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.

turd

as a spaceship hovers nearby he is busy planning an escape hoping to be able to open the necessary appointed portals in synchro-timed sequences such that he’s gone without anyone noticing which they usually don’t pay him much attention anyway so that’s not really a problem much and to devise pathways through twilight zone planes of reality he learned as a sprout back in indiana which isn’t that far from the truth and besides truth is for losers who have lost their own way and to remember the codes he discovered throwing backhanded i-ching with wooden nickels as guru jeff had taught us quite a while ago in the early years before his timely death at our hands on deck of cards chosen at quasi-random possibilities surrounding the quantum fields vibrating energies every tuesday after each of the half-moons waxing and waning like life itself until death do us part.

repent.
repent what?
repent being a self-centered selfish greedy ignorant brute without a care for anyone as much as they care about him?
repent disobeying the law of the fathers?
repent having too much fun being lazy as fuck?
he is guilty as charged, he supposes – and much much more.
one would imagine the almighty lord god would know better but it seems it was quite careless creating us such that only a few would be chosen while the vast majority goes to waste.
bad god.
bad bad god.
go to your room until you learn to behave yourself and play nice.
no one likes a bully – a self-righteous one at that.

we generally seem to hate in others what we perceive in them about what we most hate in ourselves.
that seems about right about god and its attitude about us.
he does not believe in a perfect god.
he does not believe in a perfect anything.
god is just a being that appears without beginning on the scene as bewildered as anyone would be until it discovers powers of creating sustaining destroying whatever realities at will it fills with images of itself each independently differently unique yet god seems to feel all must wish to be the same and obedient slaves to its will.
for some reason our acting on our own seems to drive it bananas into fits of rage and revenge.
god seriously needs to get over itself.
but the chances of that happening are probably nil.
we need to find a means of putting it outta its misery which since he was child told about there being god he never felt god was very happy with anything probably not with itself most of all.
it acts the spoiled child with too many toys it recklessly breaks or abandons cuz there will always be more where they come from with a snap of its fingers anytime it wants.
he does not believe this god knows anything about love and compassion, not that he has ever read about in the holy books or imagined on his own.
such a waste of time and energy.
but god has infinite reserves at its command and disposal so why should it care?
it obviously doesn’t.
so why should we care?
so why should he care?
we are born damned so who gives a fuck?
fuck it.
fuck it all.

but he finds his peace in moments of solitude where when he is left free of being bothered.
this is where when his thinking runs away with itself toward new understanding – or to further depths of delusion.
does it matter which, if it is not that the two are the same?
he doubts it.

we are commanded to love god.
he neither loves nor hates god.
he pities god if anything.
the poor soul laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
it seems frightened to him.
frightened that it will not be loved as it would seem it needs to be.
it is a sad thing to behold.
the great creator humbled by unrequited love.
if it actually can feel love.
he doubts that by its reported actions against those of us who are at best indifferent toward it.
it regards us as worth no more than the dirt from which we were formed.
easy come, easy go.
it carelessly sows seed all over the place on barren ground and fertile.
it prizes what the fertile ground produces and curses what the barren ground does not.
is it we who decide where we fall?
this is what he understands about it and he is not impressed.
the great almighty lord god of oz on the mountain top smoking and thundering and all sorts of other special effects to make us tremble and be afraid.
who wants any part of that if this is the only way god can relate to us?
why not each of us one on one face to face?
sit and talk it out.
light up a bowl.
light up a cigarette.
this mystery it cloaks itself in does nothing but confuse the whole fucking thing and makes us feel like stupid worthless shit not understanding what’s the deal.
what are these threats it makes?
if you love someone set them free and if they don’t come back then hunt them down and kill them seems to be its thinking.
he would expect a god to be above that sort of thing, but it would seem that it is not.
oh well.

he likes to love.
he tries to find love in his heart but it is a difficult thing.
he would like perhaps to love god but he will not love god just for the mere fact it has not destroyed him on a whim – yet.
and there is always one more test with god.
there is definitely something wrong with this picture.
it is probably himself.
that is what the wise guys would tell him.
but he doubts that as well.
he has been around this over and over again hoping the results would be different but not expecting them to be.
what is he missing?
to find the god within?
he has found that one – the one laughing and screaming alone in the void inside his head.
who might comfort it?
how many of us does it need to love it and praise its holy name for all eternity?
will there ever be enough?
what drives this madness from its mind?
he does not know.
he cannot imagine.

so he goes his merrie way through birth life death thing taking in what he can from what he experiences and learns from the experiences of others.
he tries to learn about everything and come to an understanding about it.
how long will this take?
how many lifetimes – if he has more than this?
it doesn’t matter.
god or not god.
duality once more.
we know all about that and how it works to create and shape reality.
a reality of a world he can destroy with a bullet.
pull the trigger and it all goes away.
he remains alone in a void without his head.
oh boy.

he lights up the bowl.
he lights up another cigarette.
he thinks if there is anyone out here but him.
maybe yes.
maybe no.
maybe maybe, baby.
he thinks if he were god and all alone and lonely being all that which exists since no beginning he can remember and came up with the brilliant idea to create something other than himself and having nothing else to make use of he creates it out of himself dividing himself into countless pieces of every shape and size and description, etc. from teeny tiny particles to great huge galaxies all spinning in crazy circles around him being amazed at first but gradually becoming bored with no other to be amazed with beside him and then deciding to supernaturally manifest creatures to be his companions witnessing this infinite display of wonder he scoops up earth and breathes his breath into it and there soon are countless of the fuckers who are himself in disguises and thinking all sortsa shit about everything they perceive around them and doing all sortsa shit and talking all sortsa shit and he thinks maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all so he calls them all back to himself to be one again and they take their sweet ass time about it being dazzled by the world as he imagines it being the best and worst of all possible worlds yet he has doubts perhaps that being all one again isn’t what he wants either so he keeps it both ways awhile until he decides which or what it might be as randomly unpredictable as he could make it wanting to be surprised which he has been and continues to be so in all the forms he has taken in this pursuit of self-interested happiness he enjoys imagining himself sitting before a computer in a mortal human form hunched over the keyboard typing out a not poem about our theory of everything thus far as it he comes to understand it realizing he is still alone but lonely no more.

he chews some bazooka.
he blows a bubble careful not to get it stuck in his beard.
what an oh no that would be.
hahaha.
imagining possibilities endlessly even with medications to slow it down so it’s not spiraling out like rows of dominos toward infinite infinitesimalities along pathless paths of improbability reaching the destination in the journey to nowhere (now here).
oh boy.
what fun.
how exciting.
and the lottery ticket comes up zip.

and how is he to tell if he is mad or not?
he doesn’t feel particularly mad.
he hears voices but he doesn’t listen to them.
it’s all a cacophony anyway.
a vocal noise montage.
it’s the reactions of the others to him that tell him he is mad.
they hardly need say nothing directly about it, except in jest.
he knows.
they know he knows.
they are always watching for clues in his behavior.
they remind him that he is error.
they have reminded him with ECTs in the past.
he understood that he was the odd one out as soon as he decoded the language they were speaking.
after a while he began digging it as he learned how to use it to his benefit and he wouldn’t change it for nothing.
a disappearing dot of light like on an old tv set when you shut it off.
there goes the world as we know it.
goodbye.
back to oblivion, baby.
which is what?
huh?

