toward oblivion when it all goes away.
alone again – laughing screaming in the void inside his head.
spin the wheels one more time – or not.
just sit.
the jewel of the lotus projecting out universes for us to play in.
the maze of mirrors.
the exact center – here now.
and all that jazz, etc.

the difference between self-pity and being realistic.
we assume neither and none.
when it’s all over we probably will still not understand.
billions of peoples making decisions and taking actions.
waves and tides of a restless sea.
moon presiding.
it makes us wonder.

individuals deciding and acting in conjunction with collectives reacting for or against the status quo among other determining factors involved in the situations they find themselves in all over the place.
he puts out a cigarette.
he seems to have a twisted twisting feeling for the fate of the masses at large wondering how everything will fare in this best and worst of all possible worlds.
it’s up to each of us to find our way through it around it under it over it however we might choose.
action/reaction yin yang-a-doodle-doo.
the goddamn blessed thing of it.
remember, we know nothing.
but we understand.
or not.

our understanding does little good for us in the real world but little harm as well if we keep our out of balance balancing juggling act together.
who knows whatever outcome?
who thought we’d make it this far along?
the events of fate and how we react to them determining further events.
choose your own adventure.
a zillion+ worlds.
worlds forever taking shape and form from the actions of our desires and/or fears and all between and beyond and such like.
for want of a nail.
goat.
and he wonders if ZOG is true.
it’s ok by him if it is.
though it’s always only part of the story.
who knows the truth of it?
is there truth or only what people make it up about?
the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
what a concept.
helicopter circling the sky.
has it begun?
there is always that possibility.
there is something in cheez-its we are advised not to ingest.
he has forgotten what it is but there is something always in everything.
we are being poisoned for no other reason than the greed of others and so on.

he votes gazorbnik putting that energy into the mix while wondering about things that are square.
then wondering about things that are triangular or round – whichever comes first.
coffee, toke, cigarette as dawn comes creeping.
the sun millions of miles away.
how fantastic.
everything happening by chance happenstance over billions of years to him is more amazing miracle than by the designed will of a god in the matter of days of a week.
stories for children to believe and others of limited comprehension which a given lifetime of experiences may remedy – or not.
he eats a snickers.
it’s medication time.

are things actually square or triangular or round or any other particular shape?
yes, they are – but – no, not really.
take a guess – it’s all we can do.
sun in his face while typing out not p0em.
pet the kitty.

secret recordings of everything everyone has ever said or done – or even thought about.
confess now.
be the 1st among your friends.
understanding the true nature of our crimes is the 1st step.
but this is other people’s concerns, not ours.
ours is to wonder about everything whether we are right or wrong or not.
it takes persistence and lack of good common sense and reasoning to have faith in our doubts as we doubt our faith.
serpent swallowing its tail.
which way does it go?
is it coming or going?
everything cancels out everything else but for the moment are kept in check and balance on the edge of annihilation.
from 0 it comes, to 0 it goes – or vice versa.
at this point what is truth or not?
many feel truth is what is left unchanged and unchanging.
what is left unchanged and unchanging is dead.
it is dead to the point of not even existing.
so there.

we often think mostly in such banal mundane ways about shit.
little to no imagination.
accepting how everything appears to be and believing that is how everything must be.
and we wonder why everything we do seems so outta whack.
we have no ideas otherwise.
but none of this is true.
just something he rants on about without thinking about what it might mean.
just like everyone else.
but is that any excuse?

a nap.

