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.

[=]

when one runs outta dreams.
at the café scribbling in a notebook a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet about our theory of everything disjointed mish mash of whatnot.
nothing is revealed.
there is nothing to be revealed.
nothing we do not know already if we think about it.
waking up with mocha in hand.
cars traveling by outside the window.
disco beat on the stereo.
he wonders about all the misery there is in the world for no reason.
he overcomes it for himself most of the time but when he becomes fearful overwhelmed by thinking turning into dark passages of heart and mind which he has become used to by now happening time to time.
but as he imagines a house by a garden gate on an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
he shipwrecked here years ago in the heights and/or depths of his madness.
no one can do him no harm.
cigarette in hand.

he is empty void.
is this a good thing or bad thing?
he let’s go of most everything he’s had in the past to free himself from bondage to it.
he has a rock in his pocket.
he imagines possessing everything that is and is not.
clouds drifting by laden with rain from the sea on this semi-rainy day with bouts of sunshine.
a dream world.
a world of dreams surrounding him in his isolation.
a visitor to this strange world – or not.
what is he supposed to learn?
decreed by who?
the masters?
fuck them.
what does he want to learn?
not much of anything.
maybe more about tree frogs or how everything works.
he feels pain all around him.
the pain of ignorance on all levels bottom to tippy top of the mass of humanity stuck in this misery world we have created of our own free will.
back when we had the earth to freely wander.

he wanders in his own ignorance not seeking or searching but still coming across bits of information here or there everywhere he goes in his head turning around.
standing on his head standing his ground.
he basks in contentment is all he asks.
he wants none of joy or sorrow nor anything of other extremes of emotion humans feel.
this easy peace.
love is a lost memory.
understanding is unfurling before him as he proceeds along pathless paths toward unknown destinations.

meanwhile he comes home again sitting before the computer gazing out the window at what he can see of the world as it appears to be as it is but he knows better.
hunched over the keyboard he begins typing out words that are ultimately meaningless faced with everything that could be as others have been here in the same situation.
thoughts wild in his head.
they just won’t behave themselves acting all silly.
everything will be forgotten and nothing forgiven.
he leaves no history behind himself as if he isn’t here at all.
and maybe he is not.
who knows?

whatever it might be or not he continues his mission.
he is here for a reason though many would argue that point.
the universe is absurd to them.
let it be so.
it doesn’t much matter to him.
if one’s faith is easily shaken by opposition then it does us no good but actually works against us.
he has faith in his doubts.
he has doubts about his faith.
he is left nowhere (now here).
old and slow.
the clocks are running down.
too much too late.

a toke.
a cigarette.
he is tired.
he’s worn out used up.
they have taken everything from him that they could without taking everything.
or does he do that to himself?
the sun comes out for a while.
he may could have been somebody nobody to fuck with.
but he thinks about that and what a person’s head is like to be that person.
he wants no part of that.
he’d rather be no one with nothing.
he’d rather live in a tub.
but it’s not in his nature nor nurture to be a big somebody – or even a little somebody.
besides, it seems like a lot of work.
he’s too damn lazy for anything like that whether in the real world or spiritual worlds.
he’s quite more or less comfortable where he’s at sitting on the edge of the seat on the ride of his life with periods of quiet contemplation thinking writing imagining becoming.
finally he is absent.
as if not here now at all.
but it will always be with or without him – or not.
or to awaken from a dream to be inside a dream dreaming dreams as infinitely regressive russian dolls forever, amen.
everything unfolds before him.
so much beyond his immediate comprehension.
he’ll have to think about it.
the clouds of heaven parting.
transcending into celestial spheres of fields of energies radiating from everything everywhere everywhen.
the appearance of everything enough to fool our senses into believing its reality until we look through it to see its inward being.
infinitesimal to infinity one and the same or vice versa.
sailing cosmic seas our freak flag flying high higher highest like neptunian gas bag things merrily playing in blue blue atmospheres of home sweet home away from home.
free.