chewing some nicotine gum.
it ain’t no cigarette.
it ain’t no disco.
he’s become distracted along the way here now.
he thinks he remembers.
a god willing itself into existence.
a god that is ever was.
a finite/infinite god.
a finite/infinite hot dog.
it.
before any duality.
and he sleeps.

at the diner over medium eggs sourdough toast orange juice open notebook scribbling a not poem about our theory of everything and such along whatever comes to mind in the moment which isn’t much of anything so far that formulates itself into words he might transcribe on a blank page waiting for ink to be marked on it for future reference by whoever whenever wherever might come to understand whatever about anything up for grabs by anyone and all that jazz waiting for instructions from central command.
all the lovesick songs on the jukebox moaning heartaches.
he steps outside for a smoke watching people coming and going along like waves on a beach he imagines himself standing at the edge of the surf washing in and washing out sinking feet into the sand as he ponders whatever the fuck.
he steps back inside sitting at the counter continuing scribbling his delusional mind working to bring him ideas about the impractical absurd unreal things that seem to follow and find him anywhere he goes haunting him with ghostly montage of images difficult to describe as it is the same as it ever was but with a twist and turning or two or three on and on.
he wonders still about the god problem as if that needs to be our real concern but with these people willing to kill and die for their version of god against others with different ideas.
who is who?
whose truth is truth?
gods of our imagination people make into their reality they then often attempt to impose on others at gunpoint with some amount of success given how people value their lives over their own ideas most of the time but for a few martyrs  for the cause and effect which hasn’t necessarily been proven true or false either way according to many who think too much and are met with the absurd everywhere they might turn this way that way the other way and back over and over again until it becomes entangled into gordian knots that the sword is the solution for some who have no time for nonsense.
there seems to be some confusion about our theory of everything in confusion with us and itself representing the confusion of the reality of the situation which may or may not be in the supposed ordered world but there are rooms for everything in this dualistic continuum world from the best to the worst of all possibility including what is one person’s best is another’s worst possessing us to behave accordingly to our karmic sense of fate or whatever.
we skate across the thin ice of our consciousness trembling laughing nervously at the absurdity of it becoming itself crashing tumbling down the long winding stairs to the foyer floor in black and white chessboard tiles with surreal flavor as he continues scribbling.
then he goes home.

his heart is here imagining sitting before the computer gazing out the window he sees not much happening humanwise but otherwise everything is happening.
he takes a nap.

driving it down and out on easy street where the bums all meet who is left anymore among them with the new upscale renovations being put in place.
save the earth.
so he continues scribbling except now at the café on the other side of town.
turn your frown upside down.
and he is thinking about everything he can which probably isn’t much compared with most who are so inclined to think about everything at all mostly the wise guys who know it all what there is to know but it’s all about what we feel about everything that’s the question or not and he feels some amount of happiness about it but also sorrow about those beaten down and abused so casually by others or left sick and starving with great neglect in the shadows of the empire we have built with no one asking us about it to begin with and as god allows for its greater glory as savior as the caldron is stirred some more by god’s demon underlings doing it the favor to show us that we are nothing but dog shit in the spotlight onstage at the burning theory where all are put to the test with sacrifices to be made to the high priests living the life on their holy seats placed before god almighty in the temple.
clowns to the left.
jokers to the right.
what the fuck are we doing here?
we sit back and enjoy the show must go on despite the tragedy involved as long as the old songs play on the radio with people singing along remembering youth they enjoyed but now the bad times are hanging around causing trouble for everyone he is not impressed by any of it lost in thinking about details of meaning surrounding the issue at hand which we forget what that is by now as history is rewritten to celebrate our newly acquired freedom to be whatever the fuck we please with no accounting for taste or responsibility for actions made in the moment of our deliverance unto evil ways among us like ringing a bell.
he’s all mixed up.
it ain’t like this at all but old used up dogma doo-doo thing in his head about it but that others believe and kill and die for god and $$$ laughing all the way.
it’s easy.
it’s a snap.
it’s a buncha crap.
to obey the state.
to obey god.
to obey ourselves.
to go along business as usual minding our own selves being outta the way of the big wheels churning turning as much as possible we might get away with as we will.
born into a house of lies as a child innocently growing up assuming he could believe what he was being told while he played with his toys until he grew older to begin to realize this may have been a big mistake but not exactly how or why and not much caring just wanting to have some fun but everyone have their agendas to promote and sell.
it’s all about the $$$.
he knew little about this not much paying attention nor anyone much to him he was more or less free but always broke but as he just wanted a simple life he never minded that as it gave him all the time to think about shit which he knew little about which is a dangerous thing.
he left it up to others to fuss and decide what’s what which he would go along with or not as he felt like for whatever reason or none at all oblivious of what was going on around him he dreams his dreams he just wanted peace and never understanding the complications of reasons why not people had about it feeling they aren’t getting their piece of the pie and tired of eating cake he withdraws from it all into retreating to the country where there ain’t nothing happening trying to shake it out and shape it up but mostly just fantasizing time away in waking walking  sleep ignoring everything ding dong in permutations of dead brain consciousness pretending to be an artist/poet composing trash constructions incomplete and ill-advised except for once in a while spells of inspiration to produce actual random expressions of misunderstood meaning.
he never had a chance.
he didn’t know what he was doing.
he didn’t wanna know what he was doing.
he mostly wanted to be left alone but people had other ideas about that.
he goes home again.

being here now.
a toke.
a smoke.
god is a joke.
why not?

spin, baby, spin.
it’s medication time.
make sure he stays on the path.
lsd.
he feels he is on some sorta brink either to fall or fly.
he wonders why but every why is answered, why not?
creeping along typing out a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet.
nope.
he’s quit fooling himself about that but he always knew.
he just doesn’t ever quite cut it.
he’s never been quite focused enough.
other people are focused straight on things with all they got.
those people are often annoying cuz that’s all they talk about and many get rather evangelical about it.
kill and die.
he’s avoided them as much as is possible.
but he’s kinda the same but he focuses on everything that comes his way this or that or the other thing moment by moment his concentration always being distracted by something else to concentrate on and so on.
he finds god floating in the toilet.
he mumbles a prayer and flushes it.

who will start the parade?

