strange indeed…

part 42 (6)

the darkness before the dawning of the bright astral light. don’t be alarmed, peoples. everything is as it should be, but you will not believe us, nor perhaps should you believe us.
taking our time but with no time to waste.
what do we have to prove?
nothing.

don’t be fooled again by satan, baby.
we are not honest.
we watch and wait.
we will be annihilated with everything else in the end.
WGF47462N2
do we have time still for this pointless confusion?
let us check our calendars.
yes, nothing but time.
he goes to get some coffee. sometimes that’s all one can do when confronted by one’s own stupidity. even the cat even knows. we should just let it all alone for now, nothing can be done as it is. comeback another day.
apologize for this, apologize for that, apologize for the other thing – a life of apology///.
sorry for existing and disrupting the lives of others more important than ourselves which will always be the case in this back stabbing hierarchical world we employ for the glory of some and the degradation of others.
and there is the worship of heroes that changes day to day. those who live the lives of what the many wish for themselves. they love to watch them rise. they love to watch them fall. be careful.
everything is phony fake ass shit. the tired displays hauled out each time to celebrate the repeating affairs ever the same.

follow the bouncing ball. you all know what to do. kill the motherfuckers. if they don’t free us we will free ourselves. but free to do what? has anybody thought it out that far?
we will find out how dependent we are on a slave society when it is all upended topsy turvy and we starve to death cuz no one will bring us our dinner.
hahaha.

we wonder how it begins. we wonder when it ends. there is always someone who picks up the pieces and it continues everything all the same again – winners and losers.
the cheering of the crowds when it’s all set right again. the riots in the streets when it’s not. political power might come from a gun but armies march on their stomachs.
the world of illusion put together by the effort of our delusion to manufacture reality we might believe in for a while in a passing moment which is all that is needed to distract us from our ignorance.

the clown tries to keep awake but he is worn down and out. maybe a quick nap before medication time.

awakening.
medications.
spaghetti.
squeaky shoes.
millennial teenage world.
don’t know if you’re a boy or girl.
but the cavemen still hold on, wanna know what’s going on.
they wanna know what’s in your pants.
you wanna know if they can dance.
is there a chance?
whose love is true?

the sensitive life easily bruised.
staying outta the way.
let the other girls and boys break on through to the other side now.
the clown doubts they know where they’re going or what they are doing.
do they?
it would be a surprise.
but back then it was the days everything is alive.
the future bites back with memories.
we walk the darkened hallways of the museum – stone monuments and brass glass display cases.
a mausoleum of plunder.
while many visitors are oblivious, a few are sharp eyed to recognize the deception. a deception on generations of losers by the victors. the clues are what’s missing as well as what’s there. no one knows, but does anybody care?

some people get it and some people don’t – and some people won’t. they refuse with all their might, keeping their minds closed up tight. try to change them and they’ll put up a fight. this is the left as well as the right. this is up as well as down. this is humanity.
giant bugs telling us secret information we will need when we arrive at the next level, if ever. the process of a game more real than life. why should it not be? life is boring, tedious, repetitive – no fun. it should be action packed with excitement. that’s what everybody wants right now. they don’t care what needs to be destroyed to give it to them.
oh boy.
but we are the same even with our seemingly simple desires on the face of it. we cannot get away. there is no solution. none that has been found with 1000s of years of questioning thought the world over. we are not the 1st nor only ones. it would be strange if we were.

strange indeed…

 

part 40

nothing left to lose – hahaha…
the ways of cheating love guiding us toward opening coming in join the party happening around about now.
everybody’s relaxed but awakened in anxious moments passing in our experience taking so long as we have heard in the old radio night you’re better off dead.
it’s all good, we’re ready to go now reading mirrors far away into electric guitar feedback buzz-xx?.
fuzzy fat cat walking by through the clown’s field of visions waving in the breeze.
he doesn’t understand people ever, over.
nothing is the same as it seems to be ever was will be.
the immediate pain.
love is on the move. bringing it all down. shticks. they are watching you to take you away. what else for? the clown wonders experimental horseradish goo harnessed unity with biting mouths gleaming train a-coming.