from life to life.
from death to death.
we wander through worlds each different from the last to enjoy the wonders of everything being as real as we can imagine it to be.
we are amazed by our own creating sustaining destroying transforming ourselves ever anew through eternity as long as it lasts in a moment.
a moment divided split to itself in order to conjure up the appearance of reality through continuum waves of complementary polarized opposites in opposition action/reaction yin yang thing to create the contrasting environment necessary for the perception of anything.
infinitesimal binary bits blinking on/off as instructed at random while patterns develop by happenstance fate to become everything that is including ourselves.
spin the wheels one more time.

there are no gods but us.
or not.
we rise above ourselves to become ourselves.
the universe is a gigantic infinite loop of itself through the eye of a needle of spacetime.
or something like that.
a singularity mustard seed.
we perceive through our believing we perceive.
yet we fight our wars among ourselves while some of us find some measure of peace and tranquility enough to actually think about anything we might choose whatever comes to mind.
they are no good to us as we are no good to them.
complementary polarized opposites in opposition blending in the middle along a continuum between until who can tell which is which.
according to our theory of everything as much as we are able to surmise about it being in such a state of mixed up confusion like it is modeling how we speculate everything is in and of itself in actuality if there is such a thing.
to each their own way until unless they interfere with others and then we do something about it if we think we can which in most cases we cannot as evidenced by the statistical results which often are far worse than the original problem and on and on like that for all of human history till now as we proceed along the same lines as before thinking we can fix everything while under the spell of the knowledge of good and evil which causes us to believe there is something to be corrected and improved upon to begin with.
only when this spell is lifted from us for the time being can we begin to truly perceive what perhaps might be reality and adjust ourselves accordingly.
or not.

he has been fortunate enough to be one of these who have had the opportunity to think everything out to what extent we are able considering the circumstances of our particular situations.
still, he feels it has been a complete waste of his time.
yawn.
he chews some bazooka.
he doesn’t know what he wants.
he wants to experience everything he can while not having to actually do anything.
so he spends his time in his head thinking about everything he knows about and/or can imagine perhaps being.
a dreamer of this world – the best and worst of all possible worlds rolled into one.
something for everyone whether they like it or not.
up the ass with a red hot rusted barbwire dildo.
burning ripping flesh.
the audience of the burning theater gasp then cheer wildly at the horrific screaming.
well worth above and beyond the price of admission.
imagine what we will without conflicting restraint.
no reward nor punishment but the pleasure and pain of the self.
into heaven and into hell we go.
in thinking about everything he knows little about anything.
he sacrifices knowing anything for understanding everything.
perhaps a fool’s choice.
oh well.
better luck next time.

goodness and light cannot exist without evil and darkness.
some of us go one way others of us go the other never finding what we seek.
the fault lies in our perception each believing reality can be divided suchwise.
we can’t get there from here.
if we could we’d be there.
but here we are now.
get used to it.
realize this is where when everything is all happening.
think of something that does not exist in reality or imagination.
go ahead.
do it.

he doesn’t know quite why or even how he thinks about anything.
it comes to mind from… ???
a muse?
a god?
the devil?
logic and reason?
random happenstance?
alien mind probes?
who knows?

he thinks about i am.
i am is the thing to be the thing that we are universally the same before any and all distinctions otherwise are made.
i am this.
i am that.
i am the other thing.
etc.
that’s where when we get into trouble for various reasons under the sun.
but it’s all in fun.
everything we have done.
we walk away laughing.
it’s all make believe to us as gods bored with immortal life.
but there’s no turning back.
but we are interconnected mortal and immortal.
one cannot be without the other as is with all duality.
and the continuum between and beyond.
we imagine infinity and behold here it is in blazing glory disappearing further than light can see.
everything interconnected e pluribus unum throughout it all everything everywhere everywhen.
and the infinitesimal which is its own infinity.
and the finite which is its own infinity.
and everything contained within the others.
spiraling cycles never repeating quite the same ever forever.
an entanglement of serpents swallowing each other’s tails.
shazam.