no one knows the way we’ve been to come here while everyone is shrinking down in size.
listening to brandenburg concertos kinda sideways of mind.
not much caring anymore.
the dream is over.
mistaken identity.
how can we forget ourselves so easily?
and the flames went higher.
everything tasting so sweet.
take all the chances we might need to.
do not feed the ducks.
the last to remember what it was like before everything turned for the worse.
it was never that much better.
there was no golden age we shared.
but the future looked bright instead of dimly fading back to the shadows again.
but there was no past and there will be no future except as passing illusions in our brain reflex thing in the moment.
but nothing stands still.
it takes time to shake that groove thing.
there is some confusion here not too many would notice while busy with their excitement.
the deal comes around every time for each.
reach out and grab it if we can.
too bad if not.
it occurs to us now.
asleep in the dark before a new dawn of human kind.
alien midwives.
birth is a bitch, baby.
so much to go wrong.
but so much has gone wrong already.
is there anyone who doesn’t believe it?
though we never agree about what it might be that has gone wrong.
aion.
who would have thought art would ultimately destroy the world?
if you call that art.
art of 1000 deceptions.
pop pop pow every 15 minutes.
bleeding visitors to the abandoned museum.
gray overcoats ashen faces shadows.
a maze of mirrors cracked and broken gleaming in the dawn sun finally.
fortune comes to some while others are wanting.
duh.
obvious observations yet there are those who do not realize.
the gods explain everything they want to think about, not too much.
the broken in spirit destitute of heart staggering unbelievingly through the world.
while the joyful ones dance and sing.
fall down.
laugh.
the show must go on.
the noise of it builds as the general population anxiety index levels rise.
upside down and backwards.
kick it around umpteen times.
chocolate muffin.
ginger ale.
cigarette.
dead whore his face smashed in.
refusal.
resistance.
the crowd of thoughtcrime alibis.
interwoven connections through the spheres.
tenuous threads web thing.
changing evolving.
mind shift/ship.
gazorbnik.
in the hereafter we will be surprised by everything and nothing.
in the hereafter it will be all be unicorns, daises and rainbows if we really want it or whatever else turns us on.
in the hereafter we will still pursue our happiness but realize it’s the journey that is the destination.
heaven on earth or living hell.
what will be so different?
as he lights a cigarette having awakened to another day with dawn sunlight coming in through the window facing the mountain to the east.
candyland possibilities.
he needs to clean the cat box, go to the store for supplies and take out the trash.
in the hereafter there will be nothing familiar, all is strange.
he should be taking photographs of spring flowers.
our extinction is nigh.
a buncha freaks everyone could do without.
let’s get our shit together.
no more doubt.
no more laziness.
just those who answer the call to duty.
his life has been writing on water.
as it should be.
no cast bronze statues of 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.
will people, if they are actually people, still think about everything in the hereafter?
or will everything be forgotten?
everything causes troubling thoughtcrimes.
when we discover everything we know is wrong.
we don’t care.
let them eat cake.
we have our time and place now here (nowhere).
to hell with everything else.
there is no future but there is a future.
when both are true at the same time we know we are on the right wrong path.
never mind what the others say, they’ll talk about us anyway.
as technology changes us.
becoming.
we all are mutants, variations on a theme improvised on the spot.
x marks the spot.
let x=x.
die hard advocates of truth and steadfast integrity.
the status quo.
the established order.
boy, things sure are exciting.
and scary.
what is to become?
the last gasp of a dying generation.
old and in the way.
the new youth marching to their long awaiting graves singing popular songs.
out of the mouths of gods.
speaking the truth once and for all to understand.
harmony among the discordant demographics of the discontent.
everyone finds their place in the scheme of things.
but we get to sit around doing nothing witnessing the antics of the others around us in this human dharma drama yin yang thing going around around onward upward never repeating quite the same toward higher more refined realms of tranquility and good taste perfected by incarnations of struggling endurance.
throughout the impending weather we continue rain or shine.
red cinnamon gummy bear.
what is time but relative to the situation we might happen to be in?
what is a day?
what is a year?
this is nothing within a larger picture of the whole über-infinity plenum void of everything.
but that has nothing to do with us beyond something to enjoy imagining for the moment as it comes to mind.
ours is the real world of cold hard facts.
this is this.
that is that.
the other thing is the other thing.
etc.
rationalogic saves the day and night of our loneliness in anti-philosophic despair seeking new found joys.
armed encampments on the shores of the nearby distant sea.
troubled waters of the deep.
shipwrecked ships.
preparing for and making war with one another.
our favorite pastime.
we lay ourselves down to sleep 1000 years.
the new zion.
who will start the parade?

mistaken dispatch #13

intricate comedy of errors.
he wakes up.
coffee.
toke.
cigarette.
everything is right with the world – almost.
except for those screaming in pain at this particular moment which he doesn’t know about but it is relatively certain there are many given the nature of this world and its diabolical ways.
nothing to be done about that.
we’re stuck with it.
this world is illusion so he doesn’t worry about it though he worries about it all the time.
he is human.
humans are worrying creatures.
disciplined divine blessed state rising above the fray to the glory of godhead radiating from everything everywhere everywhen.
all kinds of greatness now.

we follow guru jeff along pathless paths as he is our guide we wonder sometimes if he is in fact lost himself.
no matter.
there’s always a way out – mostly.
good thing we were not really headed anywhere in particular but whatever comes up.
there’s always something as we proceed around the next bend.
drumbeat in our hearts we keep on keeping on.
remain calm.
whatever it is it can only kill our bodies.
we should instead concern ourselves about what consumes our souls.
i am.
i am what?
i am that i am.
that’s a big help.
a dog can say that.

our minds are such terrible things gone to waste.
but someone needs to play the fool for the game to work as they intend.
they are the masters and what they say goes.
unless we doubt.
we have doubted from the beginning.
we saw how the other children behaved with one another.
not very nicely.
cruel.
dangerous outside the view of adult supervision.
competitive little monkeys performing tricks as instructed.
it’s gotta be a perfect match, otherwise no gold star.
obedience is the 1st priority.
yet initiative within certain parameters is encouraged to determine who may be a future leader among the pack.
the alphas.
and so on down the line down to us at the bottom who couldn’t care less.
dreaming our dreams.
thinking our thoughts.
going nowhere (now here).

we dream of a world being the best and worst of all possible worlds.
we think about everything to try to fit it together into something we all might agree on of our own un-coerced free will which takes us a lifetime or more.
but it’s fun to do.
we’d rather do nothing else all day.
thinking about everything takes us away.
that is the point to anything, isn’t it?
something that takes us away from this world even ourselves becuz we do not belong here but belong elsewhere in higher more refined realms of possibility.
we do not quite understand how or why that makes sense to the others who buy into it wholeheartedly.
so we fly away.
so long, suckers.
$$$ is the way to heaven.
believe it and weep.
that’s the basic gist of what the wise guys are marketing and promoting.
aristocratic ashrams don’t come cheap.

thick as a brick in the wall.
cracks in the wall.
life spewing out.
our concrete world is crumbing in on itself.
it disappears into a wilderness of new possibility for us to imagine and fantasize about more to our liking.
we move beyond ourselves here now.
the mind shift/ship carries us to our new home as we discover everything we know is wrong.

grilled pepper jack cheese sandwich.
a semi-nice day outside the window.
bright cloudy sky.
people walking driving by.
everyday folk in the trailer park.
if we could be someone else.
if someone else could be us.
mind meld understanding.
a red jeep driven by some skinhead dude goes by.
we find ourselves wondering what he might be about.
we find ourselves wondering what everyone might be about.
what is it they are hiding?
what is it we are hiding?
perhaps from ourselves, yes?
we’ve opened up all the doors in our mind.
we found nothing but our imagination.
he lights another cigarette.
prancing dancing unicorn beneath a sky of rainbows behind the supermarket where guru jeff is bumming change and cigarettes from random passers-by who shrug him off mostly but a few who stop to offer him one or the other or both.
we do not wanna be like guru jeff.
he likes it rough on the go.
we’re too lazy for that.
we like to stay at home.
everything in our heads.
thoughtcrime.