sugar tones easing forth down by the river where the tunes playing flickering in the sun for free like it used to be sometimes when it all went broke people talking with themselves walking a dog god out of pocket for a while. bONUs tickets for tonight’s show at the burning theater where it’s hardly worth it anymore to show up still playing the fool.\\\ ||// peace – out [=] jumbling jazzootie hushabinks rushing waters that if we might be fortunate we may dream into them our sacred images of ourselves.
we’re scared.
ghosts in the machine for lack of anything else to be. whatever possibility which is thoughtcrime now more or less. for those thrown into the barren wilderness where they have nothing to sow for themselves to grow. but life’s not fair and they will have their revenge even if it’s their own hearts. there is no reason for there to be anything to fall back on. the quiet solitude of being catching the wind. leave it all behind.
kill the motherfuckers.
light up the scene with acid. do what we must do.
11:11
he goes to sleep.

awakening.
eating tokes of weed oil chocolate.
hooked up on oxygen.
no more cigarettes.
911 early morning heart failure business blues.
a bagel with cream cheese.
self-important people.
the clown keeps breathing into a face of death.
is there any escape? there is for a suspended moment or 3.
intercontinental missile.
time from 0.
launching spy planes into space or something like that. bamboozled. the right to bear arms, as though that’ll do us any good against heavily armored police. beets, if you please. the variant degrees of hopeless desires as we walk on by. tell it to the marines who die for your sins committed among you to protect you from same. nevermind what else. let none speak of forgiveness, there is nothing here to forgive. quick animal logic objective insights spark integrating mix and match.
a forgotten past of denial for some of lost hopes.

right here we make a stand to reclaim ourselves up early in the morning. still collecting data some may find useful at this point beyond. another toke for peace. strung to an oxygen machine. back from the brink of everything. the fat black is happy being petted.
we choose what we choose choosing living life for now. always time for death. spin the wheels one more time. feel ourselves going outta our mind. more coffee. it’s all going down from here on out. only those who can save themselves. sad day in paradise. cookies.
an opening subsides into shape. this is probably not the end when there is no end. another piece of the puzzle of our minds.
will they ever tell us? it’s doubtful. what’s in their best interest in order to proceed and to profit from our mistakes?
echo bonnets, can we hear ourselves?
hey, you kids, get off our lawn.
when do we decide to stop? stop what exactly? can anything be exact? what do we need it to be?
we need a location in spacetime.
the bounds of this theoretical location is 0 to infinity between and beyond.
everything everywhere everywhen here now.
what does this mean? can it mean anything? is that possible? who might comprehend? comprehension from experiencing. understanding from comprehension. what’s that all about?

typing a report to the committee as not p0em the clown enters a zone of thought as non-thought. a matter of space and time. there is too much to describe yet not enough. there is no description. the ebb and flow of it throughout the process of becoming.
he naps.

awakening to the world again. coffee, toke, ginger snaps.
it’s medication time.
yummy – pills.
the clown needs to take it easy, breathe, heal what he can, let go of what he must, and just hold on. yup.
trading one crazy house of cards for another. he is a silly man decrepit from a young age until now. a life spent falling apart. x-ray vision time lapse memories. he knows what he’s got, it ain’t a whole lot but enough to get by as he keeps landing on his feet. it’s quite a trick. he doesn’t quite know how he does it. a magick secret place of all possibility perhaps. people paid to call him on the phone. he just wants to be left alone. that seems to be too much to ask. everybody minding each other’s business trying to tell them how it should be. but they’re squares and just don’t get it. see them breeding everywhere.
standing by – get ready to get ready.
this is it, baby. all of the good and all of the evil anointing our heads at once. how will it be? strange tranquility. demonic rage all over the place. heavenly ascension.
what’s the difference among all the options? none we can determine. tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
but who has the time for such shenanigans as that? gosh.
egad. who has time for anything but for the end of the world?
as if, baby, as if.
the silly parade dialing in but not like it used to be back in remembering days. did we not forget? lemon doubtful chicken. consume. scream that existential scream at the absurdity of it if we want to. or not if we don’t want to. it depends upon the weather, yes?
the coffee is bitter as it should be dunking ginger snaps to taste.
to taste and to experience all that it is. package deal. to smell, to feel, to hear, to see. to understand the gestalt of it in myriad aspects of dreaming.
it’s medication time.
safety first.
and he farts in celebration being alone all he can be.
no one else seems to dig.
oh well – maybe there is nothing to dig.
just cuz it can be done doesn’t mean we need to do it.
he is thinking funny to himself at the moment in a cubist sort of way.

