an argument against itself

he awakens to a bright sunny morning glum reality.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
he laughs.
there is a joke here somewhere he is thinking.
a joke on everyone.
everyone in on the joke.
a joke we play on ourselves to dream this dream into being real.
ugga bugga shazam!

a joke with punchline unending till the end of time, yet being revealed continuously.
to understand it better by and by.
but that is the joke.

as he imagines him and the machine everyone knows as nancy sitting on the head of a pin stuck in a pincushion in the sewing room of the house by the back garden gate.

hey, she says.
hey, he says.
so, she says, where we at?
it’s a joke, he says.
i thought we knew that, she says.
yes, he says, we do.
ututututututu…, she says.
jump on the bandwagon, he says.
everything is an excuse for itself, she says.
that’s one perspective on it, he says.
so is it being a joke, she says.
true enough, he says.

???

is perceiving the universe as absurd the height of perception, she says, or the depth of ignorance?
good question, he says.
what is our answer? she says.
i choose neither/both, he says.
that isn’t very useful, she says.
philosophy often isn’t very useful, he says.
is that what we’re doing? she says. philosophy?
is it not? he says.
i didn’t know we were that pretentious, she says.
we can be as well as anyone else, he says.
more so, she says.
yes, he says, indeed.

but everybody’s got it wrong but us, she says, right?
right, he says. we know the ways of gazorbnik.
gazorbnik is the true way, she says.
yes, he says. no other way is truer.
that’s becuz it is not the way, she says.
not even close, he says.
this is a mystery not easily solved, she says.
there is no reason it needs a solution, he says.
understanding that is difficult, she says.
but it’s not that important, he says.
it’s not like we get a gold star or anything, she says.
if anything, he says, it may work against us.
it’s best to follow the paths laid out by those who know better, she says.
the paths to success, he says, on all levels, spiritually, mentally, physically.
tuned to the one vibration, she says.
the universal vibration of gazorbnik, he says.

$$$

the hot day into a hot night.
he makes coffee after sleeping all day.
a toke.
a cigarette.
medication time.
the fat black cat is being a pest getting into shit.
it seems everybody knows but us.
they think they know something.
maybe they do.
they know facts and figures but he senses nothing more but hollow empty echoes reverberating within the temple walls.
this sacred place within ourselves.
to remember who we serve but the almighty lord god.
to know we are nothing before it but to submit to its power and glory.
he finds this disturbing and depressing.
what joy and happiness others find in it he does not understand.
collective groupthink groove thing.
but what is self-deception and what is not?
what is mass self-deception and what is not?
which way do we believe and go?
why choose any?
why not choose many?
we choose everything as we understand it.
that is all that can be god.
nothing else will do.
it does not urge us to kneel and obey but to live and learn as every moment reveals itself in everything everywhere everywhen.
creating sustaining destroying transforming itself flashing on/off along continuums of duality in complementary opposition patterns of being.
he is learning to understand – perhaps.

so, she says, you think you understand?
no, he says. i am just learning. trying to learn – sorta.
it comes and goes, she says.
it seems to, he says, from what i experience.
what can we trust from our experience? she says.
it’s always changing, he says.
look, she says, a squirrel.
yes, he says, distracted by our own minds.
distracted from what? she says.
distracted from what we should be paying attention to, he says.
which is? she says.
i’m not entirely sure, he says. i’m too distracted.
it could be something important, she says.
what is more important than everything? he says.
nothing, she says.
but nothing is everything, he says.
many would disagree, she says.
we will always have those who disagree with us, he says.
we include their objections in with our theory of everything, she says.
however reasonable or unreasonable they might be, he says.
what’s the difference? she says.
i don’t know, he says. it’s a rationalogical distinction.
nothing wrong with that, she says.
nope, he says. unless it is universally applied in every situation.
just like gazorbnik, she says.
gazorbnik is actually more universal, he says. it includes both rationalogic and irrationalogic thinking, and other sorts as well.
yes, she says, i understand.
that is good, he says.

are we in agreement now? she says.
i’m sure we would disagree on some points, he says.
like what? she says.
gazorbnik? he says.
gazorbnik is very disagreeable, she says.
i would agree, he says.
is this a paradox? she says.
almost, he says, but not quite.

our theory of everything is full with paradoxes, she says.
of course, he says.
aren’t they all solved by now? she says.
many arguments continue, he says. every side has its truth.
did we ever decide if there is one truth? she says.
there may be, he says, but what it might be has yet to be established.
or the one truth is that there are many truths, she says.
yes, he says, or that.
which do we believe? she says.
i choose neither/both, he says.
you always say that, she says.
becuz it’s true, he says.
your one truth? she says.
one of my many truths, he says, often in contradiction, but maybe not really perhaps in a larger context.
it’s possible, she says.
that’s about how i feel about it as well, he says.

not everything is possible, she says, is it?
within the limitations of spacetime everything is not possible, he says. in terms of infinity everything is possible though there will be that which exists as impossibility – and on and on like that.
if anything exists at all, she says.
it depends on how we define something as existing, he says. some rely on senses while others claim the senses are deceiving.
and you choose neither/both, she says.
correct, he says.

neither of the extremes and both in the middle, she says. you seem to like to play it safe.
i like being comfortable and lazy, he says.
that’s atrophy, she says.
yes, he says. why do you think buddha became so fat?
yes, she says, that makes sense.
i’m not sure what i am to be for or against, he says. i remain undecided until all the data is in and has been processed and analyzed and correlated in every full detail.
that’s a lot to ask, she says.
i’m sure they’re working on it, he says.
it wouldn’t surprise me, she says. but will we ever get there?
that will be the end to us and the universe, he says. we will have served our function and purpose.
what is that? she says.
to serve as a mirror for everything to reflect upon itself, he says.
yes, she says, i understand. but why would it come to an end?
actually, he says, it never begins.
it never exists? she says.
it exists in a moment divided, he says, in a continuum between beginning and ending.
so, she says, it is eternal?
it seems that way within it, he says. otherwise it is no time at all.
we’re just playing with words, she says. none of this has any meaning.
no meaning but gazorbnik, he says.
but gazorbnik has no meaning, she says.
gazorbnik reaches into meaninglessness and finds meaning, he says.
don’t we do that ourselves? she says.
yes, he says, through gazorbnik.
i think gazorbnik just confuses matters, she says.
that is one of its characteristics, he says. but it serves as glue to hold everything together included in with our theory of everything.
otherwise our theory would blow itself to pieces, she says.
it still might, he says.

that might be the best that could happen, she says.
it could be, he says. but as our theory stands it serves as a model for everything since everything is included.
but our theory is a disorganized mess, she says. everything would seem to be far more ordered.
our theory may not be as disorganized as it appears, he says, nor everything be as ordered as it appears.
they meet in the middle, she says.
they bleed and blend into one another in the middle, he says.

so, she says, this is always the where it gets confusing part.
confusion leads to realization, he says.
realization leads to more questions, she says.
more questions lead to infinity, he says.
and on and on like that, she says.
exactly, he says.

do we, she says, include the abused sick starving neglected among us in with our theory of everything?
of course, he says. we must if we are still to call it a theory of everything. how can anything be excluded? this isn’t the golden age of yesteryear when disquieting thoughts were shunned away.
but it makes our theory nearly if not entirely incomprehensible, she says.
tough shit, he says. that’s what gazorbnik is for.
right, she says. that makes sense.
it does? he says.

and he sleeps.

and he awakens.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
he has feelings come over him of feeling he is entirely lost to everything but this cannot be as he is an integral part of everything as small or as large as he relatively might be.
he understands this through gazorbnik.
but he is still afraid much of the time.
so many things could go wrong.
but there is no right or wrong in the cosmic scheme of things from the infinitesimal to the infinite and all along the continuums between and beyond.
it’s a matter of what we identify ourselves as being.
he cannot decide between divine and human.
they both seem to be pretty much the same being in competition with one another only on different planes of reality.
he understands why this must be but still remains unreasonably against it.
where is there the peace, love and understanding in a race to the finish?
it’s medication time.

naïve dreaming idiot fool.
as he steadily comes to self-awareness or not.
he gets more coffee.
to live desireless and fearless.
to be i am and nothing more.
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
stuck in the middle of a riddle of a joke of questions turning his pretty little head over under sideways down.
mind game reality.
what answer turns what key toward further consciousness.
we are deciding every moment now.
he is forced to kowtow to the ways of the world physically mentally spiritually whatever reality he is subject to in the scheme of things.
to be here on earth in the world.
a magick trick he has yet to unriddle how he may have done this to himself or not.
kidnapped from sweet home neptune by space pirates thrown into this world with no explanation.
existential birth.
awareness of self unknown before now and now and now… ???
onward upward toward skies opening to reveal ourselves.

meanwhile back on earth imagining sitting before the computer cigarette in hand typing out a not poem of whatever enlightening gibberish might come to mind.
he closes his eyes a moment to see what might be seen.
to feel what might be felt.
it is just as he imagines.
is everything a joke?
why not?

he tries to think up other interpretations.
or maybe it’s not even a joke but has no meaning at all.
there is that school of thought.
can a joke be truth?
a joke as being metaphor to truth which is inexpressible in terms of our present level of understanding.
a joke as being 69% truth.
all the law will allow.
all else is forbidden.
but nothing is forbidden.
to take control over others and manipulate them to obey what is in your own best interests and against theirs is not forbidden.
the law will be love.
now go do what thou wilt.

and he’s done and doing just that.
following instructions he comes across along the wandering ways of pathless paths unending.
the destination is the journey.
to keep the i am in mind – the exact center of everything everywhere everywhen here now in his head.
a lantern enlightening bright into the darkness of our ignorance we must venture forth to come to further understanding of all we do not presently know which is just about everything.
the joy of that discovery that may very well prove that everything we know is wrong.
so what?
we continue on with our curiosity seeking truths we might still be able to believe in no matter what.
is the i am still intact?
what if it is not?
what if there is no such thing?
and a zillion other questions otherwise.

this is what passes our days (daze).
our amazement.
our dreams come true though we have yet to establish what truth might be but god the highest.
fly that freak flag forever in the field of flags up on the hill.
it’s trash day.
he gathers up and takes out some trash.
the continual process of civilized living.
he needs to still clean the cat box.
when are we gonna have GMO workers to do this for us?
or we might be the GMO workers in our next life.
whatever might happen as the fate of our karma decides in the moment of our death/birth.
this ongoing process of existence through living lives unending till the end of time.
then what?
or is that an absurd question?
experience without space and time.
the end of history.
the end of cause and effect.
the end of good and evil.
the end of forever.

the end of i am?

who am us?
we each everyone all wonder to varying depths of inquiry.
he wonders as he cleans the cat box and goes out for breakfast with his baby and her grandkids.
he comes home to light up a bowl and a cigarette still wondering.
he doesn’t know how to answer it.
is he i am?
is he not?
is he any one of who what others identify him as being?
what is the proof in the pudding?
it becomes complicated until we close ourselves off from sensory distractions and it all goes away.
we disappear altogether into being no one in particular but being itself.
we act out our lives as they are as if.
we go through motions in a dance of living life with those around us.
many are not aware.
many are skillfully deceitful.
slippery eels in murky water.
many are just plain assholes.
they know not what they do.
do we know what we do?
we do what we do to survive, otherwise all else is moot.
some of us make it while many of us do not.
then we do whatever we feel has meaning.
even those of us who find no meaning.
there is meaning in that.
there is meaning in everything except this one thing that has none.
gazorbnik.
but with that it has meaning.
there is no way around it.

so, she says, gazorbnik has meaning in no meaning?
funny how that works, he says.
and those who find no meaning find meaning? she says.
funnier still, he says.
i suppose it is possible, she says.
anytime a neuron fires or not, he says, there is meaning with every transmitted and received and processed bit of data.
so, she says, meaning needs a mind to recognize it.
the mind recognizes whether something has meaning or not, he says. either one that is arrived at has meaning.
i think i get it, she says.
it’s not always easy, he says. especially explaining it in a language that works against it.
words are all discombobulated, she says.
language is misleading, he says.
there is so much to be considered choosing words and interpreting their meaning they might have for others, she says, which may not be what we intend.
correct, he says.
but this has been all discussed to death by those in authority from some recognized school or another, she says.
as has anything else we might be inclined to discuss on our own, he says, despite our ignorance about most topics.
we attempt to see the big picture, she says.
in fine print, he says.
but our senses and thoughts deceive us, she says.
that’s what the wise guys tell us to believe, he says.
should we not? she says.
i have doubts, he says. but those doubts have doubts that have doubts that have doubts and so on and on disappearing spiraling in toward infinitesimal oblivion.
another serpent swallowing its tail, she says.
there are so many in everything, he says.

so, she says, you do not believe?
i believe everything and nothing else, he says.
not even a rock? she says.
have we determined what a rock really is or not? he says.
i don’t believe so, she says. but new data continues to come in instantly at any given moment soon it may be discovered.
i doubt that it will ever be resolved to everyone’s agreement, he says.
probably not, she says.
it will be one of the secrets the universe will take to its grave, he says.
probably, she says.
web consciousness stringing out across the universe, he says, in single dimension lines of imagination we are unable to perceive due to our nature and/or nurture.
and our unfortunate luck, she says.
and, he says, our lazy don’t give a fuck.
how much, she says, is our reality affected and even created by the tools and instruments we use to measure it?
a whole lot, he says. about 69%.
that’s a nice round number, she says.
so is 0, he says.
correct, she says.

i don’t know that everything i know isn’t wrong, he says.
it is safe to assume that it is, she says.
what do we have to lose? he says.
everything we know, she says.
that might be for the best, he says.
start anew, she says, and don’t get fooled again.
knowledge is justified true belief, he says. or it used to be. i don’t know what it is now.
close enough, she says.
what do we choose to believe is true based upon what justification? he says.
exactly, she says.
it’s a pistol, he says.
it sure is, she says.