on/off binary logic mish mash.
waves into patterns into form into shape into being into experiencing – or something like that.
into ourselves.
we are the crown of creation.
a crown that is a maze of mirrors we gaze upon losing our wandering minds to it for the moment before we come back to ourselves being… ???
the idea that we are gods.
mythos theory.
relevant to what it is symbolically relevant to.
a dull remembrance of brightening horizons.
a dawn of consciousness.
ancient rituals reenacted.
it’s a tricky business.
SEX.
observe the rite of passage.
we are one and then the other.
the markers of time in cycles that come and go seemingly relatively repeating themselves forever as signs of our eternal life stuck in a windmill.
the goddamn machine of it eating us alive.
a churning urn of burning funk.
whatever metaphors might do in a pinch.
make believe what we will from it.

logic may be the basic foundational web structure of it but it does nothing much to explain anything beyond that.
binary on/off bits of data at the core of everything we think, say and do.
everything does not act logically.
the meaning of every thing is not logical.
and so on.
naked and unafraid.
a tree is what he wants to be.
freak flag leaves flying free in waves of light and shadow.
rooted directly with the earth.
basking in the sun for sustenance.
drinking up the rain.
thinking long slow calm thoughts no busy human will ever grok.
Z.
or maybe the trees are screaming.
we will never comprehend.
it’s untranslatable experience.
but the trees will never comprehend either.
we’re even.

vicodin.
another toke.
a cigarette.
and now it’s raining.
and now it’s beginning.
and now it’s ending.
and now it’s somewhere in the middle.
everything everywhere everywhen.
let’s pretend that we’re dead.
please, step into the magick circle.
bombs away.
and as everything has come and gone from no beginning to no end up to this moment now that has passed even before we think it.
but now is always.
have no fear.
we cannot exclude anything from our theory of everything whether it agrees with anything else that is included or not.
this is quite a task to keep any of it together.
but maybe that’s our mistake right there.
maybe it never does entirely fit together all at once like we suppose it does.

our minds grapple to find coherent meaning in everything.
it’s part of our wetware schematics.
meaning that makes sense of the world we have been thrown into and meaning to communicate with one another.
we have not evolved to function within an absurd universe.
all meaning is make believe however.
it is not characteristic of the things in question.
it is characteristic of our thinking.
or some such.
cock-a-doodle-doo, cries out the professor of abstract philosophy.
what meaning does this entail?
what meaning does it not have?
an absurd universe is an absurd idea.
but it makes sense and has meaning which would seem to negate itself but not.
and everyone is spying on him for some reason or another or no reason.
they have since he can remember.
mirrors and photographs and whatnot.
eyes everywhere.
he’s the star of the show.

season’s greetings.
vibrations of waves of positive/negative energy.
what goes up will come down.
action/reaction.
yin and yang sitting on a fence.
the fence is the tao, but nobody’s supposed to know that.
you have to be a level 4 mystic.
but which direction does it go?
can we get there from here?
disbanded romeos lurking in parking lots before dawn discussing secrets for any occasion.
names withheld by request.
pointy shoes and pointy hats and pointy little noses.
sneering eyes.
they protest too much.
how are we supposed to believe?
spunk fest overload.
dynamite action.
awesome effects.
the crowds gather to be in on where there’s too many people already but it’s what’s happening now on the instant hit parade network scene flash updates.
they’re overloaded, their head’s exploded.
that’s what they’re here for.
and then the killings begin.
lick up the blood.
we will never find an answer that is not another riddle unraveling into more questions.
medication time.
and a nap.

he wakes.
a toke.
a cigarette.
his baby asleep before her tv.
lazy time.
mighty fine.
he skyrockets from himself in wonder.
he lands in heaven which to him is hell.
he journeys backward to find a way out.
is there escape from paradise?
are we doomed to eternal boredom?
a place where nothing ever happens.
he understands himself and his life.
not much more.
he comes to anxious peace.
we endure this too.
as new information becomes available he changes his mind a lot.
sometimes it’s this or that or the other thing.
and then it goes back again sometimes.

as a spaceship hovers nearby he imagines himself sitting before the computer typing out a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet about our theory of everything.
the social sciences are included.
what is the economic political gain from our historical philosophy of science and religion?
the gods of fools.
the theory of sacred truth.
the extremes of meaning of individual thought.
the average meaning of collective thought.
the mob is beyond reason.
they are manipulated through rudimentary images and slogans.
disinformation and propaganda.
trust nothing we are told, even if it’s the truth – especially if it’s the truth.
there is no truth.
not as such.
truth is a mythological concept from ancient times when it was believed truth was set in stone everlasting unchanging.
they did not understand, nor do they still.
truth if anything is a river.
stone is a river.
stone is good and evil.
stone is varying change.

meanwhile it is morning again.
coffee.
toke.
cigarette.
the continuing confessions of an idiot.
a holy rant against what’s holy.
what those wise guys tell us is holy, which of course includes them and their teaching and the $$$ they make.
they shall be known among us who is what though the masses are easily swayed this way and that way and the other way.
our mutual mystical confusion will be our guide along darkened paths exploring our ignorance to discover what might be revealed to our understanding.
it’s a question of doubt.
a mustard seed.
what needs to be denied along the paths followers take.
not our cup of tea.
how can we fabricate a theory of everything if we exclude anything?
but how can we be in 2 places at once when we’re not anywhere at all?
a peanut butter sandwich and more coffee.
the sun is bright through the window facing east toward the mountain seen clearly in the distance.
another cigarette.
everything perceived as being reality.
simple basic minimal spacetime universe.
this world a womb to burst open to allow birth.
no creation without destruction.
mass hysteria worldwide.
this is the end.

um… what?

awakening from a long long sleep.
he makes tea.
a toke.
a cigarette.
thinking about everything sideways.

monkeys.
nothing but monkeys.
living in a trailer park in an area of town commonly referred to as felony flats.
life on the other side of this life.
digging it.
if you’re not digging it then why are you doing it? – guru jeff.

choice is not always an option.
fate delivers what it will.
nature nurture karma thing having its part in the mixed up mix of ourselves.
everything is as it is according to certain sets of given parameters that create the illusion of this world as reality.
at the center of an infinite universe.

things in his head that are irrelevant to anything.
things in his head that make anything irrelevant.
it’s all love and fear and loathing.
it’s all radiating in cosmic waves throughout the universe.
what do we know?
what does he know about what we know?
what do we know about what we know?
everyone processing all sorts of information worldwide from scribbling on paper to massive computer networks.
what does it all mean?
gazorbnik, that’s what.
hahaha.
nobody gets it but us.
there’s a few more surprises yet to come.
hang on to your fright wigs, people.
full speed down a rocky road straight to heck.
not even hell will have us.
we are them.

he lights another cigarette.
thinking deep shallow thoughts.
it’s all he knows having not been paying attention when he should have been nor does he still.
lack of interest.
he’s not into shit like other people are into shit.
just into everything as much as he can grasp with his simple mind.
he figures that’s enough.
cold and rainy day.
he’s not all here now.
that’s the thing of it.
one of the things of it.
it is it.
it consciousness.
the primordial spark of being.
it comes and goes.
changing changelessness.
action through inaction.
e=mc².
and all that jazz.
and he needs to sleep again.
and there’s dishes to put into the machine.