tickets for paradise.
empty pockets.
come as you are to become.
infinity allows for every possibility even the improbable and impossible if need be.
there essentially are no rules – or more correctly there are all rules.
all rules cancel each other out until there are none.
then everything breaks loose.
this is all outside what we know as the spacetime universe which in this context is finite while everything is infinite to the furthest reach of everything infinity might possibly mean.
all in the wink of an eye.

it’s thoughts as these that drive us mad which drives us to have thoughts as these.
around around.
which came first is the social construct distinction of madness without which this whole question would be moot.
the question our madness poses for others who decide whether to agree or disagree with it.
it is supposed and assumed that they are the vast majority so they are the ones who make it so or not so.
but what they collectively decide based upon various criteria about what they are told to believe by who and so on.
but we are content being mad.
we have been fortunate to have received this gift of fate to ourselves.
we couldn’t ask for more – except to win the lottery.

the empty solitude of it pretty much self-imposed upon ourselves to be free from needless drama of the surrounding others in the reality of their lives ongoing in their own social collective madness we all are tangled up in as soon as we are born ever onward through constant psychic bombardments of conflicting information by all media concerns involved with their respective propaganda agency agendas until there is few if any remaining sources we might trust to tell us anything resembling what could be the truth or some such whatever constitutes meaning for us.
for us truth has little meaning though it is an important component of the overall picture we imagine as everything.
we do not view truth as the be all of everything as others consider it to be.
there are other things than truth.

conflicted and conflicting storms of angels and demons of all our desires and fears plague us until we confess our crimes and surrender to our heart’s content upon the altar of our perpetual sacrifice we are meant to act out to fulfill the prosperity of others who stand by and silently watch.
we refuse.
we resist.
we are cast out from among them to the island of misfit toys in the sea of oblivion where we bask relaxing in lazy leisure all day and night passing slow time watching and waiting for nothing that will ever happen.
those days are gone.

heaven and hell help us from ourselves.
we are the cause of our own destruction as we are of our own creating and sustaining.
everything transforming.
everything remains perfectly still relative to what we cannot tell.
there is no such thing as motion.
infinity is unmoveable.
infinity is un-anything.
infinity is not.
there is no spacetime.
there is no universe or world.
there is no ourselves.
we are extinguished by our own reasoning.
we think too much.
we are mad so it doesn’t matter.

as if some metaphysical world appears by magick to our enlightened eye is not necessarily how it works.
view the plain and ordinary to see it is not as plain and ordinary as first it may appear but is transformed by vibrant living energies in everything into extraordinary wonder while remaining unchanged but as unchanged like water not stone.
but stone is water if viewed correctly.

the problem and question of everything has been solved ages ago which formulates our ideas about god being exactly that and none other.
we want to remove this imposter usurper from our thinking and from the thinking of those surrounding us who can become quite dangerous with their interpretations of such a thing as god.
everything as a living being eternal.
a gestalt of everything becoming consciousness.
we ourselves becoming part of this consciousness but not its whole unless we discipline ourselves in tune with it which seems entirely possible on paper.
but there have been along the way those who have used this near unimaginable idea of god for their own interests and economic and political ends over the ignorant and easily led masses.
it is this god that causes us nothing but trouble we oppose.

we do not need to be forgiven by some lord god almighty that is a product of an ancient unenlightened brutal time we should have easily surpassed but for those who hold onto it still.
so many are beaten down by life and are told it is their own fault that the idea of forgiveness is tempting and they are lured in by those who profit from their continuing misery perpetuated by further degrading sermons and such like.
everything without god.
everything just as itself without any supernatural anthropomorphic dada attached to it.