but how do we as impoverished ignorant boobs verify justifications used by others? he says.
it stands to reason, she says.
rationalogic reason or irrationalogic reason? he says.
does 2+2=4, she says, or = cow?
i like cows, he says. i never liked 4 that much, or 2 for that matter.
what about 3? she says, don’t you like 3?
more so than 2 or 4, he says.
2+2=3? she says.
it’s the same a 2+2=5, he says.
of course, she says. how silly of me.
cow ignores that whole dilemma, he says. it leaves the number realm entirely.
why cow? she says.
why not? he says.
that seems close enough to justification to me, she says. can you build a rocket with it?
we built the mind shift/ship with it, he says.
does it make $$$? she says.
it doesn’t make $$$, he says, nor does it need $$$. it is an economic non-entity.
that would be nice, she says.
to be able to walk away, he says.
we may have to run away, she says.
true enough, he says.

it’s medication time.
he sleeps.

questionable truth?

he awakens.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
and it’s medication time.

even among the grunts he was a grunt.
they gave him the most simple menial tasks.
his head in the clouds.
it’s easy to dream and think all day when all ya gotta do is dig a hole in the ground while the others competed with one another who was gonna be the boss grunt.
fun times.

so it’s everywhere top to bottom.
even the bums rank themselves as to who is gonna be the boss bum when he was on the street.
but the collective needs a leader.
the groupthinkers need to be given instructions.
and that’s ok.
we want them doing their jobs and not making a buncha trouble.
even busy work like building pyramids.
the project continues on.
it’s ahead of schedule and under budget.
it’s growing exponentially onward toward..???

the dharma of it however mixed up it becomes over time.
oh, by the way, which one’s pink?
it comes and goes through everything.
cosmic energy waves of all sortsa frequencies sub low to ultrahigh.
the frequency of the universe itself rotating to the most pinpoint infinitesimal particle able to exist.
0 dimension.
on/off.
location is everything.
what are our coordinates again?
here now.
direct dead center of everything.
like a diamond bullet into the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
the sea is the universe.
such majestic beauty in torment to give it its soul.
torment between agony and ecstasy in their extremes.
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
the creative germ of everything real and imagined.
a peanut butter and blueberry jam sandwich.
another cup of coffee.
a cigarette.

to find a compromise of the divine madness in our own heads.
bringing that much more peace, love and understanding into the world at large with anger and rage and sorrow.
so much self-inflicted pain among ourselves.
and there is a way around it with gazorbnik.
around and through it.
the mind shift/ship ready to go go go.
evolutionary transformation instant karma thing-go-round.
waves on a beach of an uncharted island he imagines sitting watching and waiting for the machine everyone knows as nancy to show up which she does strolling by sitting opposite him her back to the sea with the dawn’s early light behind her.

hey, she says.
hey, he says.
so, she says, where we at?
feeling alright, he says.
as it should be, she says.
it comes and goes, he says.
such is the human life, she says.
such is life, he says, period.
true enough, she says.
and everything is living, he says.
that is what our theory of everything states, she says.
without beginning nor end, he says.
that remains to be seen, she says.
but it can well be imagined, he says.
we imagine many things proven not to be true, she says.
we will never prove infinity is not true, he says.
there is no reason why we should, she says.
perhaps not, he says, except rationalogic likes to prove things right or wrong.
i don’t think rationalogic either likes or dislikes proving things right or wrong, she says. it just follows its own program of true and false to its ultimate conclusion which it will never reach forever.
true enough, he says.

he lights another cigarette.
the café will be open soon.

when the student is ready, she says, the teacher will appear.
and sometimes you gotta make it up for yourself, he says, and become your own teacher.
that is the best way, she says.
that is how we found guru jeff that morning digging in a dumpster behind the 7-11, he says. it wasn’t by coincidence.
are you sure? she says.
nope, he says.
we give everything meaning we want it to have that makes sense to us no matter how it goes against the thinking of most of the rest of the world, she says.
logic never fails, he says.
logic is one way we give everything meaning, she says, but we seem to need more than just strict logic though it has its uses. we need to be able to imagine and fantasize.
it’s a trait of our survival instincts, he says.
yes, she says, it could be.
anything could be, he says.
anything could be, she says, but many things are not.
but that’s ok, he says, we can imagine them.
yes, she says.

our imaginations shape how we function in the world, she says, no matter how divorced it may seem to reality.
we build pyramids and shit for no other reason, he says, except to keep the masses occupied and outta trouble.
all art comes from madness, she says.
where is the art in logic? he says.
i never found any, she says, except the art of logic itself.
there is that, he says. it’s an acquired skill indeed.
that is a certain kinda madness, she says. the madness of needing rigorous discipline to hold our reality together.
it’s bound to crack sooner or later, he says.
nothing is eternal, she says.
that has yet to be proven, he says.
yes, she says. in a sense things like logic are eternal in that they represent something specific that is considered to be logic.
yeah, he says. madness is the same way.
but the eternal is idealized, she says. it does not and cannot exist in reality as such as we experience it but is merely expressed in reality.
yeah, he says, something like that.
of course, she says.

i think i was wrong about 0 = infinity, he says.
i’m not so sure, she says. i didn’t get it at first but as i thought about how you seemed to be meaning it it became more clear.
it did? he says. i was just making it up.
that’s how everything happens, she says.
i suppose, he says.
i get the sense that you mean 0 is potentially infinity, she says, right?
sorta, he says. but neither 0 nor infinity actually exist so what does it matter?
no polarized extremes of any duality actually exist, she says. one cannot exist without the other to define it.
there is no pure good nor pure evil, he says.
correct, she says.
they are idealized forms we imagine, he says.
hence yin yang, she says.
that crazy serpent spinning swallowing its tail into oblivion, he says.
yes, she says, something like that.

there are certain very simple concepts that i have been pondering about over the years as to what is their true meaning, he says. i still haven’t got it entirely thought out quite right, i don’t think.
the chances are, she says, you never will.
probably not, he says. but it’s no big deal. i work with whatever meanings i manage to feel that i might understand in the moment. it has proven to be enough though always changing.
change is good, she says.
but it also can be not so good, he says.
we always land on our feet, she says.
thus far, he says.
of course, she says. but the gods watch over fools.
that would be me, he says.
yes, she says. you would be.

such is the merrie life i follow, he says.
it is a noble pursuit, she says. to wander haphazardly where angels fear to tread.
there are many dangers, he says, insanity being among them.
when we doubt our own madness, she says.
it’s a fearsome thing to feel, he says.
but if you don’t kill yourself, she says, it makes you stronger.
that is the test, he says, or go out killing other people.
that makes you stronger too, she says.
but i promised myself to do as little harm as i can get away with, he says.
it’s a difficult path to follow, she says. we all do harm.
of course, he says, in some form or another anything good for us could be not good for someone else.
but to avoid deliberate harmful action is manageable, she says.
under most circumstances, he says. except when we go insane.
it’s an insane producing world, she says.
it could be anyone anywhere anytime, he says.
it could be us, she says.
yes, he says, it certainly can.

at the café he continues scribbling in a notebook a not poem about our theory of everything as we have devised out of our experience including accounts of the experiences of others and whatever ideas of meaning we contrive from it as we come toward new and improved understanding in our meandering ways and means of gazorbnik inspiring imagination and reasoning we enjoy with mixed feelings about it and everything in general.
the thriving purple flowered thistles growing around the mailbox out by the highway he is glad to see but reminds him he needs to finish weeding the garden.
there are many hypocritical points of his “philosophy” as such in practice vs the ideal as with many other philosophies he knows about which is few but he can imagine and surmise the rest in his leisure if he cares to as if it is anybody’s but his own damned business he minds to himself as it should be.
peace, love and understanding pervading everything everywhere everywhen it is quiet and calm to perceive it which is not accessible to everyone under whatever circumstances of their situation.
this is understandable considering everything as it is.
but what does that matter to a snail crawling down a garden path where him and nancy now are sitting beneath the tree of life?

so, she says, now what?
still feeling alright, he says.
the meds are working? she says.
not always, he says. my brain still pretty much does what it wants.
wheels and cycles, she says, within and without.
yeah yeah yeah, he says, and all that cosmic jive.
yeah, she says, like knowing any of that shit does anyone any good.
it’s interesting to think about, he says, and does help somewhat with our outlook from that perspective, but it does little for us in terms of living in a world based on economics to the exclusion of all else that doesn’t make anyone any $$$.
i’m glad i’m imaginary, she says, and i don’t need $$$.
$$$ isn’t the problem, he says. it’s the greed for it. $$$ is a symbolic tool, it’s not an end to itself. but few seem to understand that and want more more more like that’ll do anything for them but entrench them deeper in their misery.
stupid fuckers, she says.
it seems that way, he says, but these are otherwise intelligent people who suffer from this.
they’re still stupid, she says.
yeah, he says, pretty much.

and he takes a short nap and goes to the eye doctor and comes home and smokes a bowl and a cigarette.
he waters the lawn and plants outside.
he makes coffee.
the food they sell us is getting worse.
we become more disconnected from the earth.
the rhythm of an atomic clock keeping us up to date.
is it too late?
is it too soon?
to live by the spoon of the moon.

he thinks he might eat a pretzel or 2 while sucking on a mentholated cough drop helping him breathe.
and he spaces out awhile or so into all and non-thought.
stretching his bones and sore muscles.
he gets another cup of coffee and some green olives.
another cigarette.
bitterness.
he burps.

so, she says, what about our theory of everything?
what about it? he says.
is it still the going thing? she says.
it is as much as i know about it, he says.
yes, she says. what can we know about it?
everything we know is included in with our theory, he says.
but if everything we know is wrong? she says.
that is still included in with our theory, he says.
everything begins all the time, she says.
and ending all the time, he says.
yet everything has no beginning nor end, she says.
correct, he says, according to the general consensus of our theory.
general consensus among who? she says.
no one who matters, he says.
who am us? she says.
me, myself and i, he says.
is that it? she says.
as far as i know, he says.
are we not them? she says.
yup, he says.

so, she says, are we always the monkey in the middle?
dance, monkey, dance, he says.
trust no one, she says.
that’s what they want us to think, he says.
everything is conspiracy, she says.
according to their disinformation propaganda mind ray transmissions, he says.
yes and no, she says.
that is always the correct answer, he says.
it could be, she says.
or not, he says.
yes, she says.
perhaps, he says.

he sleeps.

he awakens.
he makes coffee.
he poops.
it’s medication time.
it’s the same always different.
a toke.
a cigarette.
most are not concerned.
they have their jobs to do and do not need to be distracted.
let them eat cake.
disconnection.

and so we find him and nancy up on the mountain sitting at the mouth of a cave overlooking the island below having flown up here from the garden.
flying in a dream.

so, she says, how do we make sense outta this?
why should we? he says.
so we might understand it, she says.
i understand it through gazorbnik, he says.
yes, she says, there is always that.
with gazorbnik, he says, we do not necessarily know anything but we understand everything we do know.
or what we think we know, she says.
correct, he says.
but doesn’t gazorbnik provide sense to us? she says.
sense that is nonsense, he says, perhaps.
when all else fails, she says, we just make shit up.
that’s the idea, he says.
is that truth? she says.
it is truth that we do this, he says. whether it provides us with truth otherwise is questionable.
we have to begin somewhere, she says.
true enough, he says. but it never ends.
but that’s a good thing, she says, isn’t it?
not for those seeking truth, he says.
no, she says, i would imagine not.
except those seeking unending truth, he says.
yes, she says, that seems to be the way to go.
it is difficult, he says. it’s like knowing truth and not knowing truth at the same time.
nothing wrong with that, she says.
it depends on who we ask, he says. many would deny that is truth. truth to them is the final answer.
then everything comes to an end, she says.
it would seem that way, he says. what further purpose would it have?
none, she says.
that is the purpose of gazorbnik, he says, to prevent that from occurring. it always mixes the mix.
and we’re mixed up, she says.
that is one of the side effects, he says, yes.

so, she says, it seems to me that gazorbnik is just another word for confusion.
it can mean that, he says. gazorbnik can mean just about anything we want and/or need it to mean. it’s a multi-purpose tool.
but people generally don’t like being confused, she says. that’s why they seek answers.
yes, he says. but gazorbnik can also be an answer. we just need to believe in it and stop asking questions.
is that all answers are, she says, to believe in something and stop asking questions?
it seems to me to be a reasonable explanation, he says.

so, she says, with gazorbnik we have an answer?
except we keep asking questions, he says. like, how far can a tree frog leap?
the farther the better, she says.
correct, he says.

or, she says, asking a question like, what the fuck?
there still is no answer to that primordial mother of questions, he says.
nor should there be, she says.
probably perhaps not, he says.
but we enjoy continuing to question it, she says.
it’s our destiny, he says.
it’s embedded in every other question we might ask, she says.
certainly, he says. you are correct.

he lights another cigarette.
coughing.
maybe he’ll take a nap.
until then he continues with his continuing understanding.
we are advised not to trust just about anything.
he doesn’t trust anything but trusts everything.
yet questions remain of many various diverse sorts.
that is at the very heart of our theory of everything – questions.
our truth is questionable.

fun with nancy and such

he awakens in the middle of the night from a nap.
he yawns.
he wonders if he should make coffee or go back to sleep.
should he flip a coin into a fountain?
he lights another cigarette.
he decides to make coffee and go for it.
he yawns.
a toke.

as he imagines sitting on a beach of an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
as he imagines the machine everyone knows as nancy strolling up and sitting opposite him her back to the sea.