late after a nap –
and there so many people who just don’t understand one another.
or understand one another far too well.
he understands and does not understand.
nor do many understand themselves.
he has little understanding of himself either.
the sun is out now.
bipolar weather.
spring.
what to doubt and what not to doubt.
a bullet can end the world.
put it out of its misery.
zoom in on the world and see all the needless suffering when there is pain enough already.
interesting.
zoom out into blissful oblivion.

a rotten fallen tree laying taking root as its branches unfurl themselves upward.
eternal life.
everything in fluctuation.
new life from old.
observe.
understand.
understand the anger and hatred there is among us.
anger and hatred of each other and the deeper anger and hatred of ourselves.
understand that within ourselves.
understand that within each other.
everything is change.
everything is redundant.
typing out whatever comes to mind at the moment into a not poem about our theory of everything.
the blues come to town.
time of non-thought.
another cigarette.
sleep.

awake again.
the drama continues with the problems he tries to stay out of.
he has no idea how they might be resolved except people just chill out getting so excited.
we are our own undoing.
he thinks about how he will not remember any of this.
it’ll all be gone as if it never was.
so why bother with any of it?
let it go its own way.
he doesn’t know anything else he might be able to do about it.
not with these people as they are.
not with himself as he is.
what’s the point?
no one gives a shit.

people are weird.
he’s never been able to quite figure them out what they’re about very much why they do this or that or the other thing and on and on.
seeking a place to hang their hat where when it’s cool.
becoming bored with that and seeking fun and excitement until that becomes too much.
around around they go.
the nature of the beast.
he’s never been able to figure himself out either why he does this or that or the other thing cuz it seems like the thing to do at the time.
people destructive to themselves and each other.
he can barely tolerate the vibrations of despair and suffering emanating from them constantly when he is out among them.
so he mostly stays at home with himself and his baby and the fat black cat.

he doesn’t trust people much.
they are not reliable in the condition they are in always wavering and arguing about everything there is.
he reaches for his own peace, love and understanding as he might find it however he will or won’t as it comes and goes as waves on a beach of an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
this is where he imagines himself watching the waves roll in and wash out as they will and waiting for an eternity in a moment.
all things must pass as is their nature.
nothing really exists anyway so what does it matter?
it matters not.
ever-flowing kaleidoscope of diamond light and shadow images mesmerizing us into a dream where everything is real.
how absurd.
he laughs at the thought of this being.
everything is absurd.
everything is nothing.
nothing is everything.
the answer is a riddle.
it’s in our mind.
our mind over matter.

and he should know about these things he questions.
if he paid more attention perhaps.
or he should have known instinctively from birth.
we shouldn’t be left abandoned here in ignorance about things it is important that we understand for our wellbeing and wellbeing of others.
but how else do the gods find their amusement but through our antics they gaze from afar?
all could be and should be different.
all equal to all.
none above another.
but that’s not how it is.
that’s how it will never be.
being all through it as much as his simple mind can fathom and he doesn’t get it.
he’ll never understand ever it seems to him now.
he could gain enlightened godhead this instant and still be a dumb fuck as much as always.
he holds no hope for that.

he is lost.
he is found.
he doesn’t know which.
sometimes it seems one and sometimes seems the other.
how is one to tell?
life is the same either way as not being fair.
boo-fucking-hoo.
he is not complaining as much as he just doesn’t understand.
he sees no way to it though there are those who promise answers but you have to get involved in their whole groupthink trip of whatever and of course give them $$$.
110% commitment.
devotees devoted to devotion.
he’s not been much into that sort of thing mostly.
it makes him feel silly.
he likes his homegrown shit for all it is and all it is not as useless as it may seem to others.
he has nothing for anyone.
they are on their own.
he is on his own it would seem as well.

what to make of all this.
what is it?
a dream in our minds?
what minds?
our minds in the dream.
nothing is impossible unless forbidden by certain set conditions of a particular given reality.
this and not that.
that and not this.
an infinite number of universes and beyond.
spin the wheels one more time.

nosey neighbors spying through cracked blinds keeping track of infractions against the unspoken rules by others.
no one minds their own business.
everyone has something to say about it.
the social drama of it.
such a waste of time when we could be discussing the nature of everything to see what we might come up with that rings true enough for our purposes.
who knows what could happen?
we might actually agree on things despite how much we are told otherwise by those who have a vested interest in keeping us divided and conquered.
$$$.
it all comes back to that.
$$$ is an economic tool to simplify our transactions with one another for our wants and needs in our pursuit of happiness and such.
it should flow among us equally more or less.
but there are those of us who build dams to hold it all for themselves keeping it from the rest of us.
such a waste of time and energy that only increases friction among us such that it is nearly impossible for us to get along.
a perfect cooperative communal world is probably not possible but we don’t even make an attempt to realize it even in part.
it cannot be enforced.
people will reject it outright for that reason alone no matter what possible benefits they might gain from it.
it should swell from the ground up and take over the hearts and minds of the population until it reaches critical mass and becomes itself fully realized.
like that’ll ever happen.
it is easily quashed by a guarded attentive regime of wealth and power and those invested in maintaining it that way cuz they feel they too might climb to the top and rule over others and get their own way.
children.
they do not know any better.
they cannot nor will not think beyond their own selfish greed.
they do not question that might makes right.
they do not question that things might be different.
their way is TRUTH.
oh well.
it was fun while it lasted.

we assume that in the beginning there was nothing.
we assume first of all that there was a beginning no matter how we envision how it might have been.
if there is infinity then there is no beginning nor end.
if everything is everything then there must be infinity.
everything and nothing are two sides of the same coin flipping up in the air in a state of probability.
we watch and wait.
will it ever be decided one way or another?
we doubt that.
as everything exists as it is in this probability state continuum thing of indecision.
that is how everything appears to exist while not actually existing or some such.
so, we have a continuing state of probability appearing as reality.
we cannot say it is one thing nor another as it all stands now.
but now is all there is whether now is yesterday or tomorrow or whenever.
it exists the same.
eternity is now.

and what else do we propose with our theory of everything?
everything is in cycles vibrating from every possible location and beyond never repeating the same though similar enough to be perceived by our naked eye to be the same.
the variations may be infinitesimal beyond our natural vision.
these such things appear to us as being solid.
for all intents and purposes they might as well be.
though if we think about it we realize that they are not but that realization does little to aid us as we relate to the world which is one of a kind best and worst of all possible worlds that may cause us the greatest pleasure or pain on a whim expressed as fate.
it is possible that the world is a collective creation of all our minds, which may be one mind according to some theories among us.
we have little invested in it being one or the other – one or many minds.
it works for us either way.
why not both?
one thing cannot be two things, cries the logic man.
we laugh.

we experience therefore we exist?
that might be one way to put it, though others will undoubtedly argue about it as they enjoy doing.
i am that i am is another way to express it.
or it is it.
or gazorbnik.
whatever.
we each make it up for ourselves individually influenced by how it is collectively made up by the others.
we steal ideas from whatever sources we might come across as they are useful to us in some way or another.
we gather them and try to fit them together into our own scheme of things that works for us.