thrown into a world with nothing to go on but how it all appears but with a tingling sense something ain’t quite right about it somehow.
when their answers don’t answer all our questions.
when we are too confused that we cannot formulate the questions needing to be asked.
but this is it.
this is as how it is.
when we are told our reason is unreasonable.
when it is determined by them for us to be mad like that is at all productive for anyone.
can’t they follow our logic in its wandering way about it that arrives at different conclusions or no conclusions?
what’s wrong with them?
are they that stupid?

we lose track of ourselves along our way toward whatever we might happen upon next.
their rationalogic maze of thinking.
our irrationalogic meandering hither and yon this way that way the other way on and on.
but irrationalogic is not a term we like to use though it is what it is as the irrational is not definable nor is our way of thinking.
but the irrational is considered in a negative connotation while the rational is considered to be the correct way for us to be thinking.
there is the rational which is all very good for what it is.
there is the irrational which is taken to mean anti-rational.
so we make up gazorbnik which is more or less the same as irrationalogic but much much more.
it should be stated that gazorbnik is not meant to replace rationalogic but to add to it and to discover aspects of everything rationalogic cannot think about cuz it would break the rules.

the universe is not perhaps as much spherical but amoeba-like wiggling squiggling in the void.
the void of that which we thus far cannot perceive.
the supposed multiverse is of no interest to us.
more russian dolls.
where is the end to it?
watch them dance the hoochie-coo.
we will be forgotten.

a fingertip into a calm quiet pool to create moving rippling waves reflecting light and shadow images to please the eye.
the self within the self and all that jazz.
with no beginning nor end of beginnings and endings everywhere everywhen.
we enter the absurd to be described using the language of the absurd.
a language of hidden meanings like surreal landscapes stopping on a dime.
the higher conspiracies develop along lines of hopeful pleasure.

to the discovery of itself with high distinction disconnected from the ordinary spacetime event fields waiting by the door opening into the sins of the flesh written across damp skies forbidden by decree of mushroom logic devised from tidbits of flavored fear in the café he sits with mocha scribbling sketches of a not poem into a notebook with spiral wire binding empty blue lined pages at a table by the window gazing out at traffic rolling by on wheels spinning around like a tadpole in a jar toward uncertain destinations imagined forthwith succumbing to desires brought about by heroic efforts on the part of the everyperson who happens to come in for coffee to go on their way toward the constitutional misgiving dreaming turning left at the next light where fortune awaits silently becoming misused as a product of dreaming masturbating bear bearing no resemblance to what may have been imagined thus far developing fish fry taken seriously as the emptiness drags on catching breath speaking about the easy remembering of dead grandmothers and broken heads tick tocked inside a closet full of dandelions coming out into the open arms of tomorrow hidden in festering oozing gaping wound in the service of the temple dedicated to successful enterprises of powerful interests sleeping in unmade beds screwed in tight against any circumstances that may disrupt seeking answers of ancient problems best forgotten.
he eats nothing.
he forgets something.
everything calls his name from a list of those destined for oblivion where we celebrate the day from the night gently fading across the sea tossing tumbling mistaken identity wingnuts with masonic ritual notwithstanding the impossible police car crashing through the gates of eden.

to organize the disorderly mob gathering on the field of battle of wits to move mountains.
and this is nothing to sneeze at.
we wonder about certain uncertainties coming over the horizon to share secret identities among ourselves for no obvious other reason than to be mysterious.
the masses are kept distracted from understanding.
their grunt pleasures.
their blank expressions shouting with unspoken rage.
he feels being had by enterprising propaganda machines duking it out for mass control.
but he has always felt suspicious about things he could not name.
he steps out on the patio for a smoke.
overcast sky of dim light.
he is amazed at everything he sees around him no matter how dull and mundane it appears otherwise.
he opens then closes his hand a few times wondering about how he makes that happen by thinking it.
it’s a miracle.
everything is a miracle of some sort.
we just need an eye to see it while others walk on by.
which reality is real?
he is prepared to confess his supposed reality being composed primarily of self-induced fantasy and fiction and much else besides that is not considered correct enough to be a person in good standing among one’s social economic peers as he is.
in death of night to that funky beat.
signals in the dark.
we remain oblivious to one another in our pursuit of self-interest.
a planet full of billions of solipsistoids with dreams clashing canceling out one another until a world is created to become reality.
it’s a miracle.

he is home.
it’s time for a nap.