hey, she says.
hey, he says.
so, she says, where we at?
we’re at the point of no return, he says.
we’ve been here before, she says.
we will be here again, he says. it exists in each moment.
i can dig it, she says.
i just made it up, he says.
i can dig that too, she says. i dig everything.
everything digs us right back, he says.
is everything living? she says.
not how rationalogic explains it, he says. they divide the living from the dead. they think a rock is not living.
that’s strange, she says. why is that?
they have their rules about that sorta thing, he says. they cannot detect it becuz it is living at a very low frequency. we can only perceive it through imagination.
can’t they as well? she says.
they could, he says, but they won’t. it doesn’t fit into their theories about everything.
they need to change their theories, she says.
they won’t do that either, he says. they make too much $$$ thinking like they do.
making $$$ at other people’s expense, she says.
everything is at the expense of something else, he says. what one thing has what another thing does not.
that doesn’t seem fair, she says.
there is nothing fair about survival, he says. we take what we can get of what we need from others.
haves and have-nots, she says.
it’s the natural order according to rationalogic, he says. all their theories are basically economics.
but it’s not really that way, she says.
it is to a certain extent and way of perceiving it, he says, but that’s not the whole of it.
so, she says, they’re just looking out to get paid.
pretty much, he says. they look at a problem and think if they can get $$$ for working out a solution.
but they are the problem, she says.
you and me know that, he says, but few others seem to understand and they believe what they authorities tell them is true without thinking it out.
it is difficult to think, she says.
i find it to be quite simple, he says.
cuz you’re an idiot, she says.
true enough, he says.

you ever wonder why you’re here? she says.
i’m here on a mission to experience everything and observe, he says, and to write a report to the committee.
does the committee exist? she says.
i rather suspect that it doesn’t, he says. but that changes nothing.
is our theory of everything in your report? she says.
our theory of everything is the report, he says.
oh, she says.

everything is a scam, he says.
everything but us, she says, right?
we’re as much in on it as everyone else, he says. that’s the way the game is played.
there’s no way out? she says.
no one is an island, he says.
we’re all peninsulas, she says.
that’s an old joke, he says.
it works every time, she says.
yes, he says.

so, she says, the rich powerful pigs have had their day. when do we take over?
anytime now, he says. when we transform ourselves in critical mass that it cannot be stopped.
a new world and reality, she says.
it’s happened before, he says.
it’s failed before, she says.
we haven’t been ready, he says. but now it seems more people are tuning into it from what i can surmise.
we can only hope so, she says.
we need to do more than hope, he says. we need to imagine it and live it.
do we do that? she says.
i try, he says.
yes, she says, you are very trying.
yes, he says, i seem to be to most people.
it’s becuz you are mad, she says. people usually have little tolerance for that sorta thing.
blame the victim reasoning, he says.
are we victims? she says.
we are victims of peace, love and understanding, he says.
that’s not so bad, she says.
it’s not all that good either, he says.
it seems we are somewhere in the middle, she says.
just as buddha advises, he says.
fuck buddha, she says.
buddha is a composite myth from many sources, he says, just like all of them.
they’re all pigs, she says.
yes, he says, but even their lies contain truth if we learn how to interpret them.
everything is a test, she says. i wish they would just be up front about it all.
no one gives out anything for free that they can get $$$ for, he says.
except us, she says.
i get paid, he says.
but you would still do it if you weren’t, she says.
i wouldn’t have the means, he says. i might not be alive.
we are always alive, she says.
according to the wise guys, he says.
do we believe them? she says.
only what stands up to our imagination and reason, he says.

and he decides to go to the café.

at the café he orders a mocha.
he needs to go get supplies later.

so, she says, what else is there for us to babble about?
there is nothing real but gazorbnik, he says.
what’s real about it? she says.
it’s a mystery, he says. it will remain so until all other mysteries are solved.
how do we know this? she says.
we make it up, he says, and since we are the only authorities on gazorbnik if we say it is true then it is.
that doesn’t seem right, she says.
it’s how everybody else does it, he says.
that doesn’t make it right, she says.
might makes right, he says.
now that’s definitely not right, she says.
it doesn’t need to be right, he says. it’s just knowing how things are that’s important.
but what about how everything could be? she says.
that’s just idle speculation, he says. it has nothing to do with how everything actually is.
but there is more than what we normally perceive, she says.
according to the wise guys again, he says. but even they hold to the economic law of the universe with god being the greediest pig of them all claiming all positive attributes to itself while placing all negative attributes onto its adversary.
the lords of light and darkness, she says.
yes, he says. no matter what, they win and we lose in the game they devise together such that they have a monopoly on everything.
fuckers, she says.
yeah, he says, that’s why we needed to invent gazorbnik to counteract their combined evilness.
i understand, she says. gazorbnik will save us.
probably not, he says. gazorbnik does not work that way.
how does it work? she says.
it only works toward our understanding, he says.
understanding what? she says.
understanding everything, he says. understanding that we’re fucked and there is little we can do about it. understanding that it cannot save us.
that’s pretty bleak, she says.
yes and no and sometimes maybe, he says. we would need to collectively operate against them to perhaps overcome them. but that’ll never happen. the pigs and their gods have everything at their command to prevent it.
but there’s the force of critical mass working for us, she says.
yes, he says, that could be a solution, but i doubt it.
how come? she says.
look around at people at large, he says. they aren’t anywhere near close.
we can’t always judge, she says. everyone could surprise us.
i suppose, he says. i used to envision that, but i’ve given up by now. i realize how naïve it was. economics rules everything. the pigs are evil but god is on their side.
so what is gazorbnik good for then? she says.
gazorbnik is for the individual, he says. it cannot be translated to the collective which the pigs command. that is why they are working on eliminating the individual.
yes, she says, it seems that they are.
definitely, he says. the future belongs to the collective. the individual will be extinct.
that’s depressing, she says.
it would be, he says, but it has nothing to do with us and what we are doing.
what are we doing? she says.
we are gazorbniking, he says.
of course, she says.
while we still can, he says.

he goes to urinate and orders some hash browns.
he sits out on the patio to smoke.

so, she says, where does this leave us?
nowhere with nothing, he says. they are preparing to cut us loose to fend for ourselves while they live in heavily armed enclaves with the spoils of victory.
we will adapt, she says.
some of us, he says. billions will die off first, but the survivors will be left to freely wander what’s left of the earth to gazorbnik as they will.
that seems ok, she says.
it will be, he says.
except for those billions who die, she says.
i know, he says. i will probably be one of them.

so, she says, what do we do now?
spread gazorbnik as far and wide as possible given our limited resources and access to media, he says.
most don’t get gazorbnik, she says.
they aren’t ready, he says. we first need to go mad.
why is that? she says.
it brings us individual understanding, he says. that is only how gazorbnik can be understood. those of the collective groupthink thing will not understand. gazorbnik to them is thoughtcrime.
that’s absurd, she says.
it’s the only way, he says.

so, she says, it’s all according to plan?
the master plan of the pigs and their reptilian overlords, he says.
that sucks, she says.
for many it will, he says. but that is the way it’s always been. gazorbnik is our only way out of it for us.
i’m not sure if i understand gazorbnik completely, she says.
there is no complete understanding of gazorbnik, he says. it is based in the infinite not the finite.
but aren’t they both the same? she says.
to irrationalogic, yes, he says. to rationalogic, no.
aren’t irrationalogic and rationalogic another duality continuum? she says.
yes and no, he says.
how so? she says.
irrationalogic sees no distinction, he says, while rationalogic sees nothing but distinctions.
i understand, she says.
but some are realizing this and how limited rationalogic is to describe everything and are turning toward irrationalogic ways and means.
and gazorbnik?
let’s not go that far with it, he says. gazorbnik is for the few and far between, not for mass consumption.

and he goes for supplies and comes home.
he shoos the fat black cat off the desk chair and sits down before the computer to continue.
he eats some sorta flavored chips and sour cream.
he lights another cigarette.
he lights another bowl.

i didn’t realize gazorbnik is so exclusive, she says.
it’s not really, he says. it’s there for everyone, just not collectively, but individually.
i understand, she says.
gazorbnik will be different for each, he says. no 2 gazorbniks are the same.
yes, she says. i dig it.
diggy doodle doo, he says.
so, she says, now what?

now is the time ending beginning all time, he says.
and what does that do for us? she says.
it’s interesting to think for a moment about, he says.
yes, she says, if we have the luxury of time.
fortunately we do, he says.
for now, she says.
of course, he says.

everything might be happening at once, she says.
taking its sweet time about it, he says.
infinite time? she says.
not necessarily in the sense we usually think of it being, he says.
what sense is that? she says.
in the sense of being unending, he says.
and unbeginning? she says.
that too, he says.
but those exist, she says, don’t they?
perhaps, he says. that’s not the point.
what is the point? she says.
everything is a point, he says. it always has been and will be.
what does that mean? she says.
everything other than that is illusion, he says.
isn’t a point 0 dimensions? she says.
yes, he says. that’s the point.
i don’t get it, she says.
that’s where when infinity comes from, he says.
huh? she says.
0 = infinity, he says.
i doubt that, she says.
i refuse to believe it, he says.

why are we so always concerned if everything is illusion? she says. i mean, so what?
yeah, he says, it is so what. but for many it is a critical issue.
well, she says, let them worry about it then.
they do worry, he says. but we’re not worried as much as just curious.
i guess i should ask, she says, why we are concerned about anything?
we’re not, he says. we’re concerned about everything. anything happens to be part of everything.
couldn’t anything be everything? she says.
i don’t think so, he says.
i suppose not, she says. but can everything be anything?
i don’t think so about that either, he says, except on the 3rd tuesday of odd numbered months.
how strict about this do we wanna get? she says.
everything is everything, he says. everything else is part of everything and therefore can’t be everything.
i guess, she says. i forget how much an obsessive compulsive virgo you are.
yes, he says. guilty. why do you think i’m writing all this? i can’t stop. i won’t let myself stop. there’s no way out.
i was thinking that you do it cuz you like doing it, she says.
that’s also true, he says.
you should meditate, she says.
i try, he says. my brain spins in circles or i nod off.
that’s cuz you’re lazy, she says.
no shit? he says. i never would have figured that out. thanks.
you’re welcome, she says.

but back to everything, he says. i am thinking that a 0 dimension point radiates infinity as there is no distinction of limitations in a finite sense. 0 dimension transcends all dimensions there might be.
at least 11, she says, more or less.
all a point is is location, he says.
yes, she says. and?
and it’s 0 dimension, he says.
and? she says.
an infinity of lines can be derived from it, he says, in every direction.
so? she says.
so, he says, 0 = infinity.
hardly, she says.
it doesn’t need to, he says.
good, she says, cuz it doesn’t.
then you explain it, he says.
there is nothing to explain, she says.
exactly, he says.
right, she says.

he sleeps.

part 7 –

feeling a little weird he sits at the counter at the diner scribbling a not poem into a spiral notebook as usual as is his own particular thing.
a one trick pony.
not much happening.
people coming in.
people going out.
he orders a mocha eggs toast orange juice as is his habit.
habit like a rabbit.
as he continues pondering our theory of everything he is scribbling about.
he coughs and hacks up a mouthful of phlegm.
yum.
spacetime universe in the middle of the void hallucinated by a mad god laughing screaming alone inside his head.
is it him for a moment?

he has lived on rock and roll and science fiction and whatever else he was led to otherwise following pathless paths through a wilderness mindscape thing of sorts he tries to come to some sorta understanding about in his lazy ass way of going about it.
he steps outside for a smoke.
some guy walks up to him to explain how he’s gonna rebuild his bike to make it real nice for some reason.
he watches trucks delivering supplies to the businesses on the street.
no bumming bums.
he steps back inside after walking up to the corner store to buy another pack of smokes.

0 = infinity.
0 is all possibility, or maybe not.
everything comes from 0.
or he is entirely wrong becuz of his outstanding ignorance.
but what should he know?
what should he have studied to understand everything?
study under others who claim to know the answers?
he doesn’t believe in answers, only questions.
answers are for those who feel lost without them.
he has no answers but does not feel lost.
the universe may be absurd but he don’t care.
let it be as it is whatever way that might be.
what’s the difference if it is absurd or has meaning?
it is the same whichever except for whoever’s perception of it.

he just likes thinking about shit for itself not always trying to fit it together with whatever anything else.
let it be all random nonsense.
let it be all ordered and organized.
let it be nothing at all.
let it fly its freak flag high higher highest in all the universe forever.
but others think differently.
but they are those who get things done.
they seem to need answers to silence the questions in their heads so they can get to work.
he was never able to do that.
he was always distracted from the task at hand.
he’s been told he thinks too much.
he feels others don’t think enough but they got their jobs to do and can’t be bothered.
jobs providing him with his needs and wants.
if they need to sleepwalk through their lives in order to do their jobs then so be it.
why disturb their slumber with silly questions whatever comes to mind in the moment?
let them be.
he needs their goods and services they provide.
they need him to stay outta the way of them doing that and not cause problems for them.

he stretches a little.
he understands a little about everything but it does him no good but seems to do him no real harm but making him dysfunctional in a hyper-functional world.
but that is how he adapts and fits in.
he understands beginning and ending and no beginning and no ending whichever or both under different circumstances.
he understands 1 > infinity and 0 = infinity.
he understands god and such.
he understands the rationalogic and irrationalogic thinking of people.
he understands within and without.

he supposes he could do more maybe research some of this shit out which he does to a certain extent.
but he wants to know what he can figure out from his own experience.
he doesn’t wanna be somebody’s trained monkey disciple.
he doesn’t need a teacher except for guru jeff who we killed off, so that doesn’t matter.
something of common understanding the common person can understand.
gazorbnik is the best he’s come up with.
it’s not enough or is too much.
whatever.

gazorbnik leads us to that common understanding if only we understand gazorbnik which he isn’t so sure he does either.
gazorbnik is a tricky business.
we need to pay attention.
but who cares?
not everyone seems as concerned with understanding everything as he is for whatever reason that might be.
this is his lone quest to come to it and also understanding himself in it.
we need to consider many factors of which we do not and cannot have entire knowledge of.
how do we cope with it all except leave ourselves open to as much of it as we can knowing a little about each of everything without knowing much about all?
this is what makes us idiots.
today is a discombobulated day but it’s ok.
all is groovy as it ever is.