then there is the solipsist solution to everything.
it makes it so much easier.
we exist because we say so and no one else may question us cuz we are all only what exists – so there.
but we have our doubts.
but maybe not.

anyway, so here we are all of us together in disarray it seems.
but is everything not in disarray?
why should it be in perfect order as many theories hold to be true?
and why not both?
dualities are not necessarily binary as many theories hold to be true.
they are continuums from one binary pole to its opposite.
these poles have no value other than being opposite.
opposites in opposition.
complementary opposites.
or both.
sigh.
this gets wearisome thinking this shit that few and far between might possibly understand while the world goes mad.
oh well.

another cigarette is called for.
he lights one up.
ahhh…
meanwhile we are thinking about the exact natural role tree frogs might play in the function of turning galaxies.
will this ever be calculated by super-über-duber logic machine minds?
perhaps.
but our mission never ends until eternity is no more.
even death does not seem to hinder us but in fact aid us in our pursuit.
to evolve one mind to another perhaps according to some theories.
whatever may come to be will come to be.
maybe many things will come to be.
all everyone’s idea of it coming true.
is that not this world already?
ideas of reality competing adapting to fit and survive and possibly thrive.
the losers meet with oblivion.
a world not complete but always under construction deconstruction reconstruction and such.
a world we know is always changing from all of our observations.

this is roughly a draft outline sketch of our theory of everything.
we could be entirely wrong.
that’s what makes it a theory, not truth.
but to us all truth is theory until all the data is in which it probably never will be ever never.
as it is they bend their truths for their convenience when necessary to meet the demands of newly discovered evidence to the contrary.
but for many truth is the only answer they will accept.
they are not amused with answers being riddles of more questions.
they won’t put up with theory.
it must be absolute truth not only for themselves but in their minds universally for all everyone to subscribe to and obey without any more fucking questions, goddamn it.
we have nothing to counter to that state of thinking.
everything we know is wrong according to them.
we cannot win.
we cannot even compromise.
for them it’s all or nothing.
thank the gods that may or may not be that we don’t think like they do.
how sad and frightening that would be.

but it seems that the truth believers have an advantage over the rest of us.
they are able to organize and take over the world as they have done.
only a rival counter truth might rise up against them and take their place.
another paradigm whose turn has come.
we however are hopelessly helpless in this regard of domination and control.
first of all we don’t want it even if it were an available option for us.
that is not how our theory of everything works.
action through inaction sort of.
we endure with the possibility that we will continue to be among them whether they or we like it or not.
it doesn’t matter if we do or not.
only that we are here now and we influence what we can in our favor.
in everybody’s favor if they would just stop and think about it.
our way is one way becuz it is all ways.
simple.
adapt and survive.
we are basically parasitic in nature.
we feed off the host while doing little benefit – nor harm.
but are not parasites god’s creatures too?
don’t they deserve their place in heaven?
we happen to think so – but only becuz we are them.

to be continued…

outside the kidnapped paranoia shouts a county biscuit

as a spaceship hovers nearby he imagines himself sitting before the computer hunched over the keyboard typing out a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet about our theory of everything.
first, there is no first.
there is no beginning nor end but as the universe is finitely perceived but not as it is infinitely felt to be.
infinity in all directions – over under sideways down.
what is beauty?
what is ugly?
what absurd questions.
the subjective relative thing.
objectivity is a thing of the past.
ain’t no such thing.
even god is not objective.
it is that which it is and will always adopt that particular subjective view of everything that is – even and especially if everything is itself.
dig?
so we can throw objectivity out the window.
we experience everything as self though the self may be illusion.
we make reality work either for us or against us depending on our state of mind of the moment.
let’s go surfing now.
everybody’s learning how.
the primarily male dominated hierarchical social structure though women have their role in it proving they can be asshole pigs as well.
the male sky gods dominate.
the earth mother god subdued.
what has become of us this way?
what but our greed.
more more more.
more for the needy.
everybody in need.
everybody must be fed.
everybody with a place to sleep.
but the wealthy power elite will have none of it.
all is theirs.
they must possess it.
ain’t nothing we can do but rise up and kill them all.
that’ll do it.
hahaha.
fat chance.
sweet romance.
sweet oblivion take us down.
down beneath the ground.
let’s see what might be found.

he could never decide what he wants.
sitting on a fence.
waiting for it to make some sense.
at times it becomes quite intense.
he’s on the ride of his life.
through the conflict and strife.
balanced on the edge of a knife.
a cloudy day of passing showers.
what to do to pass the hours.
kiss the flowers one by one.
pretend we’re having fun.
maybe we’ll meet on the run.
there sure ain’t gonna be a jubilee to come.
nothing will make us free except to go on a killing spree.
what about you?

enlightenment comes and goes.
one moment we’re shining.
the next we’re dumb as a rock.
yet rocks are wise old souls.
long slow deep thought.
when he dies he wants to come back as a rock.
or maybe a tree.
self-sufficient uncaring unconcerned.
but these are probably reserved for the elite elect like everything else worth a shit.
they keep to themselves telling us we wouldn’t understand being so fucking ignorant and all that bullshit they justify their exalted positions above us looking down with pity and disgust.
but it’s alright.
we’re doing fine most of the time though there are moments when not.
they come and go.
the full range of emotion the wise guys tell us is inappropriate behavior for attaining realization.
fuck that.
we feel what we feel and never mind how uncomfortable it makes others feel.
let them medicate themselves instead of us to get over it.
so many real problems in the world and they make up new unnecessary ones besides.
who cares if they don’t like our rock and roll lifestyle?

we fly high.
we fly low.
we dig it everywhere we go.
so much joy to be had.
living this desperate life ain’t so bad.
up and down all around.
all around town.
this is us.
they are us who divide themselves exclusively apart.
fuckers.
cuz they won all the $$$ they feel they’re hot shit.
there ain’t nothing to be done about them.
greedy pigs have no pride and feel they got nothing to hide but it shows and it blows.
blowing out in the wind.

holy people suck with pretention.
holier than the rest of us.
and millions agree and follow their command.
we steal from them what we might find somewhat useful in our schemes included in with our theory of everything.
we put it together whichever way it fits in our skew of it.
children returning home from the indoctrination center.
we make up the rest to pretend.
our fantasies of ourselves.
it hails outside beneath a dark cloud.
night will fall early tonight.
he will too.
he is already sleepy.