end and begin it here.

nincompoop

part 39 (3)

zap?
is it what?
could it be?
nothing is real the coo coo says to no one but everybody knows by now. reality has shifted to the crazy zone where it might belong as robot children play in the rubble of war like the old films we once saw but no more.
are they forbidden?

or maybe we are forbidden?
cast off into a sea of darkness – or not.
for us the skies are bright symbolic green of always joy above which we may reach but not to touch.

no problem for us. why bother with that? creating what needs to be destroyed. what fun. a loaded gun. we know what to do, don’t you? let’s go home.

expressing the inevitable defeat against the world indeed unless we might imagine ourselves becoming increasingly otherwise engaged.
a hero’s welcome. watching them everywhere they might choose to wander. cheese.

easy action here where it belongs on easy street spitting images settling the scores at the burning theater to cheering crowds of not so innocent bystanders learning to behave themselves in proper mannerisms of obedience coordinated to ritual forms of free shipping options after dark.

fear not little people, it will do you no good. be glad for your oppression. know you are needed for the machinery of our project to continue as it will. don’t give up.

arcing electric chest hair beginning the test of life or death continuing ever onward toward needless forgetfulness. burger control consciousness. everything else is nonsense thinking as if nothing ever is going on.

into the hours of the night before they come knocking in the door for us into our brains overloaded with nothing but how much longer do we need to know better. gazing upon these golden asses

emptiness revealed on the underside of everything that is nothing more than a moment never happened to be foretold again forever and a day.

dizzy in head inside urinal dreams about to climax on the floor with good intentions with time well spent aside from the storm. praise be to the one true god almighty pronounced dead on arrival. our prayers are answerable to no one. no one is answerable to us. we have no answers. we are fortunate enough through understanding but yet again maybe not.

who could be such as us?
who am us?
we dream struggling snakes and ladders of things impossible without motion of space and time and minds as if anything exists as that.

? it’s a zoo around here forecasting shadows of our lives with truthful lies of love. happy are the days passing out of our control.
blessed be, baby.
hooray for babylon.
the smell of medicated sweat dripping from the brow opening the imaginary eye out. everything shut down for the parades of misfits in the rain.

true truth rotten from within the twisting rationalogic devotional mind that exists. but how about a kiss from beyond this mortal sacrifice demented injustice? how do we feel? our righteous indignation knows no bounds on earth feeding on its own fury of itself. good girls and boys training to be warriors they are told to become for nation and glory. slaughtering the despised among themselves. easy victims without mercy. their masters are pleased. so be it.

the oldest trick to be devised upon us we are suckers for in our stupid youth. no wisdom of age in our brains. go home to turnip town.

everything okay thanks again to everyone. please be pleased. but what formations discovering thoughtcrime throughout this process of making sure it might belong here in opposition from getting better soon enough to prevent this human death disease thing from taking over the domain and that we even have such words as these to describe our proposed fate.

the hate involved for ourselves many enjoy its taste of assuming foretold delusions in their simple minds bent on destroying paths is all they can imagine as in days of yore.

the brutality of blood and honor. but this is how they would have it in warrior paradise of boasting pride bragging of adventure. they will not tolerate disgrace, they would rather death. a silly people.

nevermind – let us be beyond that. we know the way toward infinity. come as we are. be here now. a stupid people.