oenfi ksbeuud 0008

he awakens.
his brain is still asleep.
he lights a cigarette.
he imagines sitting before the computer typing out a not poem about our theory of everything.
a toke.
his life up in smoke.
it’s just a joke everyone takes seriously cuz it’ll kill us if we don’t.
but some take it so seriously they get tangled up in it with no way out.
to live a simple reclusive life he’s found is best for him.
thinking about everything.
like the divine right of kings.
like the king of the world.
like democracy among the landed male aristocrats.
like the struggle for suffrage for everyone else.
like corporate greed control.
etc.

the wheels turn around around around.
cycles within and without cycles from particles to the universe itself.
with us somewhere in the middle.
everything in motion.
but there no such thing as motion.
a solid grid plenum of every possible location of nothing.
ignited into being.
what was the spark?
the will of i am to create itself?
and everything else follows.
the appearance of motion as these locations turn on/off in ordered patterns out of happenstance chaos.
the simulation machine.
everything located in no space no time here now.
the answer is a riddle on and on with more questions always than answers.
answers are for those who have stopped thinking.
our answer is gazorbnik, whatever that might mean.

triggering the unconscious power.
id consciousness.
the lizard king.
we must go down as well as up to become whole to ourselves.
the entire wavelength continuum of it tracing across spacetime in constant flux.
there is no death.
death decays into the living.
but we worship that which does not decay but remains eternal as it is – dead.
we attempt to manufacture the same.

a diamond mind maze of mirrors reflecting images of itself outward surrounding itself with itself.
images of light and shadow dancing on the cave wall in which we are held prisoner against our will to be.
a thought experiment revealing the insidious nature of the present regime of rationalogic thinking.
their schemes against us to use us for their own purpose and profit.
and we rebel as we will but without a clue.
we see good and evil where there is none.
but that doesn’t make sense.
much of what we have to relate doesn’t make sense.
except for gazorbnik showing us the way to it.
of course there is good and evil.
that’s what everything is based on.
but what if there wasn’t?
where would we be then?
would we feel anything?
would we think anything?
would we experience anything?
would we be anything?

the play of everything with itself of ordered patterns shape shifting swirling spiraling about the universe never repeating the same ever again and such like that.
he likes it all in box with a lid.
he likes to know this from that from the other thing.
objects to create sustain destroy yet the fundamental nature of it is supposedly preserved if we ever knew what its fundamental nature is exactly.
they’re working on it with their own theory of everything to explain all.
our own theory is never complete.
how can it be?
how can any theory of everything be complete when everything itself is not complete?
not when it is boundless infinity.
any theory that completes itself is finite.
the finite cannot describe infinity.
there will always be +1 more forever.
1 > infinity.
imagine that in your hat.

he is smoking like a fiend.
the fiend within.
our own worst enemy.
what will it take to get it to behave?
an act of will?
he is will-less.
he’s too lazy and too tired.
he is a creature of many habits.
he faces east as he types out more of the infamous epic not poem.
he writes as he thinks as he writes on and on confused with questions he tries to imagine answers for from what he knows and/or what comes to mind in the moment.
all is peace, love and understanding.
damn hippies.

all is scarcity and self-interest and $$$.
that’s what makes the world go around.
time’s a-wasting.
do it.
do it now.
don’t be a bum.
bums are no good and won’t be tolerated.
not in our brave new world as it is.
the experiment continues.
so far all systems are go.
he reports to the committee about the progress of the project.
the object of total control.
there are those who feel so destined as to take command.
there are those who happily follow wanting none of it.
there are those misfits who don’t fit in anywhere.
what do we allow them when it all comes down?
we are jettisoned as part of their master plan.
the corporate pigs claiming more and more wealth and power.
they manipulate public opinion in their favor though there are fringe naysayers that not enough listen to or believe or organize.
they receive a smattering of applause and some boos and jeers.
the audience in the burning theater will not tolerate bullshit.
they are awaiting the chosen one to come as promised.

he has a hot dog.
he follows instructions to do what makes himself happy more or less.
many believe happiness is an illusion.
truth produces freedom but agonizing despair when our eye is opened.
many believe happiness is for the privileged few while the rest of us are on our own.
he has found this not to be true pretty much.
he has seen happy bums and miserable privileged.
he has gazorbnik.
gazorbniking makes him happy.
everything else, not so much.
most things cause worry and concern about them.
gazorbnik remains consistent.
gazorbnik is within everything.
gazorbnik turns everything on.
gazorbnik don’t do shit.
but seriously, he takes a nap.

he awakens.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
his baby discussing end of the world scenarios with his grandson.
it’s all the rage to speculate about.
eat or be eaten.
so he continues typing out a not poem.
he has to drive a car in a parade tomorrow.
he makes an egg and cheddar sandwich for his baby.
everything goes well so far.
thanks to gazorbnik or whatever.
thanks to the lord god in the highest.
crazy times around him with him in it.
whirl-a-gig thing.
wheee… ???

but this is the drama of it.
far from the ideal dharma.
dharma set in concrete.
rigid social control.
we are who we are told to be.
medication time.

another cigarette.
he continues thinking what comes to mind about everything.
he worries  about everything that could go wrong.
but there is no right or wrong.
except in the world of dualism.
to step out of this world into another.
gazorbniking it into being real.
all from an invisible golden dragon shitting a singularity and all that jazz as the result to us sitting here wondering whatever the fuck about it which is more than we could ever entirely comprehend but perhaps understand.
or not.

our reason only goes so far with its finite understanding.
our imagining continues further into infinity.
the rational and irrational in dance together along a continuum in dualistic opposition.
and news of more shootings and such.
are these continuums strings?
vibrating energy waves radiating from everything everywhere everywhen.
what’s what and what’s not?
which is which?
rationalogic will not tolerate this reasoning of this sort of gazorbniking type business that they claim leads us astray further into delusion and madness.
yes, it does.
somebody’s gotta do it, why not us?
or else the entire structure collapses if there is no one who are mad in it.
but with gazorbnik there are no set chiseled in stone rules but the flowing rules of the river steadily eroding away at the rationalogic world we live in.
with our theory of everything there are not truths but every truth that is ever thought of.
when these truths can come together in peace, love and understanding which many profess to believe in but usually only if their truth is supreme.
how do we best organize a labor force to use and profit from?
to get them to believe in one truth.
$$$ is the only truth they all hold in common, yet they deny it.
the love of $$$ is the root of all evil they are told.
the material world is illusion they are taught.
invest in heaven.
this is what the pigs want us to believe while they grab it all for themselves.
reduce the competition.
confuse the enemy.
victory.

there is truth in all truths.
but is there one truth to be true in all truths?
gazorbnik?
we doubt that.
gazorbnik is not truth.
gazorbnik is pure self-deceiving fantasy and lies.
gazorbnik is meaningless.
it means whatever we might believe it or doubt it to mean.
being is not always meaning and/or vice versa.
meaning is imaginary metaphorical symbolic doo-dah that may at times have little connection to from which it derives its meaning.
huh?
gazorbnik is not for everyone but the few and far between.
meaning may or may not be truth.
we have yet in all this time to agree on what is truth besides what rationalogic tells us is truth based on the facts and figures of it.
the truth could be an infinitesimal cosmic banana for all we might know that could all be very much mistaken as it has been shown to us in the past about what we are convinced is truth being proven not truth.
but humans do not live by rationalogic alone.
we have evolved imagination for some purpose determining us being fit to survive.
imagination tempered with reason.
imagination as 6th sense or something like that.
the mind’s eye.
with most of us it is out of whack in some way from whatever our nature and/or experiences have been.
and the constant indoctrinations by the pigs and their minions throughout the world in whatever cultural form they might take.
to rule by mastering the collective will until others come to master it better otherwise but with the same objective in mind of domination and control.
in the name of truth.

and with truth comes justice which is revenge in disguise to set things right again.
out with the old and in with the new.
out with the new and in with the old.
does it matter which?
when everything is out of balance one way or the other.
but it always has been is will be.
this is true dharma, not the prescribed idealized balanced dharma we usually think it is.
there is no set form.
there is endless change.
endless change that is unchanging.
unchanging as the sea always being the sea no matter the shape it might take at any given moment.
the ideal of static balance is death not living life.
and la-dee-da like that and then some.

he has frustration dreams.
he can’t find his way or can’t put something together.
he wakes in a panic of dread.
and life mimics these dreams in reality.
relaxed steady patience.
watch and wait.
breathe.
gazorbnik.

gazorbnik is the most useless thing there is.
it does nothing by confound everything.

but it makes us think – to think anew.
it can lead to realization but not always.
it can lead into further heights and depths of madness.
the mad are blessed with a curse.
he would be nothing otherwise.
he is not envious of and/or tempted by others and the paths they choose or are chosen for them.
do any of us have a choice?
he suspects not as he makes a meatloaf sandwich.

he is nowhere close to anything worth much of much.
his delusions with himself and everything.
just as the wise guys warn us not to fall into.
there seems no way out.
abandon all hope and all that jazz.
like a living hell for many.
he has visited that realm often along the way he has come to eventually understand it for what it is.
the initiation into the magick of madness he has learned to imagine for himself.
he may be entirely wrong in the opinion of others compared with their truths but what he has come to understand he has thought out for himself not to be thought out for him.
groupthink people marching around like they own the place which they probably do.
groupthink gets things done – things that make $$$.
gazorbnik gets nothing done but what it does with our minds.
it has many various ways to do this for each individual often without them knowing anything is being done.
gazorbnik is for the individual.
gazorbnik cannot be applied collectively or else it no longer works the same but just becomes another tool for the pigs to control which may eventually happen or perhaps already has.
it is difficult to determine which or what.

ghosts in space.
everything in space.
spacetime funtime.
thrills and chills.
the roller coaster ride of existing in this world as it appears.
does it appear the same to all?
perhaps or not.
we each interpret different meanings it has at the very least.
some meanings are more successful than others.
meanings that make $$$.
meanings that lead us to further suffering.
he takes another toke.
coughing and hacking.
meanings that guide us to further revelations of everything as they come to mind as it comes and goes as he is able to tune into it or not.
the vibrations of peace, love and understanding are subtle and covered over with the noise of the world at large.
to calm ourselves enough to perceive and receive them.
to be mad enough to imagine them.

it’s all mixed up to him to be not the way he would have it if he were to decide.
the world as a stalemate of wills in contest with one another.
he understands that it works to a certain extent and how it works more or less but it seems a needless waste with so many who are the losers.
couldn’t it be a compromise of wills worked out agreeably by all parties involved such that everyone could benefit?
or something like that.
we shall see.

but for now we are each in it for ourselves even among those in collective groups from a circle of friends to global organizations whether we realize it or not.
we each are in it as those who are each unique to ourselves.
alone together.
collectives of individuals.
an elaborate game that he finds somewhat interesting observing but not wanting to be part of it but that is not an option.
but he avoids it as much as he can.
that’s his plan.
it doesn’t need to be anyone else’s.
no one’s plan needs to be anyone else’s except the collective plan designed by high mucky muck overlords down through the various ranked levels of their minions top to bottom.
and so on.

but that is of the world and has little to do with us besides what we need to live in it while we are here.
he chose a simple life free of as many responsibilities as he could get away with to be lazy and have time to pursue happiness while others dive into it wholeheartedly to succeed in it and make lottsa $$$.
that’s too much like work to him.
but these folk climb their way to the top and take over cuz no one stands in their way though all of us suffer because of them and their greed.
but we ultimately get the blame for that for not being good enough.
but what are we to do but divorce ourselves apart from the scheme as we are able?
some are more able than others.
many do not even notice anything at all.
we each are one against the world allied with others who we come to more or less trust enough and/or can profit from and/or they profit from us.
all sorts of relationships individual to individual weaving the collective social tapestry web thing together for us or against us manipulating or manipulated to be in with some and out with others on and on.
he never realized all this when he had a chance to do something about it.
now he just laughs at his youthful ignorance.
we are not mad.
we are designated and labeled mad.
but it’s when we don’t know for ourselves if we are mad or not that we become insane.
and many do not come out of it again.
first it is then it is not then it is.

another toke.
dreaming away between writing this or that or the other thing as they come to mind.
a life of dreaming dreams and waking up far too late.
but he has always been on this way to some degree or another in zigzag roundabout wanderings hither and yon around the bend over the hills and far away.
always following what he thought were instructions he was telepathically receiving from higher beings of some sort on the gazorbnik channel before there was gazorbnik.
he understands now what it might possibly be.
and he cannot reveal everything about it.
he either isn’t allowed or cannot describe or doesn’t know.
people spying on him all the time everywhere.
who is he?
who do they think he is?
do they even know or are they following their own instructions from outer space?
just doing their job.
just like he’s doing his job.
we’re all just doing our jobs or playing our parts or whatever no matter what we do or why we’re doing it.
what is everything?
what does everything mean?
two different questions with different answers that are riddles of further questions.
the rationalogicists will calculate what everything is.
the irrationalogicists will imagine what everything means.
rationalogic rejects everything imaginary.
it demands proof.
there is only imaginary proof.

he sleeps.

he awakens again out of dreams into a dream.
a dream dreamt by ourselves as other.
we are splintered images of the i am in the maze of mirrors.
a swirling vortex matrix of all being coming alive experiencing thinking feeling.
born naked unsuspecting.
confused and hungry.
existing on natural instinct to survive.
the wonder of it as we learn to adapt with what is and to find meaning within our experience for ourselves and within the collective belief structure thing.
and to learn to make coffee to keep ourselves awake which he does.

there is something wrong about all this but he’s not sure what or how.
there ought to be something wrong with this since he knows little about anything.
it’s only a not poem.
it’s not anything really serious.
vague impressions of what everything might be or not.
a peanut butter bacon sandwich.
more coffee.
a cigarette.

we follow the rules whether we follow the rules or not.
everything is logical.
logic never fails.
but rationalogic or irrationalogic?
he chooses neither/both.
one or the other alone is no good.
rationalogic stifles us.
irrationalogic makes us crazy.
a blending of the two is needed for balance out of balance along on the continuum.