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
ho-hum.
the same old poet’s tale of wolves and sheep again.
when will they ever learn?
creatures of habit are creatures of habit.
like the bird that is not free just becuz it can fly.
he’s glad he’s not a poet to believe in such.
the same with all the romantic idealism the poets implore us with.
depart from us, you damn fools.
get off our lawn.

he is broken.
cannot be fixed.
doesn’t wanna be fixed.
likes it as is as he always dreams about.
he ain’t correct in the head.
always has it wrong.
but he is beyond that now – untouched.
everything is too fast for his slow brain.
but he catches on eventually – long after it does any good.
he nukes and eats hot dog.

he lights a candle for ambiance.
dark shadows appear.
he lights a cigarette lazy and ignorant doomed by all accounts to low murky waters while the enlightened rise to high heavens.
hooray.

we always lose and there ain’t nothing we can do about it but to become as greedy as them.
simple as that.
but we don’t care.
apathy is our middle name.
the game is rigged.
the house always wins.
as we dream it away.

creepy crawling around about taking its time with an idea about it coming to mind not knowing exactly what it might be as he thinks other thoughts part in a dream now and then and again in a memory cracked open on the rocks like a baby’s head below consciousness we delve for more information about ourselves as if we knew what to do about the information we have already received through gazorbnik along the way on pathless paths toward oblivion and beyond in our imaginations with a whole lotta noise going on with bright angels dancing with shadow demons on the sidewalks of the imaginary city where everything is happening and nowhere else that could be.
we can dream about that which will never be while the reality machine grinds us down into the ground while we fly away – haha.
reality is a joke upside the head.
death erases everything no beginning no end continuing forever as we dance twirling through it all in mystery unfolding revealing the meaningless truth as if that matters to us just here now enjoying the show.

no – nothing.
nothing is true or real in our world.
our world is not a world but a way of being always changing transforming while their world is an obstruction putting out the big beat.
napkins.
he doesn’t know what the fuck.
suspecting no one else does either but fake it convincing others to believe.
worlds go around.
refusing to take anything seriously as others want us to.
not even our theory of everything.
not even gazorbnik – especially so.
putting everything into play to witness the results cuz it’s all crazy.
crazy to the point of perfection.
crazy, baby.

what else to do but take a distantly removed view of everything?
not getting involved in the madness surrounding us.
what will we gain but grief and misery?
it just ain’t worth it.
we observe and report to the committee via not p0em written by a madman in thin disguise.
it breaks down in a dream the false pretense of insanity encouraged by others as it is their invention to weed out undesirables for no other reason looking the other way.
he makes it through to the other side of this life when it makes sense not making sense he lights another cigarette.

as a spaceship hovers nearby he is thinking about the fantasy dreams he had been dreaming about being this or that or the other thing until everything passes him by without him noticing and here he is now happy as a clam painting his ongoing masterpiece and stuff whatever passes through his mind in the moment discovering himself as being no one.

laughing.
he doesn’t know what to think about what he is used to thinking about what has meaning.
nothing has meaning, yes?
meaning has no meaning, no?
the clock on the wall.
the laughing becoming louder.
he is amazed by what others appear not to notice – but maybe they do.
what does he know?
it’s medication time.
more coffee and coffeecake.
dog whistle call to arms.
another cigarette.
living in interesting times.
cool, daddio.

who is not guilty of what crimes?
we cannot name them all.
step forward.
claim the prize of stars above.
sacrifice is not an option.
move up a level in the cosmic game.
believe it or not you have gone insane.
now point to which witch is which while the magick music plays in our heads.
all sit down.

this is spooky.
fear not, little people.
look how far we’ve come so far, if you will.
but look how far we’ve fallen behind in our efforts to gain slack.
work for slack?
what?
silly.

but there will be those who try to convince us of this truth.
laugh it away.
it won’t be easy but we find our ways and means.
slave encampments.
disenfranchised destitute wanna-be.
everything as predicted at once.
hear the shouts.
it is difficult to come to realize who we are might become.
garbled logical fallen remains.
and then we die.

guess again

x98

hello?
anybody home?
is everybody dead in the mind zone?
sitting before the computer hunched over the keyboard typing out not p0em for the masses, he wonders.
wondering where the masses are at – anywhere?
he doubts it.
no wonder they get fucked over.
our individuality does not give us a free pass.
we are as much the masses as anyone else.
on beyond zebra gave him his first clue of the game they are playing on us that they get us playing on ourselves.
he surmised that they weren’t telling us everything.
what was being left out?
he was told he had potential.
potential to be another sucker to be used.
if he just apply himself to other than dreams.
dreams away from the confusion of their reality bereft of meaning.
___________
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
|||||||||||||||||||||
**************
follow the heart to the sky.
no longer ask why.
it will take its time to reach the sublime.
then crash to the depths of hell.
oh well.

