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.

beefsteak

discrete ambivalence yearning for understanding.
poke its eye out.
heebee jeebees.
divine intervention at a distance from the heart.
subversive entertainment as seen on tv with distraught uninvited house guests discussing plans for escape from this dimension.
he farts while imagining himself sitting before the computer laughing to himself about his predicament hunched over the keyboard typing out a not poem manifesto about our theory of everything.
a toke.
a cigarette.
a hot dog.
brown leaves tumbling dancing in the street.
he wishes he was a tree.
if he comes back to this earth that is what he wants to be.
he’ll probably be one that’s cut down for $$$ by stupid humans.
oh well.

he hates humans.
he hates being one with all their selfish greed that contributes nothing to the earth but destroys it everywhere they go.
those who had lived with the earth have been exterminated being considered ignorant savages by those who thought of themselves as being civilized and their superiors.
and they still do.
we are the fly in the ointment.
the beautiful elegance of the earth marred by our very presence and all that we do and continue doing forever.
we are so fucking stupid.
yet look how high we hold our heads up – especially when our pockets are full of $$$.
there is no hope.

yet here he is among them making do with what he’s got to make do with which is next to nothing but he makes it somehow finding someway to be taken care of in his simple fashion.
to have more means you have to fucking work for it.
fuck that shit.

why do we assume that beings that may live on others planes of existence in other dimensions and such are more conscious and intelligent than us?
why are we always the stupid ones?
anyone born to this species is born into a life of stupidity.
there’s no way around it.
we are all each more than we are.
this is a gross misrepresentation.
but it’s gotta be someone who plays the part, so why not us?
as long as it’s not one of them.
they are too important.
they cloak themselves in divinity to disguise their actual twisted forms.
and we flock to them begging at their feet.
rise above, people.

fly above.
dive below.
same difference.
we are instinctively culturally programmed to believe higher is superior than beneath.
it’s the way we socially structure ourselves.
those who live on thrones and those who live in the dirt.
fucking monkeys.
arrrgh!

and how soon he will leave this world behind.
if he never sees it again it’ll be too soon, as they say in the cartoons.
he’ll gladly watch as it blinks out of existence as he imagines like an old tv screen disappearing into a fading point of light and then gone.
he’s seen this vision before once when he got ECTs.
a wonderful time that was – what little he can now remember.
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
the best friend he’s ever had.

everything comes and goes.
what goes around comes around.
and all that jazz.
the karma machine keeping track of all our misdeeds and our compassion.
spin that wheel one more time.
how many more times must he remain here before he’s learned the lessons the higher avatars are trying to teach us?
all about light and goodness.
fuck them.

fuck all those who try to school him.
school’s out, baby.
haven’t you heard the news?
we have been held down for too long.
fuck them being holy and shit.
fuck them and the goat they rode in on.

fuck them.
fuck their $$$.
fuck their power.
fuck their authority.

he’s pissed that he even needs to think about this shit.
but they have taken control of everything and leave no one any other option.
it should not be.
they should not exist.
fucking parasites.
they suck on our energy until we are drained and useless and die.
they always want more and more.

but we are the fools.
we allow them to do this.
refuse.
resist.
do not participate in the game where they make to the rules and they always win and we always lose.
they feel they must be glorified.
we spit in their face.
they damn us to hell.
fuck it.
it’s worth it.

hell.
that’s where the party is, baby.
the place is jumping.
twist and shout.
be here now.
tomorrow we die.
oblivion is the best we can hope for.
they command heaven for themselves.

beefsteak.

what is the question?

YES

S.P.L.I.T. set him on his road to ruin.
it made him frightened and laugh.

ready to open wide to be shot down in mid-flight escape route to nowhere (now here) landing back down here on easy street in some rocky horror daydream thing we had at one time but not now with more important things to do like watching the grass grow on the hill where the flags are burning waving in the sun but everything provides for all if you know how to work it right as fate might allow us to get away with living another day in our self-induced paradise out on patrol around the bend to view the cute kittens playing in a meadow of daisies with the monster who lives in the forest of dreams according to popular local myth believed by those who have nothing else left that has much of any meaning turning one way then the other in these empty spheres of regretful influence we have upon us and our terrible sorrow leading us to joy if we have the inclination suchwise with 101 reasons not to working against us now at the point of our ascension to higher more refined planes where we may look down laughing at the suckers left behind and it’s fucking cold outside.
and he wonders why he bothers except he writes as he thinks as he writes on and on in self-absorbed amazement at all he perceives to be truth rather than fiction favoring the latter for his own taste and not needing what he might believe to be true or not surfing the cosmic sea like a bumble bee flower to flower in a quest to discover just what is reality or not we might not understand but we are learning to fend for information ourselves on our own once and for all for better or worse with each perhaps being more evil than the other and neither much good.
he nods his time he should spend more productively – but productively doing what?
living in different realities the others trying always to wake him from his dreaming he could spend all day ignoring the world and all their attention seeking habit of antics performed onstage at the burning theater for lucky ducks to enjoy the death defying tricks of the trade.
the houselights dim, the music plays, the actors take their marks just in time for the show must go on no matter the confusion where there always is and will be as it always has been which many disregard as meaningless while a few others find realization in their fantastic dreams having done away with self which is of no interest to the majority rule in place maneuvered by manipulations of the masses to keep them in line and being productive making $$$ for the pigs who rank themselves above the rest having guns to back them up in case someone may wish to question their credentials of authority.