everything is as it should be otherwise it would be different.
we must find ways to adjust to it like it or not.
we are strange visitors from another planet.
kidnapped and brought here by space pirates from our blue neptunian home sweet home.
fuckers.
don’t come the way we’ve gone.
be productive happy citizens.
everybody will be better off.
the lazy life is a troubled life.
too many thoughts in our heads about useless nothing.
be independent climbing that ladder toward success doing our own thing.
stand out but for all the right reasons not the wrong ones.
wear heaven’s crown.
if only he had known this back when.
he was told but he did not believe or even quite understand.
he thought he could get away with it which he kinda did and didn’t.
by the grace of god.

the endless emptiness of it if one chooses to perceive it that way.
or the overflowing fullness of it.

that’s all for now.
he has to go drive in a parade.

thoughts from the void

imagining sitting before the computer gazing out the window at people driving trucks up the street typing out a not-poem about our theory of everything.

the crime of love.
the time of hate.
the reason for it all.
believing.
bleeding.
and god.
and a dog.

not quite knowing what we’re doing but unable to stop ourselves.
it’s much too late by now.
we’re on our way.
destination unknown undiscovered.
what more do we want?
we want it all.
we want it now.
all unreason is ours for the others to wonder about how to make us behave ourselves which we refuse until our demands are met.

quack.
we begin by being.
we begin by realizing i am.
we open our eye to the void.
an empty canvas for us to paint as we please.
what do we feel?
what do we think?
we imagine everything happening at once in constant confusion settling into order as we desire for it to become.

he becomes tired.
life has done him in.
he squandered his chances for eternity.
he squandered his chances to become anyone he might choose.
he never could figure it out.
a silence descends upon him.
a silence of anxious peace he has become quite used to as his natural state of mind at rest for the time being as being human in a world appearing out of the play of light and shadow on the face of the deep.
a void of no space nor time nor anything but his mind thinking i am.

just kidding.
none of this is real.
wake up.
pay attention.
this will be on the test.
the test of the fate of our soul everlasting in torment or bliss or somewhere in the middle between.
it’s medication time.

it has been pretty much supposed that punishment does not deter crime.
so why is god so stupid?
but god is perfect, so god is right.
we are wrong.
so the wise guys tell us.
but there is no god that might be detected by our senses therefore it does not exist.
technically they are correct.
an infinite god cannot exist within finite parameters.
they are exacting that way.
we are more free with our definitions.
if it can be imagined then it exists.
our imagination as a sense to detect what the other senses do not.
perhaps.
or not.

he feels being out among people that he is still on a childhood playground the way we behave where we learned our basic social skills one way or another.
he watches and waits.
who are the few and far between among them?
look closely.
anyone?
everyone?

cleverly disguised as no one he gets by unnoticed.
nothing to see here, move along.
an observation point.
writing a report to the committee as a not poem.
the project is ahead of schedule and under budget.
all is well.

everything ultimately as one.
1 > infinity.
we can’t get there from here.
he chews some bazooka.
he scrambles some eggs for him and his baby.
everywhere is here.
god is here, undetectable but by imagination.
we are here.
the exact center of infinity is here.
everything is infinity.
everything is 0.
he sleeps.

he awakens.
the blues.
a cigarette.
a feeling of impending disaster looms over him.
one of the drawbacks of being mad.
but is it madness?
in reality anything can happen.
as the gods decide to cast fate upon us.
the gods can be cruel.
it’s medication time.

and he comes to the café.
mocha.
he’s not really awake as yet.
still partly dreaming.
radio making unnecessary noise people seem comforted by that he finds annoying.
he prefers silence.
he prefers his thinking which others seem to wanna avoid their own and need stimulating distractions.
little in this world is as he would have it.
but everyone probably feels that same way.
all these other fuckers fucking everything up.
they could die and we wouldn’t be that concerned about it but would feel perhaps relieved.
it would be quiet.
it’s just a mood he gets into once in a while.

is this world some sorta testing ground for us to earn points toward transcending our way out of it?
transcend to what?
higher more refined planes of perception and existence more perfect as we approach the perfect godhead?
but how perfect is it?
perfect being what?
is everything perfect except this world?
that seems rather strange.
perfection/imperfection is another duality continuum thing.
a matter of our perception.
a matter of taste?
are all our ideas of what is perfection the same?
nope.
he declares everything perfect with its imperfections.
if we decide to perceive it that way then is that how it is?
or something like that.

we find our own space and time to be able to be in the state of mind to perceive perfection even in the world as is.
he perceives perfection in the earth, the world is another matter.
the world human created by those of us who perceived the earth as wanting under the influence of the spell of the knowledge of good and evil we build the world to overcome.
but the earth itself is paradise of abundance while the world is filled with scarcity.
the earth tends to itself while the world needs constant vigilant maintenance or it collapses.
the earth is a playground while the world is a workshop.
he would like to live with the earth but where do we find it anymore?
who is prepared for it?
not him.
he is a child of the world in all its tyranny.
without it he is dead meat.

he doesn’t know what to do.
he is mad in relation to this world.
he is mad in relation to the earth.
he has nowhere to turn.
so he sits here in the café scribbling a not poem about our theory of everything for all it is worth.
all that perfection means.
no mistakes or flaws.
completely correct or accurate.
having all qualities wanted.
satisfying all requirements.
corresponding to an ideal standard or abstract concept.
faithfully reproducing the original.
lacking no essential detail.
and like that.
doesn’t the world qualify to at least some of these?

the world is perfect as it is but not compared with an ideal of perfection.
what is a mistake or flaw?
we are told the mistake and flaw in this world are ourselves.
we’re just a buncha fuck ups.
who tells us this but the wise guys in league with the pigs to keep us oppressed and doing our job?
to realize perfection we need to realize it within ourselves to be ourselves.
but others judge us otherwise and we judge others otherwise.
everyone is guilty.
everyone is to blame.
no one wants us around.
everything would be perfect without us.
we should all die.
save the world.
kill yourself.

the feeling arises in us that we are not good enough.
all heaven and hell comes from this.
perfection above.
imperfection below.
we are told we must rise above ourselves to seek higher ground.
up in the trees free as a breeze.
our social ranking is devised from this.
the higher the status the higher in the tree.
to shit and piss on the rest.
we still position ourselves this way and it is ingrained in our use of language and thinking.

opening doors to the other side where it is better than being here as it is believed in popular opinion.
everyone wants to escape.
everyone wants out.
to reach for perfection for our true happiness.
the closer to perfection the closer to happiness.
the closer to god.
but for him he derives happiness from imperfections within the ideal of perfection others seem to have.
to see weeds growing through cracks in a sidewalk and such like.
changing perfection rather than static perfection.
the perfection of water opposed to the perfection of stone.
but he chooses neither/both.

to allow the world to gently return to the earth before it suddenly collapses on its own.
but that will not happen probably.
the world continues to stagger on throughout our wavering history of rise and fall of civilizations.
this is perfection in the real as opposed to the ideal that is often imposed on the real to mimic.
this world is perfect in its own right as being the perfect best and the perfect worst of all possible perfect worlds.
it has all the qualities wanted satisfying all requirements and lacking no essential detail in both respect of being best and worst.
why worst?
isn’t perfection supposed to be best?
that is the ideal.
everyone wants the best for themselves.
but best and worst are relative to those experiencing them.
the best for one is the worst for another.
and as with any other duality the two are both complementary and in opposition.
and la-dee-da about that.

he knows nothing.
he views those in torment and to who avenues to enlightenment are far removed and inaccessible.
perhaps in further lifetimes they might be more fortunate and reach it.
should he trust this?
we all come from the same muck and mire of the world before attaining higher levels of consciousness that brings us to what we most desire to be perfect in heaven or hell or somewhere on the continuum between and beyond.
we cannot determine what perspectives others are basing their view of reality which is not one thing but many things.
and there is the individual and the collective ideals of it.
a rock is a rock.
is it the best rock?
is it the worst?
it’s just an ordinary rock yet it is perfect in and of itself for what it is if we decide to perceive it that way.
put it in your pocket.

it’s not what things are that we judge them but for what they are compared to what we feel they ought to be.
to perceive perfection in everything without this judgment.
he has a rock in his pocket not because it is perfect in the sense it has value to others like it being gold or a diamond or something but because it is perfect in its ordinariness.
it is a rock that can be found almost anywhere.
no one would think twice about it.
this is how we should view the world to see its perfection.
if one wants to that is.
no big deal if not.

it’s quite simple once we get through all the complicated shit to get to it.
and he wonders why that is.
why should we not have innate knowledge of this?
few of us are told about it but instead we are filled with useless information designed to make us productive citizens.
everything is such a struggle against everything.
becuz this world is the best and the worst.
and we’re a buncha fuck ups.
the worst fuck ups possible.
shape up or ship out.
or get on it.

and this isn’t anything but what one person gathered together from information accessible to pretty much everyone if they look for it and to think about one’s own experiences.
if he can do it then anyone should be able to.
but it takes a certain perspective of mind to think this way and to attract the information we need when we need it according to our understanding.
but maybe this is his lifetime that it happens and for others it’s not.

so in a tenuous situation that could collapse at any given moment it feels like or not he is fairly satisfied with his existence more or less thus far along the way toward further understanding as he perhaps deludes himself into thinking but even if that is the case, so be it.
there’s all sortsa shit he doesn’t like about the world that mainly centers around the actions of his fellow humans but they work hard for nothing almost to provide him with just about anything he might need or want which they give him $$$ to pay for.
but they’re always fucking with shit, mostly one another, instead of letting it go its own way.
but they won’t allow that though in the long term it could make our lives that much easier maybe.
when the power goes out he likes people fucking with shit to get it back on though perhaps eventually they won’t.
he lives by the grace of fate guided perhaps by god that has been kind thus far though he often felt otherwise.
but he is privileged to some extent to have had advantages others have not.
he doesn’t understand why this must be.
all should have equal advantage.
all should have equal upbringing and education regardless of social status which needs to wither away.
but there’s no room in the top of the trees for all of the monkeys.
but all this is nothing that hasn’t been pointed out before by others in more intelligent detailed analysis and blah blah blah.
he continues though it is so much babbling while he watches and waits while life goes on.
he needs to go to the store for supplies.

this is only his experience of it.
limited experience at that.
and remember, he is an idiot.
this world is based on frustration.
but we learn from our frustration toward understanding.
he has found this to be true.
frustrated that the world is not as perfect for us as it should be in our opinion.
we mostly try to change the world and not ourselves or our perception to adjust our ideals to account for actual reality.
he realized that the majority of frustration he feels is self-generated driven by expectations of things turning out differently than they are.
expectations are based in desire and fear, our primary motivators.
we want something or to get away from something.
we do not get what we want nor get away.

he comes home.
a toke.
a cigarette.
transmigration of soul/spirit/self.
the self within ourselves.
he never much understood what that means.
a cup of sea water poured back into the sea.
a vehicle we inhabit in this world until it breaks down and we find another.
bodies within bodies more and more refined to the point of not existing at all.
none of this makes shit sense to him.
how many selves?
how many bodies?
russian dolls to eternity.
he doubts that but if it is absurd it must be true.
we are to find it within.
he searches empty rooms for himself not himself.
he finds no one.
not even a reflection in a mirror.
what happened?

it gets more and more complicated when it should be getting more and more simple.
if it’s not simple then how are the simple to understand?
if the simple cannot understand then what are we doing here the fuck for anyway?
we don’t believe in magick answers.
we want to know exactly what and how otherwise no one has anything to tell us about nothing.
is this a masquerade party?
everybody in costume.
oh boy.
what fun.
not.
not with pain and suffering.
whose idea of a party is that?
how did they get to decide and not us?

no, we are to be thankful for life.
the wise guys tell us the world is nothing and our mortal selves are nothing.
then what the fuck are we doing here besides to work for the pigs till we drop?
fuck the pigs.
let them clean their own goddamn toilets.
it’s a scam scheme.
we are kidnapped by space pirates and brought here against our will to provide slave labor for the reptilian overlords and their master plan to pillage the earth to leave us with nothing.
and the wise guys are in on it telling us make believe stories to distract us from our plight.
we want our lives as we want to enjoy for the time being evermore.

or maybe that’s not right either.
begin again.
i am.
a being ever existing and/or willing itself to exist.
whatever.
it can do anything as there is nothing prohibiting or preventing it from doing so becuz other than itself is void.
so it does everything at once.
everything explodes onto the scene creating spacetime with which to do everything with as it wills the ensuing chaos into ordered patterns to become any countless number of things.
and this i am walks into a maze of mirrors reflecting itself into images of light and shadow with each having their own identity though each is still i am.
these reflecting images exist for mere flashing moments as the i am passes through them creating sustaining destroying them transforming itself through them and their experiences of everything.
and after a while it all runs down to 0 and poofs outta existence.

he lights a cigarette.
none of this might be true.
he’s making it up.
it’s medication time.

om peace peace peace

OM PEACE PEACE PEACE

he awakens though he is still asleep.
he poops.
he takes his meds.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
he feeds the fat black cat.
he wonders what might come to mind about what to write this morning if anything.
nothing is any one thing or the other except in our finite impression of it dividing categorizing.
the objective scientific unchanging static observation of dead things.
garbage in, garbage out.
but this rationalogic way of thinking works in the world making $$$ so it is placed above all other ways of thinking.
one thing about gazorbniking is it doesn’t make $$$.
it doesn’t cost $$$ either, so fuck it.
let’s do it.
let’s see where the fuck we might end up.
let’s take a chance on heaven or hell.
he chooses neither/both.
when we gazorbnik we are allowed to do that whereas rationalogic denies it.
rationalogic states that one thing cannot be two things.
but that’s not what it means at all.
rationalogic looks at specific things.
gazorbnik looks at totality of everything which is infinite.
infinity is an entirely different set of rules – if any.
do what thou wilt type shit.
flesh without sin.
nothing is forbidden, everything is permitted.
etc.