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?

in another dream

to find our own way through it.
to connect the dots.
but through to what?
through into the heart of the fun machine.
look at us go.

examine the probable evidence notwithstanding other possibilities.
how do we choose to begin to describe that which has no beginning?
where do we end when there is no end?
a moment everlasting continuing.
or not.

it is here now.
we are here now – sort of.
past and future illusions in our delusional minds.
yet time seems to work ok and make a lot of people a lot of $$$.
not like some spaced out old freak living off the benevolence of the state when friends and family turned him away.
we can imagine what actually might be while not directly perceiving it in its entirety or simplicity.
we imagine a plenum of infinitely dense matter to a singularity point of 0 dimensions.
it’s all relative to the subjectivity of the objective observer.
a point that is either on or off or not.
the exact nature of it.
it is it.
it is not it.
creating sustaining destroying.
transforming through it all.
existing here now.
everything everywhere everywhen.

meanwhile, don’t think everything you believe.
other than that we continue with him waking up to the world again imagining himself sitting before the computer typing out a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet about our theory of everything.
a toke.
a cigarette.
a time to consider everything he knows about everything.
not much considering what there is to know about everything.
but maybe he’s got it mixed up?
maybe he need not concern himself with everything?
but why not?
he can’t think of any reason.
he is mad.
he can think about whatever he wants to.

madness has its drawbacks.
for one thing, you are mad.
but it allows many freedoms sanity does not.
sanity is socially determined and caused construct thing.
to have sanity means we conform to the given society we wish to or are forced to belong to.
to be mad means going it alone for the most part.
he dislikes groups – large groups, small groups, it doesn’t matter.
he doesn’t know quite how to function within them.
he’s always on the outer edges.
and he usually doesn’t believe what they believe in to maintain their cohesion as a group.
so he makes it up for himself gathering bits and pieces from the ideas of others to use in a montage philosophy that most would not know how to begin to understand.
he doesn’t know either.
he’s just around around looking at it all that he’s collected so far and to see if it might make some sorta sense if put together in any certain way or not.
so far he hasn’t had much success – though some of dubious nature has occurred along the way.
he feels dubious about many things – mostly himself.
he reads this and that and the other thing about stuff that might help him understand everything.
much of it contradicts other things he’s read and vice versa.
he is free to choose which and what to believe and/or doubt.
he has spent his life doubting for the most part but wanting to believe something – but only if it is true and real.
he wondered how one goes about finding and determining that about anything.
this is what brought him to everything.
if anything is true and real it is everything.
if everything isn’t true and real then nothing is, right?
so, it’s kinda the same thing either way.
and he set himself out to experience everything he could for himself.
he lived a more or less simple life working grunt work and having a family and stuff like that.
he pretended he was an artist and a poet for years before the realization came to him that he was neither.
oh well.
then he went mad, though he has always been mad since he can remember.
then the state saved his ass and he lived happily ever after with all the time he wanted to think about everything which he realized is his true vocation.
and so all that begins.

but he realizes also that everything he knows is very nearly wrong.
he discovers that with everything he’s thought about doesn’t add up to a clue.
he’s at square 1 face to face with this vast ignorance he must now grope his way through.
there is little that might help him as what he seeks is not of this world as he now perceives it.
or so they tell him.
it must be experienced to be known.
we’ll see about that.

but in this course are many paths leading every which way that may arrive at the same point or not.
some may lead away.
he must trust his instinct about it.
or choose every way as he has done before.
he is physically too old and slow for much of it he neglected when he had the chance when he was younger, so he uses his imagination.
that’s the ticket.
spin those wheels one more time.
let’s see where we end up.