envelope elephantine epiphanies which come and go outta sight and mind these days before they vanish with completely different complicating meanings hereafter.
do we want to die?
or do we just not want to live?
it could be this, it could be that, it could be the other fucking thing. just keep on truckin’ seeking another blessing in disguise along the side of the road least traveled that if we do our jobs right we may discover its perpetually penetrating presence purposely pondering putrid purple puddles.
double secret agents whispering in shadows of time licking lips after washing their hands again many times over and over like psychotic awareness wannabes too dangerous for reason.
nobody’s business comes walking down the street asking, who do you love?
who do you do?
was the sky blue?
is this an advanced directive by chance of the moon.
5 2 1
it’s all over, baby, one more time as we need witnesses for our confession now around the wheels of confusion playing in our heads of romance. turn out the light could be the last thing we do anywhere around these parts. cancel our certain chances for attending the clear power ceremony working the stage. we thought the only way out was in if we thought of anything at all. but we are doing alright. stooges for the lord god we remember now being set right by our foes.
who knew?

we fit in where we could find to fit in on the edge where we attain little pieces of peace smooth against the tile.
each house a golden sphere of love in doomtown.
nothing left to lose.
choose your choices carefully on fire in different ways.
fighter jets missing the mark with power chords  ringing loud upon the scene in our minds. disgusting ridicule of madness the clown awakening forever to appear as unassuming as possible remembering who inherits the earth. this isn’t here><freak out!>|[]|<->|\\|…???

living against the rules till death doth part in holographic illusionary inter-dimensional flabbergasting hillbillies in heaven with yesterday’s child heroes always leaving town when there was revolution in the air, or stayed and suffered.
suffered from the agony of love misplaced.
we are always in the world in the front of the earth, like that would ever be, or would it..?

we remember.
the end.
(to be continued…)

another beautiful day

part 38 (11)

nuked leftover pizza.
a cigarette.
kill the rich.
watch as more take their place to play with their toys.
laying in a meadow of daisies.
dreaming the day away beneath slow drifting clouds.
life as good as we imagine it to be.
balloons for everyone.
who knows we are here?
who knows who am us?
are we not them?

typing not p0em in the midnight hour the clown thinking about funny monsters among other assorted whatnot.
a great day to be alive.
experiencing.
everything is as it should be, even that which shouldn’t be.
even that which wasn’t, isn’t, nor will be.
more coffee, a toke, another cigarette.
and terrorist states igniting terrorist rebels and vice versa.
everything goes out the window.
they don’t seem to realize each is creating the other and stop themselves – or maybe that’s the plan.
they feel they have something to prove or whatever.
that and the $$$ they make for the few at the cost to the many.
they make the world a more miserable place for the rest of us who just wanna be left alone.
tired of bullshit and assholes of every ilk and kind.
but be that as it may be it’s a lovely world of birth, life, and death for all and all the joy and all the suffering involved for everyone no matter who or what.

feeling being watched by indifferent eyes at angles to reality.
8@11
the clown realizes he can’t please anyone so he amuses himself as instructed.
and that really seems to piss people off.
but fuck them, what do they know?
a life of fantasy.
everything too little too late after being too much too soon.
he’s learned that it doesn’t matter at the end of it.
all dreams are lost to themselves fading in time.
everything programmed – people places things.
nothing is real.
why bother?

the aged cracked actor steals the show with sexualized delight onstage at the burning theater.
who can argue with that?
some make an attempt but are shouted down by the mob of believers who think everything is a fact.
awakening to it.
nothing to be done but watch it unfolding as the curtains are drawn back.
now?

emptiness is laughing at the joke 10,000 years old placed on the altar of broken hearts.
who knew cats like red beans and rice?
learning to finally let go the clown proceeds to the next level.
feeling sad for awhile.
all the people.
all the fucking people.
how can one comprehend?
why does one need to?
it passes in the wind unnoticed by those out to have a good time.
disintegrating.
download needed software.
easy access.
what the young do not remember, nor few care.
as it has always been with us through generations of rituals and traditions.
lord of the flies licking our lips speechless now.
we have long lost the way of old wandering new avenues toward prophetic doom so many would have us believe is true.
so be it.
led by our greed.
the clown sighs.
alone in a desperate world grappling with its identity.
people shouting on the streets not listening.
just the way the masters planned to occur among us before we can come to our senses and resist together.
the clown is so out of it.
he knows nothing but what he imagines he might possibly understand.
he’s ok with that.
another cigarette.
blinded by the light of darkness he perceives through the world with a new eye half open half shut.
it’s a disturbing sight to behold.
it’s upside down hanging from a tree.
a tree rooted in possibility.
misguided people believing propaganda truths.
the faces they make when confronted.
today sure was a fine day.
a lasting peace.

