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.
gazorbnik 