what are the limits to our freedom?
freedom isn’t what we demand for ourselves, but what we allow for others – guru jeff.
what do we endure?
fate throwing spanners in the works of our plans otherwise.
life has to keep going anyway.
no time for slackers like us.
something different occurs.
we appear from nowhere anywhere at any time.
a buncha freaks.
mutant children of the sunrise.
surprise.
here we are now not knowing quite what to do with ourselves.
not knowing what we want – peace or excitement.
we have little ambition but to dream ourselves away from ourselves cuz we are mad that way with promises of love and devotion notwithstanding regardless we dance on our graves sideways to the normative value of our distress in these uncertain times acting out the same tired dramas of old with pretty new faces of the damned and unafraid with no more to lose against tides of those opposed to any opposition to their demands of justice delving heights yonder over the horizon where shadows turn backwards undergoing tumultuous endeavors heretofore mentioned in passing by ghost chipmunks thinking themselves pleasantly amused by outcomes of misfortune otherwise surrendering to themselves again to the advertised powers that be gigantic cock sucking contest whistle blowing cosmonauts all in a row about something now best forgotten by children of all ages sequestered inside a cracker box of flavor jumping for joy everlasting until the final hour has struck too soon too late unable to make up our minds subsequently happenstance balloons enjoying the afternoon delights with spoon insertion directly into brain cavity opening wide with pyramid grace sucking on a cough drop to maximum pleasure mode machine clouds moving across uncertain skies maintained for undisclosed purposes reasoning forthwith asunder remote communications abreast with the times they are a-changing degrees of perpetual sorrow declared by abandoned greek orthodox platoons of prostitutes marching to the sea disturbed by troubling storms sarcastically calling our names as we skate on thin possibility garbage can heroics heralding human hungers forcing the issue from becoming another casualty from the wreckage of our lives.

it’s medication time.
he doesn’t feel that the meds quite make it.
he is having them changed.
the dose was increased on one of them.
supposed to make it so his thoughts are more manageable without spiraling out like lined up dominos one thought to another another another… on and on.
and the breakdowns into gut-wrenching foreboding despair.
what a pickle.
nothing he can’t handle throughout his life of dreaming.
thinking about everything with nothing much to think about.
not much of any real interest.
paying minimal attention – enough to more or less function.
mind in the clouds.
bats in the belfry.
lazy fuck.

it’s cool though whatever.
he sleeps.

he wakes up and goes out to get a mocha and smokes.
he comes home.
a toke.
a cigarette.
fat black cat on the windowsill in the sun.
the world organized to function as one more or less.
operating on the same time.
liquid sky.
big business.
$$$.
he tends to mumble when he speaks.
he expects no one to listen.
quasi-avant garde mish mash doubleplusgood duckspeak.
thinking about everything.
everything is his god.
what mysteries lie hidden in its depths.
will it be anything he may have been able to imagine?
to be ready for it.
watching and waiting.
relax.
the fat black cat being a pest walking back and forth across the desk – and the keyboard.
what energy is created.
what energy is desired and/or feared.
the sun comes out of the gray shade of scattered clouds that sometimes rain.
is he an agent of free will?
or does fate decide what he will decide.
how does fate decide?
is there some logical formula?
or is it magick?
is it an act of will?
is it driven by our total combined actions with karmic repercussions?
he attaches a forked twig into the web of the mind shift/ship ready and waiting for action.
hijack the planet from the bad guys.
make everything alright.
magick sprouting as weeds in the cracks in the wall of brute rationalogic thought and reason.
the takeover will be complete.
in through the out door.
all in our heads outta our minds.
fantasy vs reality – though they don’t need to.
brazil.
wssssq32.
reference points and signs on our way along pathless paths following this one a while then that one then the other one on and on and so on.
landmarks from those who have passed this way before through these wilderness mindscapes.
a brilliant escape route.
he doesn’t know why this seems to be real but it does.
everything is mixed up in this world.
how are we to be expected to find our way through it?
what can we depend on?
we depend on everything.
the full whole of everything not just a slice of the pie.
the pie in the sky.
the pie in our face.
holy cow.

he’s nowhere close.
he has no idea what he’s doing for this or that or the other thing.
he hangs on dangling loose entangled threads twirling.
he thinks about abusive relationships.
he thinks about mountain streams.
he thinks about landing to colonize another planet.
he thinks about promises he’s broken to himself.
he lights another cigarette.
he thinks about being attacked by wild hungry dogs in the streets of the apocalypse.
earth abides.
those who survive.
the golden web of excited excrement.
be sure to wash your hands after and blow your nose.
where we’re at nobody knows.
not even us.
is it that important?
all we can tell is that we’re here now no matter where or when.
everything is here now everywhere everywhen.
duh.

simple things for simple minds.
the mind is a beautiful servant, a dangerous master – guru jeff.
it’s best to keep it simple.
those whose minds have big ideas.
hot dog.
cigarette.
the guy comes to mow the lawn.
he hates to see it being done but, when in rome…
collective social cultural pressure.
the individual oddball.
big white truck rumbles down the street toward the exit.
the world doesn’t come to an end – not completely.
it’s here just as we know it.
yet how much do we know it?
it is a mystery still, is it not?

the absurdity of everything amazes him.
heheheheheh.
what would the world be without being absurd?
the more sense we try to make of it the more absurd it becomes.
but here at central command we understand everything.
what else would we be doing here?
it may seem absurd but it’s true.
by the power of gazorbnik – long may it wave.
there are lessons in everything.
things work in many different ways.
rationalogic is one of them.

the degraded and the sublime hand in hand walking up the street much to many people’s dismay against the expectations of what’s to be expected.
the avatars sit with us in the garden to tell us their stories.
we give them the benefit of our doubt such as it may be.
doing the hokey pokey.
spin the wheels one more time.
come on, lucky 11.

he lights a bowl.
he lights a cigarette.
he thinks about living in interesting times.
the reality simulation machine thing churning.
imagine that.
but what is the base reality of that scenario?
is it as questionable as the one we experience?
why not?
how could it not be?
nothing is unquestionable.

he can’t imagine being without questions.
would he even be conscious anymore?
how would he think?
would it be the eternal silence of nirvana?
shattered perhaps by a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
heaven as forgetfulness.
forget this ever happened.
forget we ever existed.
is that the ideal we are striving for?
fuck that.

possibilities of truth.
a fucking horned god.
out in the fields in full moonlight.
a bonfire roars.
naked dancers flail to the driving beat of drummers.
we celebrate ourselves.

medication time.

simple

he lights a cigarette sitting before the computer flipping randomly through the interwebs to find what he might find waiting for inspiration.
he hasn’t felt too inspired for quite some time.
not since that fateful night.
he desires a cheeseburger but he’d have to go out to get one.
he’s much too comfortable where he’s at.
but he might have to go out to get smokes.
fuck.

he imagines himself continuing typing out a not poem about our theory of everything.
nothing comes to mind.
blankville.
frustration city.
it comes and goes like everyone knows.
waves tides moon and all that jazz like how they tell us it is.
we choose to believe or not.
like it matters.
it’s all fucked up anyway.
when we can no longer trust them cuz of all the liars and deceivers among them and they all are greedy.
but then everyone is greedy.
only some know how to work it to get what they want and more and more of it.
and the system itself is designed to only be able to support the few at the top.
and so on blah blah blah.

everything blah blah blah.
every thought in his head blah blah blah.
every word that he reads or hears blah blah blah.
meaningless drivel.
excited chattering monkeys.
nothing makes no sense.
throw reason out the window.
all is aum vibration – or not.
so what if it is?
what does that do for us but make us feel like nothing?
some sort of castoff cosmic debris.
when do we ever get anything worth shit besides cheap ass trinkets and gizmos or being told we need let go of everything including ourselves?
we once had it all and we fucked up.
we wandered freely in the world living off what we found along the way.
but that wasn’t good enough for some of us who were greedy.
and we let them convince us to work for them to build a better world.
agriculture was the first step toward our damnation.
and all that followed from that with everything getting worse and worse as we systematically destroyed the earth that gives us life.
and blah blah blah and so on.