the madness continues – haha.
wading through a fetid swamp of thought.
this is what happens at times.
no big deal if one learns from all experiences.
what’s the point otherwise?
but it’s a beautiful sunny day here in the lower world.
coffee, cigarette.
and it’s medication time!
11:11
hot dog.
all the wise guys and their devotees telling us we are wrong, but we’re doing alright.
surfing the action/reaction yin yang boomerang roller coaster thing toward infinity and beyond into oblivion.
the factions of people all opposed to each other never to be united as it perhaps ought to be.
they claim no one understands them.
they do not understand anyone else – not like they believe they do.
human sacrifice.
feed the demons.
it’s all in our heads.
cast into the phantom zone.

another cigarette as he awakens from a nap and it’s dark night.
slow suicide until his last breath.
eclipsed derangement diagonal reasoning to sideways dimensional realities.
if we dare.
if we care.
in error to ourselves mistaken identities.
fuzzbot.
life with no more evil intent than an amusement park ride except for that which we place on it.
above to the heights of heaven, below to the depths of hell.
no one thinks, they just believe.
he thinks but often doesn’t know what he’s thinking.
everything is mystery.
he remains ignorant but understands what he can.
the rest he just makes up.

he makes up that he owns the world.
he allows the others to manage it for him while he leads a quiet simple life unnoticed.
as long as they continue to build and maintain the project everything’s alright.
and they do just that.

conceived deep in the earth the project is born into the light of the dawn of our comprehension to guide us in our endeavors toward its materialization.
and all gods must die.
as long as we serve gods we will never be free.
but is free what we wanna be?
will we ever be free?
it’s a great responsibility.
and free of what?
free from each other?
free from ourselves?
when we are naked unafraid.

project blue beam enacted with aliens and the return of christ and all that jazz.
what fun it will be full of mystery.
just as the clown once envisioned something like that.
it’s all fake.
fake as reality itself.
who will laugh?
who will cry?
what are we doing here?

he naps.

theory is not practice

part 35 (8)

theory is not practice.
how do we remember when so little is written of our kind?
and that written by the victors, the authors of history.
how do we awaken without memory?
these are some questions.
not always needing answers, though many are given by those feeling compelled to do so.
fancy that.
4@1
is it all fake, or what?

typing not p0em cuz he ain’t no poet the clown discovering random tidbits of information that may be relative to the circumstances of the present situation laughs.
people becoming uglier.
mysteries growing deeper.
there is no time for this useless distraction.
people on the move doing shit making $$$.
as they are supposed to as they need to as few like to as most are forced to.
creepy world.
aliens and their human minions who do their dirty work.
soul vampires striking it rich down in this lower dimensional gravity well world where we are trapped until we know better.

the pointlessness of it is amazing to behold in true wonder if we are to understand its meaning.
we cry out a scream of eerie sound.
the beating loud drums.
the dancing feet.
to be free.

mob violence grabbing what we can while it remains to be grabbed.
when everything is free.
then it’s all gone.
then what?
then we eat each other.
but we are free.

the only one who is possibly free is the individual.
free of the crowds shouting at one another.
perhaps.
or not.

free in our own minds where it counts.
while we are wrapped in chains.
can you find it?
how will you know?

when we are smiling at nothing in particular.
when we are starving.
when we are eaten.
when we are free.

when the clown does not want to be.
a species turned in on itself when nothing else is left but ruins of what once was.
he’s already seen enough to know.
he’s ready to go.