and with new realizations of more avenues to understanding everything he is gladdened to continue when everything had seemed to him desperately hopeless previous up till now.
maybe the increase to his medication is working.
the cosmic waves unfurling around him as he proceeds onward or backwards or sideways or whatever may or may not become something or another.
he awaits to become surprised and amazed.
he needs to reorganize and redirect his madness for new adventures to explore perhaps or not.
he must beware of expectations that always breed disappointment and such.
it is urged for him to change his ways.
perhaps to some extent.
have a brighter more hopeful outlook.
all that goody positive shit.
what about evil negative shit?
neither should sway him one way or another.
he’s not much interested in either and is wary of those who are as he is with anyone of any particular persuasion or another.
screw that shit.
school’s for fools.
if he can’t figure it out on his own terms then fuck it.
let the others have their glory they seek following teachings of masters and all that hoopla ilk and such dada dogma doo-doo whiz bang.

butterflies and zebras.
dead butterflies and zebras.
either way should not matter to him and he finds strangely enough that it really doesn’t.
he is ambivalent toward such distinctions realizing both must occur for everything to operate as it does.
simple.
all duality negated.
all continuums collapse.
all becomes one.
one becomes all.
words are practically useless at this point.

but he has nothing but words.
words that ultimately are meaningless.
but it is the way of the mad to babble whatever nonsense comes to our troubled minds.
those who speak do not know.
those who know do not speak.
and all that jazz.
he didn’t make the rules.
he had absolutely no say in any of this whatsoever.

he knows he doesn’t know shit.
it doesn’t bother him much.
should it?
what’s to know?
the answer is a riddle.
a riddle of more questions than one can shake a stick at.

open/close.
he tries it another way.
probably the “wrong” way.
he won’t parade with head held high above the rest.
he’ll creep in the dark corners of his own mind giggling at the absurdity of it.

he refuses to take any of this business seriously, often to his detriment.
he cannot bring himself to it.
if we can’t laugh at god then what can we laugh at?
what a joke.
take a toke.
at times he wishes to spit in god’s face.
he wants to piss on god’s unmarked grave.
he will never never worship that asshole ever.
why doesn’t god worship us?
are we such horrible creatures it created on purpose?
what a fucked up mess.

the way he imagines must not be.
it is too absurd against their rationalogic reason that makes $$$ for them who follow that path.
our ways seem impossible given our nature as competitive self-interested brutes.
and it is true.
they never will achieve it as we have.
it is it.

and we are scorned for this.
we are openly insulted to our face.
we are shunned and cast out.
fuck their misery loves company scam schemes.
we’d rather die out on our own.

breathe…

???
the absurdity of it continues.
this way and that way and the other way on and on.
spinning wheels.
mistakes will be made.
he has no confusion about that.
in conversation with himself thinking what he is writing what he is thinking.
as if there is anything there at all to consider.
medication time.

quickening doubts.
twists and shouts.
angels and demons in his head trying to convince him their way or the highway.
let them have their war with one another.
what does it have to do with him and his wandering pursuit of happiness?
the destination is the journey or vice versa or some such.
pathless paths.
the random synchronicities.
the voices in conversations in his head.
he listens for the one most difficult to understand.
silence.
he cannot hear it except he can imagine it.
silence is the expression of eternal bliss consciousness, if one is into that sort of thing.
the self bathing in the self bathing in the self… if you think about it.
gone back to the 0 dimension singularity.

if that is the goal then he’ll take his time getting there.
but maybe not.
but he is already there cuz there is here now.
the 0 dimension singularity radiating everything everywhere everywhen.
to be and/or not be.
the answer is a riddle playing a fiddle for the monkey in the middle.
dance, monkey, dance.

he’s pooped.
he lights a cigarette.
his heart belongs to hello kitty.
his mind belongs to everything.
his self belongs to nothing.