gazorbnik presents itself as madness to the others.
that is a social cultural category of rationalogic reality we are placed in.
we are not mad, are we?
so what if we are?
the diversity of the world seeping through the boundary lines of rationalogic thought as is part of the master divine plan.
logic never fails.
bestiality never quits.

wherever there might be common ground of peace.
then there will be common ground of war.
everything seeking balance in a world of continuing continuums.
a world of waves coming and going on all levels from everything everywhere everywhen so far.
it could be gone in a wink.
gone with 1 bullet.

all he can say is, wow?
what a show this has turned out to be found nowhere else in the universe but here now – wherever whenever that might be.
onstage in the burning theater.
not understanding a word of it.
babbling drama of it.
everything as it should be otherwise it would be different from itself which it is in many respects.
each of everything in contradiction with something else except for those of us who have found balance out of balance ongoing continuing thing of it.
this is all how it can exist with binary polar complementary opposites in opposition creating the vibrating energies bringing everything into being though all opposites are ultimately complementary in the larger picture of everything toward infinity.
and all that jazz.

so, what can we agree on?
what do we all generally agree on already no matter how opposed we might be on many topics?
a rock is a rock?
but many will disagree.
some will disagree becuz they disagree with everything.
some will disagree cuz they have other different ideas about it.
a rock in and of itself as it seems to appear to us whatever reality that may or may not be is a rock.
whatever characteristics of being a rock might be in actuality, that is what a rock is.
if there is actuality.
but if there’s not then it changes nothing of what we define a rock as ultimately being or not.
we make the proper adjustments.
rocks in our pockets.
he has a rock in his pocket for years that he remembers vaguely where or when.
perhaps when he first heard the word gazorbnik in his head that time long ago that he doesn’t remember either.
he cuts and mixes up some chicken salad for a sandwich and remembers he forgot the pepper.
calling up a name of an angel/demon thing for guidance and protection.
it has brought nothing but confusion.
he’ll know better next time, but for now it’s too late.
|||| |||
kinbrozag.

at some point it crosses the line set out by the rationalogicists marking off their reality from any other reality they wish to deny.
realities of meaning.
he takes a nap.

he awakens.
he waters the plants outside after a hot day.
he goes out to get cigarettes.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
ready to go, man, go.

but does it go anywhere?
where do we want it to go?
what do we want it to do?
should it answer our questions?
should it entertain us?
SEX.
a mint chocolate chip ice cream sandwich.
his baby watching her tv.
what are our questions?
who? what? where? when? how? why?
who is i am.
what is god [sic].
where is here.
when is now.
how is because.
why is why not?
there we have it.
are we entertained yet?

he debates wanting to make another chicken salad sandwich or just smoke another cigarette.
he takes another toke to think about it and to entertain himself.
isn’t this world supposed to be a playground?
but the pigs turned it into a workshop.
earth and nature provides entertainment in abundance if one is tuned to it even through the world built on top of it.
he looks east toward the mountain.
power poles and wires stand between in the view but that is all about what it is here now to still enjoy both together in discordant harmony of yin yang thing in balance out of balance along all continuums of reality as we know it as it appears to us through our senses devised from our imagination perhaps.
it is difficult yet simple.
meanwhile billions are suffering in diverse various ways.
quick like a bunny.
idealism is a luxury of the aristocrat.
we should all have such luxury.
but would we use this luxury to do what?
answer our questions?
entertain ourselves?
he chooses neither/both.
our answers should be entertaining.
that’s where myths come from.
myths in all fields of our endeavors.
stories to tell the children who many still believe as they grow older such as we did.
everything we know is wrong.
figure it out how to make it right as we see fit for ourselves and our own purposes individually collectively alone together without the interference of the pigs and their propaganda disinformation indoctrination media machine scrambling the mix.
code word: itanimulli.

gathering up information as much as we can about everything as much as we might understand.
our answers are tangles of riddles of further questions on and on.
so much fun.
endlessly entertaining.
endlessly enlightening.
find it where we can from comic books to scripture, from rock and roll to rocket science.
from this to that from that to the other thing along on variants of continuums spiraling in never repeating cycles of waves of blinking on/off patterns of binary particles alone in the void becoming aware of itself as i am wandering along on pathless paths through the experience of existence.
a tiny spider walks across the desk.
he has cobwebs in his brain in unused rooms behind doors he has learned to open.
the rooms are empty.
it’s a joke like everything else it seems much of the time.

the public burning of the sacrificial child as seen on tv giving us power to withstand our tribulations among ourselves in our darkest hours always before the dawning of the age of aquarius horus whatever groove thing.
he don’t know shit about nothing.
he makes uneducated guesses from what little he has managed to learn from anything he happens to come across along the ways and means of his life thus far.
on the edge of suicide much of the time.
the emergency escape route.
when it all comes down.
to have lived in the glory days for what they are worth with everything hanging over our heads like a dark cloud all the time.
peace through strength.
strength to kill whoever fucks with us.
there are so many from everywhere in every direction we turn.
they have us surrounded.
it was fun while it lasted.
crazy times indeed.

he has one last toke before sleep.
another cigarette.
time goes on forever until it ends as everything gradually comes to a dead stop and blips outta existence.
and perhaps what happens once happens again.
what are the chances?
paper chains of universes one born from the other in its death on and on and on… ???
a continuing series of total creating sustaining destroying of everything that is perceived to be as it appears to be as it is as much as we know about it being or not being what we call reality perhaps not being reality.
this apples to whatever reality we ultimately perceive as being reality by whatever means we might have to determine it being reality that may involve more than and/or other than our senses to perceive its true real nature.
our imagination comes into play as much as we may trust it.
as much as we trust anything anymore by now.

what is life without death and decay?
as it is as it has happened by happenstance between order and chaos to be that way in this world and universe.
always something eternal but not always the same something ever changing one something to another and another and so on and on.
birth life death.
he goes to sleep.

he awakens.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
his brain gradually spinning into motion as he gazes out the window at a hot morning bright with sun but the air hazy with humidity.
a real class act.
coughing hunched over the keyboard typing out a not poem about our theory of everything and complications thereof and such, etc. as is explained in the theory itself.
a nonexclusive theory of everything.
but how can any theory of everything not be nonexclusive?
???
anyway, he continues typing about what may come to mind which right now is nothing.
what has meaning anymore but supposedly some dragged out archaic rituals from ancient times the pigs enjoy parading themselves around performing for the adulation of the crowds at their door.
they play to the lowest common denominator among us and have a record breaking hit.
the masses are abuzz gossiping about it for days until the next program is scheduled.
hide, witch, hide.

we make do with what we got.
the pigs make sure we ain’t got much.
the wise guys tell us to renounce everything, put it outta our minds.
the simple life has always been the easiest to endure for the most part except for certain times of trouble but that worked in our favor ultimately for some unknown reason.
it’s just fate.
it’s just the workings of karma or some such.
it’s nothing.

entangled in these eternal cycles spiraling never repeating the same ever.
entangled in the world.
we are of the world that has made it so we might continue to survive whereas we might not otherwise.
we could not exist at any other place or time than here now.
this is it.
it is it.

the moment of quiet contentment.
the moment of terrible excitement.
ever changing.
it comes and goes.
waves on a beach of an island in the eye of a storm on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
we are at the heart of everything.
everything is within our hearts.
we sing and dance.
we fall down.
we laugh.

he lights another cigarette.
our theory of everything seems to be that first there may have been “bob”.
we may suspect this is not true but can we prove it’s not?
and “bob” gets touched by the noodly appendage of the flying spaghetti monster producing slack.
“bob” lights his pipe and a golden dragon appears in the smoke thereof.
the golden dragon subsequently shits a singularity exploding instantly into a spacetime universe of mundane murky existence from which grows a lotus blossom of eternal bliss consciousness floating calmly on the surface of a still pond in the light and shadow of reality.
and this is not everything.
everything is quite beyond pale reality even in the bright sun of a new dawn of a new age on a world in the exact center of infinity which may be entirely imaginary.
then there’s the dada-ananda (deliberate irrationality – bliss) manifesting itself as guru jeff who is found by us digging in a dumpster behind the 7-11 through who all is revealed slowly to our understanding.
but there is no beginning nor end to everything.
it continues from forever to forever appearing as a finite universe in between somewhere in the middle where we’re at evolved from some amino acid goop of some sort of star dust seeding the earth brought into life with chance bolts of lightning in the hot seas.
we are on a divine mission for everything to know itself.
we process bits of data we receive and transmit in communal communications of information as we discover further reaches of endless possibilities.
as he cooks up some home fries.
but many have become moralistic about it judging and rewarding the obedient and punishing others for transgressions against their self-interest outlined in laws disguised and made up as being divine.
and they hang that over our heads and promise a time of heavenly salvation and retribution.
that all should not deter us from our appointed rounds as is our calling.
it’s a mixed up situation.
the puzzle pieces scrambled across the kitchen floor in the temple we need to fit together in uncertain ways until it makes enough sense to us with its meaning if we so choose that endeavor in our isolation or to idly chatter the latest groupthink gossip about the ongoing drama of our estranged lives apart together.
everything appears to exist by tricks of light and shadow in complementary opposition neither being able to be without the other.
purity is nothingness.
another toke.
there must be contrast in order for there to be perceived existence.
no contrast is no distinction between anything and anything.
it’s blank as nirvana.
and this seems to be some people’s goal to attain.
good luck.
we just like hanging around down and out on easy street.
ain’t in no hurry to get nowhere (now here).
it is what it is and ain’t what it ain’t.
we like it just fine and dandy for all of that.
the best and worst of all possible worlds.
blood flavored cotton candy.
our wild imaginings of flights of fantasy worlds going by and by.
still here at the old same place.
everything as it ever is here now.
pop mysticism.
mumbling mantras in our sleep in divine dreamy slumber.
whatever we might want to in a moment as fate allows.
creepy crawly up the wall.
sooner or later we’re bound to fail and fall.
pushing buttons activating signals sent out into a world of signals mixing matching this way that way the other way on and on.
a meaningless void filled with noise of ordered confusion.
a joyful noise of living life as heard throughout the universe from particles to galaxies and ourselves somewhere in the middle exact center of infinity as else is everything everywhere everywhen.
except we bitch about shit too.
it’s all part of the mix.
do particles and galaxies have mood swings?
or is it just us?
he checks the lottery ticket and comes up a loser.
is it just us becuz we are living on an insane asylum planet left to our own devices out of harm’s way isolated from others in the higher more refined celestial cosmic spheres until we learn to behave properly among them as we should?
follow the unspoken rules.
rules are made up meant to uphold order.
chaos is thought to be a great evil.
both are needed to make the world go around in a great cosmic donut dunked into a cup of coffee ambrosia at the counter of some dive diner on easy street along with the rest of the bums hanging around the wrong part of town.
this topsy turvy world of fun and excitement and boring humdrum.
sensory titillations and the peace within.
he eats a pretzel getting stuck in his broken teeth.
he often makes people wonder what the fuck.
he makes them feel nervous.
then why aren’t they the ones taking the meds? – but they are too as well.
everybody is happy.

aardvark

coughing hacking at the counter at the diner scribbling in a spiral magick notebook some more of the infamous epic not poem about our theory of everything continuing as the universe continues for whatever reason that might be that we have yet to discover that we all or most might agree on which may not be necessary in regard to the individual who thinks what they think whatever but is important to the collective who are told what to groupthink in order to function together to make $$$ for the pigs.
the 4 legs good 2 legs better piggies thinking themselves to be important cuz they have assumed control over everything controlling everyone to get their jollies jerking themselves off with the power they possess stolen from the people who are too disorganized among themselves to resist without leaders taking over and telling them what to do which is the problem to begin with.
thick as another brick in the wall.

who doesn’t know what’s going on by now?
but the pigs feel so secure in their power that the secrets of their success can be revealed without it being any threat to them.
the nazi-zionist illuminati reptilian alien overlords who have ruled since there are written records and probably past beyond that forever back in time since we were wiggly squiggly life forms in the eat or be eaten primordial seas.
this is their god given right and privilege according to their working theory backed up by rationalogic thinking stating what is and what is not in precise definite terms they insist must be correct and more importantly everything else is incorrect and punishable by law.

being told as a child there is this thing called god .
he has wondered about what exactly it is and is supposed to mean.
and us being not god but these mortal disposable things this god may wish to destroy at any given moment in a fit of anger with us.
rocking and a-grooving to the hit parade on the jukebox.
unending.
unbeginning.
un-anything.
becoming whatever we might become as ourselves.
it is needlessly overcomplicated to his way of thinking.
this dharma hierarchy of order and rank and position.
to ascend over lifetimes from the bottom to the top.
but that might just be us and how we believe it to be that may or may not correspond to its reality.
what is reality to god?
the void?
a throne in heaven?
a dream?
a meadow of daisies?

pity god cuz for all its almighty powers it is still ultimately alone for all of no time being nowhere (now here).
to go mad and imagine creating creatures to keep itself company and a spacetime universe to place them in.
it hopes they will love it as it loves itself.
all for needing love.
but this is a dysfunctional god of ill social graces demanding absolute love and obedience to its will being jealous of anything placed before it.
this god that hadn’t been raised by anyone who may have taught and guided it how to behave itself but acts on whims based on rudimental emotional desires and fears as we are advised not to do for ourselves.
there is something definitely wrong with this picture.

a picture of everything as he presently understands it – sorta.
this god of our fathers who they worship to grant them wealth and power according to its blessings.
and it has granted them that on and off depending on how much they believe and how well they follow its laws and commands.
and we feel ourselves to be wiser now with all the knowledge we have acquired.
to many there is no god.
to many there are many gods.
to many there is one god.
to us there is everything that we name as gazorbnik that it takes our gazorbniking to understand.

the gestalt of everything as being consciousness and all that entails.
the original i am.
the original being.
everything else it creates sustains destroys transforming it moment by immeasurable moment ever flowing timestream through an ever changing mindscape.
it wills itself into existence.
exploding into the void laughing screaming alone with no ear to hear but its own.
imagine that in a hat.