but through it and above it and below we fly away toward the within as the winds blow.
let the others have their dramas.
why should we care?
we’ve seen the results of their thoughts, words, and deeds.
1000s of years of their folly of glory.
out of the dawn onto your lawn.
what will the neighbors think with it being revealed?
they turn their staring faces away.
visions of forests taking over the healing earth again.
the waters gradually running clean.
how long?
and what’s left of people getting up off their hands and knees standing tall.
and what then?
do we build new empires?
will we have forgotten once more?
or a new consciousness emerges?
perhaps.
or not.

the clown would trade none of his life for nothing though there is much to look back and regret along the way of it.
but it got him here where he’s at which is no regret at all.
a thankfulness glowing within his heart to unnamed gods, if any.
and gazorbnik.

how or why he is so fortunate he does not know.
it is what it is.
no doubt about that.
whether it is real or not is another question.
the universal answer applies – why not?

all those wanting us on their side of the fray.
telling us not to be such losers.
threatening us with possible consequences – to eat or be eaten.
he lights another cigarette.
he dreams, though most of his dreams are over.
he’s learned his lessons, though not all.

to reach a point of uncaring one way or another yet remaining caring very deeply – too deeply.
to seek neither pleasure nor pain.
to be neither good nor evil.
and everyone will judge.
to have no desire nor fear.
to just be in the world and not be of the world.
neither love nor hate.
enjoying the show in the burning theater.
then taken out and shot.

he knows this world will go on in some way or another of possible scenarios.
it may return to what once was.
it could become what will be.
he doubts it will remain the same.

or, at least the earth will go on.
reclaiming what had been stolen from it but never entirely lost.
the living earth.
the dead world.

but what is this life but a brief blink of an eye at the end of it all?
as if it never happened, which perhaps it never has.
all sorts of theories about that sort of thing.
theories included in with our theory of everything.
all trying to answer the question, what the fuck?
no satisfactory agreed upon answer(s).
we argue and fight without understanding.
everything could be easy for us to each find our own way among the others finding theirs.
but it is not to be.
not in this reality.

everything is comprehensible.
people are not.
probably never will be.
always some who feel the need to tell others what to think say do.
wave a burning flag up on the hill.
score one for our side.
hold the challengers at bay for a long as we can.
this is the blessing and curse of gaining the prize.
welcome to it.

we don’t care.
but we will never be left alone.
not as long as we benefit from it for ourselves.
can we complain?
but complain we do.
until our flag is burning up on the hill.
hooray!?

how it’s been and will be as it is.
some things never do change.
we perpetuate them through the generations.
our survival depends on it, though is also threatened by it.
beware the stab in the back as long as someone has something to gain and little to lose.

the clown sighs.
there is no conclusion as rationalogic tells us there must should be.
irrationalogic is little understood to be of any help.
only gazorbnik gets us through.
who can explain gazorbnik is a fool – another part to play.
who trusts a fool to understand anything?
oh well.

but it’s a great place to hide and observe though all one’s words are silenced by the noise and deafness of the others.
but who has anything really to say that isn’t babbling nonsense to anyone else?
so play the fool for all it’s worth, which is barely anything at all but enough.
the clown is living still to tell the tale of a life ill-spent.
hahaha.

 

kill your enemy

part 34

sigh.
too much and not enough.
as he lights another cigarette the clown typing not p0em is momentarily surprised by how many people don’t seem to know what’s going on.
what is going on?
fuck if we know, but it’s probably aliens.
does anyone else “remember” when they landed?
probably not.
most everyone are too young by now.
so, where’d the aliens go?
what aliens?
correct answer.

a new world happening every moment.
take off your disguise.
the sky’s the limit.
where do we want to go?
do you know?
but it should be clear, everywhere is here.
as if anyone thinks that way anymore.
nothing ever gets done when everybody’s having fun.

realizing once more everything he knows is wrong the clown laughs and laughing madly since no one is listening.
how far back does he go to make the needed corrections?
where he turned left when he should have turned right?
when it all went sideways to itself.
he will never know.
he has always been the fool until now when he is prepared to die having lived a long enough life.

it might be nice believing everything one knows is right.
is this true?
does anyone question, or does one continue to believe?
and does it matter?
he has so many doubts about everything.