he farts.
it smells.
he wonders about the wonders of the known universe not much impressed with the displays of special effects that wow the crowd generated to produce this illusion.
not when so many suffer becuz of it.
the proof is in the pudding.
nazi-zionist illuminati secret chief reptilian overlords dictating the world at large.
we are nothing.
he is something.
he has his secrets he’s not telling anyone too.
secrets madness revels.
he savors them with the tongue of his mind gone sideways from the usual scheme of things in general among the population who refuse to understand but party hardy and rah rah rah for our side and such.

a sign from heaven or hell.
both each are silent.
he cannot decide which he might wanna side with.
both each have their fair share of assholes promoting their cause.
what is their true nature and purpose?
he can’t know everything.
not like how others claim they do proudly boasting their accomplishments in this regard.
he has many doubts but nothing to counter with that is accepted within their exclusive rationalogic reasoning they hold dear to.
he lights a meditative cigarette.
nothing can do him no harm.
until he puts it out.
then everything breaks loose again.
wheee… ???

reflex mind.
action/reaction.
yin yang thing.
this is not the way to go.
go away from us.
nothing for you here but cornfusion.
you don’t wanna mess with that.
leave it up to the professionals.
opening up a can of worms is serious business.
it takes a steady mind and shakey hand.
it takes quack-a-whack-a-doodle all day.
no one understands but to dismiss our supposed irrationalogic without a thought otherwise.
without a clue.
without a voice but a legion of the fuckers inside his head yakking it up for his confused amusement.
he laughs at and with them.

he feels within.
deep penetration like alien anl probe in the dead of night in a dream.
peace.
calm.
relax.
this won’t hurt a bit.
ouch?

broken splinters of mind over matter thing-a-ma-bob thing.
he works with what he’s been given by fate and karma and such.
not playing with a full deck.
so that goes with a bang.
they want him and his kind eliminated.
the ones with too many questions.
the ones with too many doubts.
we’ll come back in more favorable times if they might ever occur which we have our doubts about that.
he’s duped himself all his life.
the chickens come home to roost.
now he sizes up the situation  and is uncertain what to do.
which side to join?
why must that be the only choice given by the others of this world?
they are held bound by its spells and promises.
everything will be better we are told.
work harder and we will achieve our goal and receive our reward.
life in heaven.
don’t even think about it.
you’ll spoil it for yourselves.
full speed ahead, comrades.
be prepared.

his busy mind always thinking up new tricks for itself.
mind outta control.
mind free to its own devices.
mind that couldn’t care less.
his secretive mind that will not reveal what it knows or not.
not unless he has the codeword.
gazorbnik unlocking any door – every door.
maybe not necessarily all at once.
the resulting light and darkness would be blinding.
that is what we are composed of.
that is what we perceive.
we are idiots stumbling through the attic for hidden treasures we wouldn’t know what to do with.
medication time.
he has to poop too.

mission accomplished.
now to carry on.

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…

love?

we seem to have disappointed many who feel perhaps we do not have the answers they are looking for.
oh well.
the answers we have found are riddles of more questions.
back into the grind of it.
thinking much too much and all that jazz.
people aren’t ready for it.
turning spinning houses.
we are built for times like this.
eat or be eaten.
logic never fails.
time is $$$.
and so on into the night.
better late than never.
we are very much late.
we’re holding up the whole show.
the others are annoyed.
but there was music playing and we got taken away.
we are really not supposed to be here but here we are.
it’s complicated.
deal with it, baby.

love, love and more love.
suckers born every minute.
get into the groove of it.
get taken for all you’re worth and then some.
but continue to love.
lovey dovey.
love is the key to open all doors.
this is what the wise guys claim.
but what is love?
what is hate and all other emotion?
what makes love so fucking special?
fucking hippies smoking all that dope is what that is.
round ’em up.
get ’em outta here.
he lights another cigarette.
the love/hate duality.
yin yang turning spinning.
see it everywhere everywhen.
in a puddle of mud with chemical rainbow sheen.
gaze into your reflection.
narcissus in a toxic waste dump.
someone should call his name but he never answers.
we walk away.