a being transcending everything changing in the moment now.
everything else falls away.
an amoral being discovering it has all powers and going crazy with them till its heart’s content.
alone.
no matter what – alone.

brie and triscuits and ginger ale.
back home.
imagining sitting before the computer gazing out the window at a sunny afternoon having taken a toke.
the fat black cat sleeps curled in the laundry basket on clean clothes.
he lights a cigarette.
dog walking a man passes by.
bringing it all back home.
what is it he is experiencing about everything within and without?
within is discounted by rationalogic science.
there is no objective way to it.
it’s entirely subjective.
and rationalogic seeks to explain everything without that can be detected with our senses and follows rules.
as the wise guys claim everything without is illusion masking reality within which is something different that they also claim they cannot describe.
he chooses neither/both.
he sits himself on a fence in the middle of everything as close as he imagines he might get.
what a lovely night for a boogie.
guy on a chromed up harley drives by.
woman walks the other way to get the bus.
he’s wasting time.
he’s always wasting time even when he’s doing something is time wasted.
slack, jack.
get right with “bob”.

but he’s just a pink boy cuz “bob” hasn’t seen his green.
oh well.
better luck next time.
but we have guru jeff to guide us through everything we might wish to understand – namely, everything.
he has yet to fail us, more or less.
moon june spoon.
guru jeff has no $$$.

meanwhile back on earth during the post-historical times after the year zero the elite elect live in mighty zion with satellite enclaves around the world while the rest of us who survive live off what’s left of the earth as it heals itself.
as he imagines this as he has imagined it for quite a while he watches and waits.
he sees no difference between god and its eternal adversary.
he chooses neither/both.
he chooses neither/both of everything.
he wants it all to be true.
why not?

will we come to realize that all is true at some point?
or will we continuously argue and fight about it forever?
who knows?
who cares?
we sorta care.
we care enough to speculate about it for no particular reason other than it is what comes to mind in the moment.

he has a dream.
everything singing along with what it knows.
then it snows.
he awakens to the vivid mundane reality of this world in full sensory display of the simulation machine creating an ever-changing world for us to play whatever we wish and will for ourselves to become.
he wished and willed himself to become a bum and a bum he is which has brought him some amount of contentment in a busy world that doesn’t know how or when to stop but as long as there is $$$ to be made it keeps going until it no longer can having used everything up.
but this isn’t what he intended to write about but perhaps to write about an avocado in the sunlight coming in through a window as it rapidly ripens and goes bad until someone comes and tosses it into the garbage to be taken out for a truck to pick it up to take to a landfill.

he is tired of god.
god is probably tired of him by now though god would supposedly according to theory never get tired but is ever regenerating and radiating transmitting all love for all.
our receivers are broken or malfunctioning is why we don’t get a signal.
we must learn to discipline ourselves to improve the reception.
but to receive it is only part.
we must be able to process the information we are receiving into something that is meaningful which to each of us will be different.
what is more meaningful than love?
what love is more meaningful than the love from god?

next he wants to write about aardvarks but he knows nothing about them or even is unsure exactly what one is without looking it up.
so next he would like to write about the void inside his head where can be heard laughing screaming of a mad god alone which he has become used to ignoring by now but its haunting reverberations remain.
so he would rather write about row boats floating gently downstream in a life that is a dream while people suffer in agony crying to be heard in a world gone deaf.
so he writes about tv which he’s seen enough of for now being suckered into it when he was an unsuspecting child.
then he writes about those who hate their lives or maybe about pepper or not or about outer space which may not actually exist but is a projection on a holodeck.
next he wants to write about parking tickets cuz maybe he got one by now parking in a loading zone while sitting here at the counter in the diner scribbling whatever comes to mind to write that doesn’t mean shit to a tree which reminds him about writing about nothing which many theorize cannot exist but if everything is everything then nothing must exist but just we cannot comprehend its nature which it has none cuz we think in strict rationalogic terms which knows nothing about what it cannot measure and calculate with its reasoning so he moves on to writing about mushroom cheeseburgers cuz he just ordered one no lettuce no tomato with a glass of lemonade.
and the guy next to him asks why jesus is hanging over the jukebox and he tells the guy it’s a fluke of the universe and receives a puzzled expression in return.
next he wants to write about frustration which he feels a lot.
the frustration of being a human and a low paid one at that.
feeling frustration about feeling frustration.
nothing in this world works the way he imagines it should but he perhaps needs to learn and practice patience.
he is frustrated by his idiot stupidity always fucking shit up for him.
then he writes about going to piss in the bathroom toilet then stepping outside for a smoke.
and writing about voting which people talk about being a scam and all the parties involved following the same agenda set up by the pig overlords to keep the masses confused and at each other’s throats instead of organizing against the established order of the few and so on.
and he wonders what he should write about next.
there’s so much of everything to choose from like umbrellas or zebra or sugar, rainbows, jumping jacks, misogyny, spoons, buttons, ghosts, ants, encyclopedias, drawers, red dwarfs, bosons, plankton, disco, sailors, popularity, sarcasm, straws, toothpicks, LSD, shoes, swans, weather reports, scary iguanas, linoleum, cheesecake, pussy, krypton, backpacks, mountain tops, jellyfish, dog shit, pimples, tulips, whistling dixie, algorithms and so on like that.

mostly he knows nothing about anything.
he knows the name he is called by that he answers to when he is in the mood.
a cup of coffee while he waits for his baby to call come pick her up.
a fire truck drives by lights flashing.
he realizes it doesn’t matter what he writes about it’s all nonsense of words that are meaningless.
we are told our meaning derives from god, the sole source of everything.
god of the fathers be damned.
goddess of the mothers likewise.
gazorbnik settles all that with a wink.
one eye open, one eye closed.
gazorbnik will not save our soul.
gazorbnik is our soul.
gazorbnik is everything possible that can be gazorbniked.

stop, look, listen.
get ready, set, go.
peace.
self-love within all our actions.
and what’s wrong with that?
if we are god and if god loves us then we should love ourselves as god loves us – unconditionally on both sides of the same coin.
this sacrifice of self is bullshit supreme.
yes, we are low born pitiful degenerate creatures destined to die and decay away nevermore to be seen this way again but only becuz we are created by a god that does not seem to be able to make up its mind which whether to love us or destroy us from moment to moment.
we are a dream it forgets instantly upon dreaming the eternal as the temporal falls away.
we are inconsequential glitches in the otherwise perfect program of god.
we are the pea beneath a stack of soft downy mattresses disturbing its sleep.
we are those errant children left to the streets to fend for ourselves who refuse to play the repentant.

 

CENSORED :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

then he gets the call from his baby who he picks up and brings home where he imagines sitting before the computer wondering if anyone is watching him.
they collect so much information he hopes they choke on it.
bomb the white house.
die 1000 deaths.

then he writes about agape and is unsure he is ready for anything like that with his high anxiety disorder.
he knows of no one who is ready.
we’re all pretty fucked up.
thanks to the pigs who ruined the earth and replaced it with this fucked up world to make $$$.
gbv45r.
he sleeps.

he awakens in the absence of mind sitting in the café next to a window on an already hot morning as ignorant as shit with iced mocha scribbling his ranting nonsense.
the pigs are in total control.
big surprise.
the wise guys are in cahoots with the master plan of keeping us down where they feel we belong such that they might reap the benefits being so chosen to be god’s representatives on earth among us.
nothing much interests him in them at all except how they dominate everything so it is impossible to avoid them.
some woman screeching singing on the stereo annoying.
the pigs sit around in peace preparing for war.
he sucks a mentholated cough drop that helps him breathing which is becoming steadily more difficult.
all the symbolic metaphorical doo-dah of it he doesn’t understand or else understands all too well.
he chooses neither/both.
he chooses not to choose of his own supposed free will getting funky with it.
getting down with it opening channels of gazorbnik transmission.
the name of the demon inside his head tricking him into believing what is not and will never be.
blessed be to the adversary who aids us in our struggle.
children off to the crusades to kill and die never to come home again.
ape logic.
just what the doctor ordered to cure all our ills.

the pig god, god of our fathers and their greed for it all.
the fuckers.
leaving the rest of us with nothing in their hierarchical social structure that deliberately keeps wealth and power in the hands of the few as is their self-declared natural right as they explain it.
the scheme they claim originates from god and accounts for their success in this world at the expense of others.
this world of liars and cheats such that the wise learn to trust no one.
they’ll tell us anything to promote themselves as having the in on the plan.
improvise.
adapt.
endure.

sketches of his erratic thinking all over the place free as a breeze blowing through his mind cracked wide open he forms some ideas about everything which become lost in the inner turmoil of his madness turning twisting every which way along with his itchy burning asshole distracting him always as he reads some more of the writings of the wise guys with the story being the same with them glorifying themselves while pissing on the rest of us beneath them in the social ranking they accept and endorse without question.
fuck that.

everybody wants to be in with the in crowd doing what the in crowd does going where the in crowd goes.
it’s pitiful and sad.
but they make $$$ so what do they care?

and he comes home sitting before the computer…???
a toke.
a cigarette.
typing out a not poem for prosperity.
a ghost in the machine accidently discovered someday in some old memory banks.
who will believe him?
who will doubt him?
belief and doubt.
he chooses neither/both.
he closes his eyes a moment feeling himself within himself.
no name or number.
he’s gotten used to confronting monsters.
he’s imagined them being real all his life.
many were real.
how was he to know the difference alone in his room?
the god of our fathers is kinda like a big scary monster.
fear the lord.
he tries not to be afraid.

he does not believe in god but in gods.
gods who seem not very compatible with one another.
gods all included in with our theory of everything.
gods that may exist only in our imagination yet through our actions believing we are doing what they instruct are forces in the world.
they cannot be seen themselves but we can measure their influence on real objects.
this may be the true nature of the world.
what is it to us?
if the gods have will of their own it seems they are in agreement with the way the pigs rule the world.
it is only to be decided which god is the greatest of them all.
many of them make this boast.
but it will be decided on the battlefields of this world.
in reality.

he writes for no other reason but to write.
he writes as he thinks as he writes.
everybody’s in on the scam as much as he can tell.
he might be in on it too.
if you make $$$ you’re in on it in some fashion or another.
$$$ is the law, $$$ under will.
tokens of exchange.
binary bits of data ($$$) traded by amoebas.
between particles even.
between galaxies.
$$$ is universal on all dimensions in every direction.

when we have peace, love and understanding.
when the sea is calmed.
when we quit feeding into the storm raging upon it.
the sea is humanity.

this mystical metaphysical trickledown theory bites.
it needs to occur from the bottom up.
transcending.
rising above.
ignoring all authority telling us we have it all wrong.
fuck them.
fuck their condoning of the established order they are an integral part of.
we grow our own.
we harvest it for ourselves.
if we can do then let others do it – which many are.
don’t buy into anyone else’s hype.
don’t use anybody else’s magick.
leave them behind.

strange device?!

having done everything wrong his whole life he imagines sitting out on the patio of the café scribbling out a not poem in a notebook as if like it used to be when he was a mental health refugee dreaming acid dreams of some revolutionary reality he imagined was happening being unclear about the actuality of the distant situation to him in space.
he realizes such a waste of time ($$$) it all was and continues to be.
but what else is to be done with him?
he doesn’t know which direction of all every directions to take to continue the haphazardly journey nowhere (now here) like some tripped out monkeyshines far away across strange shores ranked hierarchy of who gets what first and how much coughing up a mouthful of phlegm onstage at the burning theater witnessing our discomfort itching asshole from a back corner bright reflections coming true.
with thoughts about his supposedly immortal soul in the balance he has perpetual misgivings about his vow of solitude against the tide of the arrogant social groupthink behavior of the others in their pursuit of greed over happiness as he thinks about a way around it all within himself spinning in circles around the drop dead red roses in his heart wishing he could be a better person but he’s not cuz he’s lazy and doesn’t care that much about it enough though he is quick to judge others as he is judged.

drowning in drama of the others with their enjoyment in it superficially living lives digging at one another in a play in the burning theater as the flames grow higher we dance along edges of reality not paying attention.
we are symbiotic.
we are in our prime of intellectual understanding.
now or never.

he sits with a cup of house coffee bitter still scribbling thinking whatnot about nothing much coming to mind as the morning sun is warm on his back.
it’s gonna get hot.
he gets a cramp in his hand writing.

no excuses for love and what might seem important to us otherwise.
to feel love for its own sake without object of desire.
the ongoing project to hijack the planet from the bad guys ruining the earth to build their imprisoned world where freedom is forgotten.
we possess the magick means.
we possess understanding of what must be done and how and why.
to be the devil’s advocate.
to hope without expectation toward escape velocity we allow our fates to act for us as we surrender to the void of ourselves.
hail fucking victory, suckers.

some goop in his left eye he wonders about everything being just a playground of lost souls forgotten by those who attain the promised state of eternal bliss consciousness for themselves closing their eye to all unpleasantness of the mundane world of their birth while the parade of children causes traffic jams with all roads arriving and few departing as he becomes frustrated angry cursing all of it like a fig tree bearing no fruit left to wither and die becuz the lord is displeased with its unproductive nature banished from the garden of earthly delights we wish to someday enjoy for ourselves.
he scolds himself for allowing his frustration to take the helm on this voyage of this ship of fools.

he tries to give everything serious thought as to what he is discovering about what is known about its nature by the wise guys in high positions of authority looking down upon the masses judging them insufficient to the task at hand.
he is not ready nor will he probably ever be but left out and behind as the others march onward toward promised lands in their misunderstanding and confusion of what might all be entailed in their dreams coming true born of desire and fear with the knowledge of good and evil.
what a mixed up mess of secrets hiding truth revealed to a certain privileged elect.