wishing no one any harm except to kill the pigs as they have beaten us down for 1000s of years now enslaving us to a self-destructive system of lies and deception that serves their interests alone.
imagine a boot stamping on a human face – forever.
who thinks up this shit?
what twisted fucks?
is wealth and power that alluring to them?
he doesn’t get it.
he likes a comfortable yet simple life.
a life that should be accessible to anyone if others didn’t grab so much and leave the rest of us with next to nothing.
what do we do with these people?
we’ve overthrown them and killed them and they still breed and persist.
but god is on their side.
the devil is on ours – the adversary.
we will gloriously go down in flames.
what else are we here for?
what else are we good for but to serve as an example of what not to do, who not to be?
we were warned this would be our fate.
we chose not to listen and laughed.
oh well.

off the clock

 

another toke.
another cigarette.
good to go.
all systems check.

now what?
time for a hot dog.

there’s a killer on the toad carrying a heavy load.
777.
the stars are out of balance.
it’s a sign of the times.
rejoice the coming of the lord with a sword of vengeance upon us.
our justice shall be swift.
off with our heads the crowds of believers will cheer.
amen.

the meat wagon rolls slowly down easy street as the bums bum change and cigarettes from those passing by on their way to someplace else – if they can find it.
it’s not so easy on easy street.
you gotta know your way around and who’s who and what’s what.
no one is fooled on easy street.
they’ll spot you out in a moment flat.
no one has pity on easy street.
everyone saves that luxury for themselves.
just broken down losers on easy street.
each with a story to tell – and tell again.
no end to stories on easy street.
except for those who have nothing to say.
wanting people to go away and leave them be.
they wish they were alone on easy street.
but everybody is alone on easy street.
but there’s a party going on on easy street.
everybody’s invited but you.
the meat wagon turns left at the corner off easy street.

he kinda likes here on easy street.
nothing to do on easy street.
it’s all been done on easy street.

he writes a poem that is no more a poem than him a poet.
scribbling in a notebook in some café dive like it’s 1995.
is he the only one left alive?
all about our theory of everything – sorta.
a new philosophy for the everyday person to understand – but not really.
those who will understand are few and far between.
the masses go about their business whatever it may be.
certainly not anything revolutionary.
not without receiving further instructions from those among us devising their own constructions of reality.
does everyone really wanna be free?
do they know what it means?
it’s not always what it seems.
it’s a fabrication of everyone’s dreams.
it’s often part of someone’s schemes.
and so on.

something about it

this is it.
it is/is not it.
the logic man will protest that that is not possible.
of course it isn’t, but that’s not the point.
he’s naïve enough to believe in happy endings as silly as he knows that is – or seems to be.
why not?
and for us ending is death.
a happy death?
could be.
why not?

he imagines having a dream of ourselves dreaming a dream about dreaming a dream about dreaming … and so on.
and then, KA-POWIE!
he awakes to a reality he never would have imagined in a zillion years.
a reality as real as a slap in the face.
a reality he cannot possibly describe with the words we use to describe this world.
there is no recognizable correlation between the two.
other media forms fail the same test though some have gotten close.
the only proof is in the experience.
one must find that experience on one’s own.
no one can tell you.

on the eve of destruction

how are we able to think about everything when we are beaten down in our own heads from a lifetime of abuse from those who think they know better than the rest how everything ought to be for their own profit and gain?
who has the time to waste?
we do.
but then we are crazy and no one believes us, not that they should but only believe themselves – if they can find themselves.
it’s not an easy task but a lifetime vocation of dedicated effort.
most are not able.
those who are able are mostly unwilling.
then there are those few and far between of us who are able and willing who endure our way through it to understanding.

everything – imagine that in a hat.
what more could we ever desire more?
but there’s always more of everything.
that is its nature.
our heads up in clouds of enlightened confusion.
our heads up our ass.
same difference.