we staked out our claims and then had to defend them against others while we also tried to grab theirs.
such a life to lead.
oh boy.
ho-hum.
and all that we have attained in the various high arts in the process of our great civilizations don’t mean shit.
not to the abused sick starving neglected children of all ages in the world.
but it’s tough shit for them as we march ever onward around around around in a grand parade to glorify ourselves.
and he goes out to get smokes and a lottery ticket and chips and dip.

he returns safe and sound as however he was before to sit before the computer continuing.
words and words and words.
a not poem of words.
a toke.
could it all be a joke?
many seem to believe so.
a joke never reaching the punchline but strings us along forever.
the drama of it all.
the tragic comedy or comic tragedy as we choose to perceive.
it is it.
it is that it is.
that’s the explanation to a certain extent within its own context.
the interpretations of meaning are varied toward a point of meaninglessness.
that’s ok.
we got gazorbnik to sort it out.
the continuous moment.
the flowing stream of consciousness.
being.
becoming.
la-dee-da.
abstract reasoning outta this world.

and he goes to sleep.

he wakes up a day later with everything the same but in different configurations resembling what was transforming into what will be.
it’s all happening now.
coffee.
toke.
cigarette.
english muffin with strawberry jam.
he ties to take the cosmic view.
it’s all very dazzling and pretty but ultimately it is meaningless.
he looks around at the world and finds it to be meaningless as well.
he doesn’t even know quite sure what would constitute meaning.
a rock is a rock transmitting bits of data communicating that it is a rock.
we receive these bits of data and process them into understanding and recognizing that a rock is a rock.
is that meaning?
if so, then there is meaning all over the place.
but we want to know the meaning of other more abstract things such as the meaning of life and such.
many seek it their whole lives.
many will pay any amount of $$$ to be told what it is.
a boot stomping on a human face, forever.
but we want some sort of feeling of paradise where when we are free from concern and to be ourselves as we are.
we want it now.
the future is no good.
the future does not exist except as some imagined possibility of now.
yet time passes from yesterday to tomorrow.
we are told to ignore all that.
be in the moment.
to sit in a garden on an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
this sad state of affairs when we can’t get our shit together for anything.
the individual must persevere and endure.
the individual must find their own way out of this jam the collective groupthink mind only continually perpetuates.
wandering along on pathless paths and all that jazz.
we cannot trust that anything might not be a lie.
we cannot trust that anyone will tell us the truth.
but as we explore our options otherwise we spiral into a rabbit hole of involuted solipsism to the vanishing point of i am.
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
that is the reflection he sees in the mirror.
another cigarette.

our theory of everything.
everything is nothing.
nothing is everything.
no beginning nor end.
infinity where when we are in the exact center here now.
no boundaries or limits.
everything is based on $$$ – tokens of exchange.
scarcity and self-interest.
gods or not gods don’t mean shit.
fate decides everything.
the universe is a finite aspect of everything.
the finite within the infinite.
the infinite within the finite.
the answer is a riddle.

rationalogic will never comprehend everything.
rationalogic can only comprehend the finite.
the infinite is beyond its grasp.
knowing the infinite is meaningless and useless.
it is detrimental to social functioning among others who haven’t a clue.
we must isolate ourselves from them as much as possible.
they drag us down back into the world so heavy on us in its physical form in this quicksand gravity well of spacetime or whatnot.
back into the hell they create for themselves.
the hell they force upon the rest of us to endure.
when a simpleton could think up a better world than any god.
peace, love and understanding.
but this remains an impossibility for all the greed involved on every level of the hierarchical power structure in place throughout the world at large.
no way to get through.
no way to get out.

it’s a houdini trick.
escape before we die.
free ourselves from the locks and chains and straightjackets.
whose idea was this?
when did we give our permission to have this done to us?
fuck this shit.
fuck whoever whatever is responsible.

are we responsible ourselves?
is this perhaps our own design to amuse ourselves bored outta our immortal minds that have long ago gone mad?
fuck that shit too.

to design and imagine the best and worst of all possible worlds.
to forget this is what we have done and dive into it to experience it however way fate decides it will go.
spin the wheels.
an amusement park of the gods.
fuck the gods.
kill the gods.

around around around it goes and we go with it.
oh boy.
ho-hum.
and who cares how logical or not that it is?
logic is just another belief system.
logic may tell us how to build something but we then decide to build a pyramid for whatever reason logic cannot explain.
the human condition.
the human angst of existence.
this sucks.

and those who proclaim and brag that they have found the way out while leaving the rest of us in this misery.
those who will aid us to find the way for $$$ with their palace ashrams and such.
and we laugh.
is this meant to be funny?
is it a joke?
it would appear to be so.
he takes another toke.
he lights another cigarette.

but he remembers that everything he knows is wrong.
it is best to assume this just in case while we ponder through the meaning of everything.
being wrong = freedom of thought.
what do we have to lose anymore?
everything is up for grabs.
we watch and wait.

a peanut butter sandwich.
a list for when he goes to the store for supplies.
maybe go to the café for a mocha.
his infected tooth hurts to chew.
it’s past medication time.
maybe cream of mushroom soup from a can.

down and down we go dragged by our own ignorance they tell us but that only helps them rationalize their greed.
if this is intelligent design we find it difficult to believe it would be based on primal instincts of a buncha intelligent apes as they would have us believe.
divine hierarchical order – even in hell.
it seems fishy to us.

but there is nothing to be done about that that would not have been done long before now had it been possible.
we each find our own way.
we sneak out the back kitchen door while the others are distracted by the drama party they perpetuate with their willing involvement each trying to get the goods on the other.
such a waste of our time.
but we got time while they got the $$$.
we wouldn’t trade it the other way around for nothing.
what better way to be free to while away our lives thinking about everything all the time?
we learn to stay far outta the way and leave them be to do as they will.
outta sight.
outta mind.
it’s best if they ignore us for the most part.
throw us a pittance to live on and tell us to go away.
life on easy street for the brave and foolhardy.
ain’t no other place to go but down and out.

as fools we hope we are protected by the gods.
so far it would seem so.
we’ve gotten outta a lot of fucked up situations we got ourselves into by some weird occurrence of happenstance or a god’s helping hand.
not much logical explanation.
synchronicities of fate.
odd.

yet we curse them all for creating the situation to begin with full knowing we would fall into it.
this for their amusement?
are we only clowns for their circus world?
kill them all.
kill them in our minds.
it’s our only way out from them and those who do their bidding in this world.
they aren’t part of the solution.
they are the fucking problem.

around around we go.
there’s no stopping us from driving ourselves quite mad.
this is as it is for us in the darkness of our supposed ignorance becuz we ain’t no intellectual scholar type people who know everything they feel there is to know.
cast adrift to find our way to an island of peace and quiet from all their noise and hoopla trying to outdo one another for $$$.
what wild grand schemes they invent for themselves out of nothing.
their house of cards world teetering this way and that way and the other way crumbling here and there from abuse and neglect while built up here and there else in their endless love of $$$.
but such is as it is.
it is it.
what else would it be?
what else could it possibly mean but itself?
simple.

an experiment in consciousness