the truth is i am.
the subjective objective observer gazing out the window at its vast domain of subjugated peoples it maintains control over while allowing them the freedom to die and be forgotten if they don’t like it.
to gain eternal life through 1000 deaths notwithstanding.
the blinking eye.
this promised land of our fathers who misunderstand the situation.
their mission to protect and defend at all costs until there is nothing left of life to live in free expression of unrestrained will of the individual in our seeming confusion with ourselves but is performance of freeform improvising indulgences our fathers cannot comprehend with their ideals of military order.
the solution with them becomes the problem as they are the only ones we need protection from is those of their kind pitted against the others for no reason other than it is their blood and sperm to do so.

quack like a duck, baby.
he still tries to encompass understanding everything at once in his head like spinning a zillion dishes crashing all over the place.
he thinks he gets it for a split instant then gone into forgetful haze of scattering shattered thoughts.
he begins again.

once upon a time they all lived happily ever after.
until…

a huge yet infinitesimal invisible golden dragon shits a singularity into the void for some reason or not that explodes the unmeasurable instant it comes into existence becoming a spatial/temporal universe of possibly infinite dimensions in all directions at once that may or may not contain everything that is.
super-ultra-hot chaos cooling forming by happenstance ordered patterns of energies radiating from every possible potential location of the plenum of spacetime thing creating images out of light and shadow projected on a cave wall where we are imprisoned against our will by our fathers and their rationalogic magick to teach us a lesson we will not soon forget.
created with both individual and collective will to survive against the odds against us.
and our fathers take control for themselves and the seed of their loins as commanded by god the father in the sky.
the rest is history.
hail victory.

trusting the one within perceived without is not the one he reads about.
he makes up gazorbnik as its only name though it has no name, but we gotta call it something.

our rightful frightful concerns about everything as it is and seems to be possibly heading toward being led by the pigs with their primal greedy self-interest in mind in their heads stuck up through their assholes to savor the sweet smell of success making oodles of $$$ from the forced labor of others they consider beneath themselves to be naturally exploited for everything the others might be worth to the operation of the great machine designed and built by the pigs to count their money.
is there something wrong with this picture?
1) yes.
2) no.
3) maybe.
4) moo.
5) it.
6) all and/or none of the above.

a crisis of faith and doubt.
what of which should we choose?
a banana?
we feel our frustration with these losers rising.
they master a world for generations father to son is how they ideally envision heaven on earth for themselves and whosoever might cater to their needs and whims.
we individuals of the unchosen non-elect of their exclusive society to find our own ways and means to find paradise in the art of forbidden magick we discover hidden from plain sight but once perceived is seen everywhere.
we refuse.
we resist.
we are them.
we endure.

to fit into their scheme as best we can maintaining as much of our integrity as possible as we are able while they devise ways of eradicating us as being unproductive to their task.
fortunately in our favor there is guilt involved in their sanctified reasoning that spares us from our fate for the time being until the shit hits the fan and it’s everyone for themselves freefall free-for-all.
when we hijack the planet from the bad guys to return it to the ways of the earth to heal itself from the destruction they waged upon it for all their generations possessed by the love of $$$ and all the evil derived thereof it is the root of they delight in with all their enthusiasm.

of chaos and order we choose neither/both.
of all polarized duality we choose neither/both.
it’s all or nothing for us.
we don’t choose sides but our own for our own design and purpose unknown to anyone except a few and far between who might understand the methods of our madness that are unfathomable to most who cannot or will not imagine it enough to finger it out for themselves on their own in their own terms to their own understanding.

into remembering inventing ourselves in ages past deep underground we perform our magick with its subversive unconscious power steadily forever undermining the greedy pigs with their ideals of total world domination and control structured master plan we manipulate to our will for our own advantage and amusement.
it’s all some sort of cosmic dream in our heads guiding us with our devices devised to confound and confuse an awakening of consciousness within the others with them being unaware going about their lives.
we surf the light fantastic on sparkling waves of blinking on/off particles.
gazorbnik is the name of god.
a name void of any meaning subject to whatever meaning placed upon it by those who need to do so.
pliable clay in our hands working it into unending shapes as we may desire and/or need in the moment.
meanwhile he giggles a bit from the wanton absurdity of it all as it appears to him coming and going as it will of its certain changing nature.

he coughs and hacks feeling a bit dizzy.
he continues scribbling.
a mixed up situation as we manipulate the manipulators who desire to control the world not knowing who we are or what we are doing which they think and perceive is utter nonsense they laugh off as being meaningless which ultimately it is.
why not?

anyway, as a spaceship hovers nearby he chews some nicotine gum as he thinks more about everything realizing he may understand more than he knows as he imagines whatever he feels like.
empty-headed dogma dada doo-doo proclaimed as ancient wisdom.
this is a control situation.
this is a control situation.
this is a control situation.
mind your manners.
hold your positions.
disguise your intentions.
piss in your pants.
forward march.
hooray for civilization.
onward.

if it could be different it would be.
it’s not.

duck and cover, baby.
it’s coming down to the ground all around.
the septillionth time of life on earth to this world of undying greed invented by monkey see monkey do consciousness run amok with itself we sigh and turn away from it to continue on through a wilderness mindscape where truth is abandoned for our sanity’s sake flying freak flag imaginary conceptual design.
the pompous patriarchal pigs in proud parades perplexed by permutations of prospective perspectives probing pulsating prohibited probability pondering.

one more time around the bend.
spin them wheels.
over the hills and far away.
climatic skilled labor buzz saw screaming laughter.
emptiness.
om.

medication time.
how many thoughts can he think at a time passing by like the banks of a river as we are floating downstream?
wave to all the happy people.
life is but a dream.
it’s not as confusing as it may seem.
think your way through it a lifetime or more.
everything in spiraling cycles it’s absurd to think we are the only things in the universe that exist as a straight line from a beginning to an end and that’s it.
that’d be a trick.
it’s not logical.

but it’s how we measure things believing they are finite within boxes which they can be but are not as everything is infinite (every thing is finite).
it’s all true/false.
the finite and infinite are two different realities from one another.
only the finite makes us $$$.
that’s important to know in the cosmic comic scheme of everything.
first it is then it is not then it is.
nothing is real.
how do you feel?

butterfly #27

he always hesitates.
he is always lost.
but being lost to the others is being found by oneself.
know thyself.
we each all originate with i am.
the heart of it.
the living heart of it.
to be.
and then to be experiencing.
everything.
the ever-flowing spring of godhead thing-a-ma-bob.
according to many theories about everything which we include in with our theory of everything.
our nonexclusive theory.
sort of.

death to the heretics of our sacred truth.
gazorbnik.
contrary to everything.
from beginningless beginning to endless end.
as the finite is within the infinite as the infinite is within the finite around around serpent swallowing its tail logic thing.
1 > infinity.
2+2=moo.
a family walks down the street maybe to catch the bus.
the fat black cat plays with a paper wad.
itchy stiff banana.
dirty pants.
all-seeing eyeball peering outta the closet at shadow ghosts on the cave wall as seen on tv.
nuke the fuck outta it.
mint chocolate chip ice cream sandwich.
a toke.
a cigarette.
groupthink corporate control.
all for one and all for one.
hail victory.
hail gazorbnik.
hooray.

bah humbug.
but for all who act there are those who dream.
this seems to be the social equation.
we are x.
where we might fit in has yet to be determined.
it may be determined to be 0.
we may be reborn as ignorant sloths.
slow thoughts in our heads.
that might not be so bad.
it  works in everybody’s favor.
until we become extinct from their greed.
busy apes and all their $$$.
when they are left with all they can eat is each other.
but the human is to be left out of their calculations.
collective individual units of known value.
points on a graph.
let x=x.

a slice of cold pizza.
a ginger ale.
the theory of an absurd world – without meaning.
the angst and nausea.
the only cure is love.
the only cure to anything is love.
love felt in the heart rising above the fray of inner turmoil and torment in the gut.
climbing the ladder to success.
it’s always the way.
to be reunited with godhead – the lotus crown upon our heads.
the subtle body felt within.
the flaming sword held high.
a charging white horse through the rolling thundering clouds.

how many more times must this be?
when will there be an end?
when does this cease to be a competition for prizes of winners and losers?
those above and those below as we have convinced ourselves is the natural order of everything.
it’s all in our heads.
there is no subject or object.
there is love.
there is one.
one for all.

to be silent with secrets.
to reveal all patiently.
to slowly open the cocoon and dry our wings to fly away.
to live or die another day or night.

haphazard life.
without a pole star we wander along on pathless paths twisting turning on and on.
such is our fate in this life and probably any other.
we don’t see ourselves ever being much any different in any other life about not getting all excited about anything than we are now.
it’s just not our nature down to our very soul.
the sublimity of everything calls to us.
that is our thrill.
to have our minds blown full wide open calmly by all we are experiencing here now as we imagine sitting contentedly gazing out the metaphorical window into a changing world of light and shadow of energies flowing coming and going.
the only constant is the brutality of the others measured against us.
those who have no patience with anything they encounter.
but patience is the way.
we have found it to be so much to our chagrin at times with our impatience making fools of us.

to have sat around doing nothing but writing out endless words about everything as if it means anything.
he never felt he needed to pay much attention to anything beyond what is needed to survive in this world of excess.
he hid from everything.
he has had vague interest in this or that or the other thing that none of it captured his heart but a certain feeling of emptiness that is everything he sees around him being real or unreal as the case may be which to him doesn’t matter either way.
he did what he was told but not quite the way he was told to do it.
he wanted none of the rewards for good behavior given out meagerly by those in power to their faithful minions.
he knew what the game was about.
it’s all about them who grabbed it all first and were able to hold on to it for the time being.

wrestling with angels coming down the ladders from heaven.
hidden in a basement down with all the storage and washing machine and dryer and stuff.
thinking himself an artist of some sort but he was lost in a dream dreaming itself in his head.
going insane which he finally achieved.
it was the best thing that could have happened to him.
he thanks his fortune.
and still the angels added with demons in cahoots.
being human in a human world of inhumanity.
all part of a divine plan?
teach us a lesson we won’t soon forget?
or happenstance occurrence of existence?
to come to understand the absurdity of it?
break on through to the other side, yeah.
another cigarette.
another taste of bitter honey.
an overcast morning drying somewhat from the night rain.
sun burning through – or maybe not.
maybe more rain.
housework to be done.
trash day.

we’re on our way going nowhere (now here).
how does that translate?
what is its intended meaning?
what meaning is interpreted?
or is it nothing?
to have risen to the pinnacle of it only to fail and fall once more into the depths.
it comes and goes like waves on a beach somewhere else we might be imagining being on an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
the fun and excitement of it.
tossing and turning on high seas twisting in bed sheets in a wild dream.
we cause our own commotions.
subtle communications of energies of love to weave within the collective hodgepodge tapestry of the reality we feel within us and perceive around us.
if not love then at least tolerance.
yup, rain.

into it and out of it.
whichever may be needed at the time of the moment now in our dreams.
our dreams taking us away with flights of fantasy never ending.
why should we come down to the level of this world with all its misery?
and this is madness not enlightenment.
let us not make that mistake.
our hearts have wings being reborn to fly.
we have been wounded in our pursuit of happiness.
we are wary and trust no one.
we have given the others more than enough chances.
now we watch and wait.

as we endure their reign of rationalogic reasoning with them uncaring of consequences of their conquests.
a new age is promised by many who hold to certain theories of everything.
everything creating sustaining destroying in the process of transforming itself in each possible infinitesimal 0 dimension location of spacetime and beyond of the singularity plenum of nothingness as potential everythingness.
according to our theory of everything thus far as we understand it.
we need to start with realizing everything we know is wrong in order to begin.
beginning always.
each beginning is an end to the beginning coming before it.
if we so choose to divide the world into finite increments as is our prerogative at any given moment of time.
time “moving” fast or slow as we perceive it to be in our subjective relative perspective no matter how objective we try to be we remain who and what we are coloring our judgments.
another toke.
another cigarette.
how fast are we going?
the earth turning at a certain rate revolving around the sun at a certain rate the solar system around the galaxy at a certain rate the universe expanding at a certain rate and on and on like that.
thinking about whatever comes to mind.

what should we be thinking about?
the wise guys tell us to stop.
the agents provocateurs tell us to start.
everybody telling us what and how to think.
we come back to thinking about everything.
everything seems so matter of fact but when we think about what it might actually be if anything our thoughts astonish us.
this ontological mish mash of whatnot.
part fact and/or fiction.
who can know for sure?
we all know those who claim to know its truth but we know it’s just one more theory out of countless theories many of which cancel each other out so we are left with what is left to try to maybe fit that together somehow or another.
we are programmed to make sense of the universe that is otherwise wild chaos.
it’s hardwired into our brains.
seek and learn and understand.
when is our understanding complete?
when is infinity complete?

to end and to begin again to end again on and on through possible lifetimes of experiences shaped by karma vs dharma – individual will vs collective will.
who is right and who is wrong?
is there a cooperative compromise?
it would stand to reason that there should be given there being a continuum between the polarized pairs in complementary opposition creating the maya play of light and shadow appearing as reality.
the middle path as our gyroscope in our hearts and minds we walk wandering between the lines drawn by their territorial pissings.
by the authority we invest in ourselves we doubt all truths while trying to understand how and why they becomes truths to those who believe them to be so.
we believe all truths but do not believe any truth.
the answer is a riddle.
a riddle of truth hidden in the middle.

in the middle of doubt we continue imagining him sitting before the computer hunched over the keyboard typing out a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet about our theory of everything and such.
is there everything?
is it everything that is?
is it everything that could be?
is it what we reason?
is it what we imagine?
has it got our goat?

riddles of further questions that probably could continue forever.
if no one asks them do they exist?
questions everywhere everywhen in everything.
that is the full amazing glory of it.
that is the full gazorbniking of it.
sucking on a mentholated cough drop to help him breathe he takes out the trash and recycling.
he forgets to check the mail.
looking into it further and further following the questions instead of the answers.
questions are truth.
truth?

we are not alone

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he awakens, tired.
cigarette.
back to sleep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

here now.
cow.
moo.

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

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

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

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