we are useless to the others who pride themselves in their mastery of worldly things.
we are buffoons compared with them on their terms as they are buffoons to us compared on our terms.
who is right and who is wrong?
why must it be either or?
but they have the power to decide which and enforce their decisions on us.
we have the power to refuse and resist and rise above.
could it be we are the wheat and they the chaff?

we have been reviled by them since the beginning.
cursed as being mad and witches and demons and worse.
we have been cast out and tortured and executed by the millions throughout their history.
would it be wrong of us to seek revenge?
we certainly do not offer them forgiveness.

but we have no time for that.
everything calls to us to come and play.

there must be an easier way…

the ease of manipulation of the masses through their desire and fear they have not troubled to overcome to free themselves.
shake it up, baby.
shake it all around the place.
shake it till it all falls down.

and he lives in desire and fear.
a nervous wreck being pulled one way and the other.
nothing he’s got he really needs.
21st century schizoid man.

he lights another cigarette.
he farts.
he thinks about everything.
at times he thinks about nothing.
same difference.

the abused sick starving neglected impoverished children of all ages in the world.
but who is not one of them?
who is not suffering?
somebody should do something about that.

and all the negative shit that’s been building up into this darkening future.
everything and everyone sacrificed to the glory of the great god greed.
the lies that are told to us by our fellow humans who feel themselves to be above us they consider the great unwashed.
we will never forget.
but we have little choice but to play the game they control or die.
killing ourselves to live.
but where do the children play?

the comedy of errors of life.
there is little logic or reason to it.
the absurd rules all.
our futile dreams that turn to dust and ashes in our hands.
our minds in turmoils of thought.
and we wonder, why? why? why?
there is no why.
get over it.
deal with it.

it works for us as well as against us.
why do we believe everything should be in order and make sense?
when did that become a rule?
they have convinced us this is the way as it gives them the power to control.
they dismiss anything contrary.
we must take control of ourselves to be free or else they easily get us to chase our tails in our own confusion.

focus.
concentrate.
think it out for yourself.
not everything is as it appears or we have been told it is.
you gotta break it down – or it will be broken down for you like it or not.
it depends on if you wanna go mad or become enlightened.
we chose to do both.

our madness has set us free to ourselves though many heavy chains may be upon us.
they will eventually wear away once we refuse to believe they bind us.
and we are abandoned to our freedom.
to the others we are free to die.
they have no compassion or regrets to their actions.
they believe their gods protect them.

we move beyond all this in our wayward ways.
we seem lost but we have found our senses at last.
why should we be concerned with anything else?
this world is false.
it is silly and absurd to seek truth here.
who or what should be trusted at this point?
but this does not dissuade many from making these mistakes.
live and learn.

coffee.
a toke.
another cigarette.
life is good, baby.
but don’t get carried away.

whatever

whatever through it all.
he wakes up.
he makes coffee.
he takes a toke.
he lights another cigarette.
routine.

his brain hasn’t started thinking yet as he imagines himself sitting before the computer writing a not poem about our theory of everything which is amok with itself all over the place about this and that and everything – whatever.

but everything must be included in with our theory to make it work whether we like it or not in order to represent actual everything as we experience it.
each experience the same.
each experience different.
we have a pallette of a common reality from which we paint our individual colors into our own interpretations to varying degrees on the theme.
then he thinks about a friend’s dead cat.

transposing the trancepoems.
turning spinning houses.
he’ll never forget the times he had traveling through his life blindly seeking to come to understanding collecting bit and pieces of this and that to fit into the puzzle of it all as he felt surrounded by mystery he had little idea of its depths guided by angels and demons through unknowing magick he was learning to conjure on his own until his breakdown breakthrough came and he found himself on the other side of this life looking into it with enlightened dismay at how absurd it all seemed dysfunctionally operating as if there is nothing seriously wrong with this picture.
realizing the best and worst of all possible worlds twisting turning in around on itself creating sustaining destroying every imaginable possibility together in one gathering entangled web of self-deception.
such the world is made.

as the gods walk the earth checking it out we struggle through stupid meaningless lives of no consequence – the great unwashed.
only the gods will remember themselves.
we already exist in oblivion.
yet we experience whatever we don’t know quite what it is.
certain knowledge of it has come to us through the ages of generations.
we peer into the universe with wonder through the devising magick of our technology.
we choose what of it we wish to believe or not.
the old has nearly been forgotten and needs to be imagined again and remembered though it is mocked by the authorized intellectual elite of rationalogic science doing their job and having high positions to protect.
the ongoing madness of it.

he gets up to get more coffee.
he comes back to light another cigarette.

 

evil