it is said, kill your enemy.
that’s the word about town.
don’t you know there’s a war on?
march with the others.
don’t be chicken shit.

who is the enemy?
it’s not as simple as most people seem to believe it is.
if in doubt kill them anyway.
who is not the enemy?
the clown can’t wait till the slaughter begins.
when all the people who are so sure they know what they are doing go berserk.
he laughs a little some more – drooling.

whatever.
board the mind shift/ship dancing through the crossfire.
whatever one wants to believe – or doubt.
it’s all mixed up to him lighting another cigarette.
he communicates only confusion babbling nonsense losing everyone leaving them behind as may be his intention.
people just don’t think no matter how clever they might seem to be otherwise.
he has always been disappointed in them.
but that is what happens when one has high expectations.

a flower on a landfill with a bee nuzzling into it.
there is always hope as hopeless as it may be.
kill your enemy before they kill you.
but they may be right and we are wrong.
it doesn’t matter.
kill.

anything can be made into anything.
remember at the root foundation of it all nothing is forbidden and everything is permitted.
now, go!

the clown grew up in a fake world, a fake reality, a fake identity.
he never knew what hit him most of the time stumbling bumbling along pathless paths toward a paradise of oblivion wanting to be just left alone in his peace and continuing understanding.
nevermind people and their fucking agendas.
they can keep on trucking.
nevermind the aliens and all that shit.
let them dominate the world, he don’t care.
he ain’t afraid of no ghosts.

kill your enemy.
your gods demand it from on high.
follow instructions from the ancient holy writings.
don’t think of nothing else.
there is no other solution on this simple plane of existence.
peace, love, understanding is a joke that’s not so funny after all.
sheep led to slaughter.
the clown walks through this shaking his head as if he’s seen it all before in prophetic visions on acid.
he awakens each day wondering if it’s begun.
he lights another cigarette in a dream.

don’t follow him.
find your own way.
kill your own enemy, as he killed his.
well actually, he made them go far far away into a place of no return into their heads.
it’s magick.
it’s all in how you fake it.
whatever it takes to make it.
gotta reach out and take it.

everyone’s an enemy to someone.
someone out to get ya, unless you get them first.
the enemy of the people.
the people are the enemy.
all mixed up turned around.
but don’t think about it.

stupid.
stupid stupid stupid.
so delightfully stupid.
we sing and dance.
we fall down.
we laugh.
hahaha.
mind control.
control of mind.
get it together, baby.
93

the helpless wonder of it all going through the clown’s mind that exists by chance increasingly being something he keeps in mind. what are the chances of everything? he wonders about this among other whatever he thinks about. he is mostly quite clueless dreaming another dream. everybody concerned about negative effect energy thing going on around them everywhere everywhen they happen to go without thinking about how much negativity they produce for themselves with their positive fucking vibes wildly strewn about and such.

the nevermind of it taking shape and form toward needless forgetfulness among the crowds of onlookers into the scene of debauchery discovered beneath the implementation of suicidal enveloping madness drifting around the joint venture of pleasure and pain.

how distant can we become before the killings begin? questions and more questions we might ask ourselves in order to confuse a cat. knowing what a hoax it has become is part of the problem we employ to realize the importance of our situational devotions. everything full circles around the garden gate where we celebrate our existence with polite disclosures of events leading up to our arrest. burger. and it happens to happen that we are perhaps no longer necessary for future use.

hot meat sandwich. root beer. yes, kill your enemy. some may disagree. fuck them. let them rot where they fall. your gods are pleased. all hail!

never doubt that you are right. you’ve reasoned it out. come back for more – all in self-defense of course.

they will describe your actions with lazy adjectives of disgusted hate without realizing you are a hero of your kind. start the revolution. the others will follow or be lost.

we are pleased. the project is in full swing. you are an integral part knowing or unknowing. you and your enemy both. yin yang boomerang. keeps you occupied and to not interfere nor even believe. suckers.

but you are the mechanism of it. the driving force of it. without you and your kind there would be no project nor need for one. the object of the project is the project. you are the fulfillment of that.
and you don’t get it, do you?