it’s medication time.
the trucks start coming in to pick up trash, recycling, yard debris.
he lights a cigarette.
people off to work and such.
he listens to the celestial spheres scraping.
more coffee.
he farts.

he goes to the doctor, then some thai, then comes home and naps.
awakening.
a cigarette.
off to get meds and supplies.
come home to a toke.
pet the kitty.

he should walk around the park a couple of times if he can.
all he does almost is sit.
fat wheezy old man.
hooray.

greed, inc.
the highest towers.
but we know about that.
now what?
now what is now… now… now…
ever flowing to the sea.
a sea of possibility.
the sea is humanity.
receiving transmissions floating in the ethereal void or some such.
awaiting our arrival?
perhaps.
anything is a possibility depending on which reality we choose – or that chooses us through karma and/or fate.
living in interesting times.
yahoo.
gazorbnik.

RIP guru jeff, guru of groove.
by dawn’s early light.
march of the pompous assholes.
hybrid mutations.
frustrated federal political prosecutors looking into rabbit holes.
digging that crazy scene, baby.
he wonders what he should be otherwise doing than this supposedly nonsense.
eating a hot dog as it turns out.

what may or may not be reality as we each decide while lacking sufficient information.
how can so many people be so wrong as to believe what they think is right?
uptight.
outta sight.
uhn uhn – you got it, baby.

uneasy business it seems everywhere mixed up in everything.
rocking our world.
nazi/zionist illuminati reptilian alien secret chiefs.
manipulation and control.
but we know about that.
nevermind.

dropout society.
who cares?
a lemonade stand everywhere you look on easy street.
not necessarily this, that, or the other thing.
everyone on the go with the flow.

onstage at the burning theater everything turns from yin to yang within and without for a moment then back again repeatedly.
2 persons labeled x and y come out and sit and kick back in laz-e-boys.

x: so where we at?
y: in a dimensionless void.
x: you think so?
y: i have observed this very carefully and i believe i am correct.
x: how do we get out?
y: there is no out, only in.
x: is that the way out?
y: it could be.

the masters of reality chuckle up in the balcony.

x: have you gotten your chip implant yet?
y: yesterday.
x: does yesterday exist?
y: my chip allows me to know what time it is anytime i want.
x: isn’t that annoying?
y: it can be.
x: time is too much of a constraining influence.
y: have you got your chip implant?
x: tomorrow.
y: you will understand then.
x: understand what?
y: life is beautiful all the time.
x: i understand that now.
y: not like it will be tomorrow.
x: that eternal promised land.
y: yes.

x: there is nothing new here, is there?
y: not that i am aware of about.
x: doesn’t that seem strange?
y: it’s all different configurations of the same thing.
x: what is the same thing?
y: something must be.
x: what?
y: is it love?
x: many will claim it is.
y: that’s what i thought.
x: it proves nothing.
y: is there something to prove?
x: proof is in the pudding.

in another tropical paradise or another we receive instructions from the other sides mixed and garbling with meanings beyond repair.
aw, fuck.
wondering about everything swimming in his head around around spin, baby, spin.
the open dialectics thing going on for no apparent reason at all licking lips and that business and such.
flabbergasted brain.
he thinks mundane things in a mundane world forever turning in the starry night by the glow of the sun.
continuing on with whatever comes and goes along the way of whatever which is as definite as he will be at the moment.
vague in his reasoning.
wishy washy in his opinions.
wasted dirty hippie in his appearance.
thinking about love – agape.
can he ever accomplish that with his low opinion of humanity at large?
can any of us?
tune in next week and find out.
we think you’ll be surprised.
or not.