no one gives a shit.
not that we are able to determine thus far.
we are made to feel so helpless – useless.
nothing ever changes except who holds the wealth and power at any given moment.
for us life is the same.
mundane lives in a mundane world where light is dim.
like living in a cave entrapped against our will imprisoned lied to misled.
it’s all part of the game.
winners and losers.
the few winners and the many losers.
and the winners enjoy the spoils.
the losers beg in the street.
what a fine upstanding world this is.
what a fine mess we gotten ourselves into.
he believes in love but doesn’t believe those who profess love.
he feels nothing from them.
holier than thou.
more loving than thou.
love is not a competition.
it is free for all.
choose or not choose.

he loves all.
all is as it should be – sorta but not really.
all is as it is – sadly.
he loves satan and all the demons in hell on earth.
he loves killers rapists torturers, etc.
he loves and he loves for all the good it does.
nobody wants love.
love don’t pay no bills.
give ’em $$$.
that’s what they want.
this is what has become of us from our greed.
greed for all things.

enjoying a gray sunny day in the café wondering why it always turns out that we are the dumb fucks of the universe who need to become enlightened and shit.
we should be born enlightened is what he thinks – yes?
that would make things far more simpler for all concerned.
but who then would the wise guys have seeking their guidance?
they’d be out of a job – useless.
the whole institution would be obsolete.
wouldn’t that be wonderful?
imagine no one degrading us telling us how ignorant and stupid we are.
but it’s a game they play with us as their expendable pieces.
a game rigged in their favor to maintain their positions on high above us pulling strings.
and we refuse.
we resist.
we participate as little as we can get away with while they control all the resources we need to survive.
there’s no place to go anymore.
they “own” the world.
we endure what we can while we can.
some of us opt out.
others stay in it trying to change it but it is ingrained into our nature and nurture reinforced by indoctrination.
one power elite who promise us they are on our side replaces another.
it needs to be torn down to the ground.
the very foundation needs to be torn up or we will only rebuild what has been.
why build anything at all?
that seems to be the crux of the problem.
all our plans for improvement that only make matters worse in practice.
bring it down to level.
our feet on the ground.
a lament will rise about the wonders of our civilizations now gone reclaimed by the earth.
there will be those who will want to put the pieces back together again.
we must not listen to them.
we must not allow them to mislead us as they have before with promises of better tomorrows and shit.
fuck that noise.
fuck them.
fuck us if we heed their words.
we wander the earth naked unafraid.
relax.
enjoy.

but what does being enlightened mean anyway?
knowing truth?
knowing god?
and shit.
truth/god is a rock in his pocket.
he’s got it covered.
or else it’s a deep dark secret known only to an elite elect to meager out to us ignorant folk kept in the dark as it pleases them.
you decide.

it’s a bullshit scam.
a set up that needs us to play the fools.
and we willingly play into it going to them begging for salvation.
save yourselves, fuckers.
get up off your knees.
turn your backs.
walk away.
become.
but who pays any attention to us?
we are mad.
we babble meaningless nonsense of our confused minds.
hahaha.
let them believe what they will while we sit in a garden watching waiting.
no one shows up.
we expect no one.
no one is clever or crazy enough.
they follow the ancient outdated ways dressed up as something new and different.
they have no memory so they are easily deceived and taken for all they are worth $$$ and soul.
it’s sad to see but what are we to do?
this is what we do.
so it goes.

but to continue the not poem he writes about our theory of everything on and on explaining nothing as there is nothing to explain that others do not experience for themselves in some manner or another.
or so the theory goes like that.
but it is about how we individually think and feel about our experience that makes the difference.
the differences in what we think and feel about whatever.
why one of us gets it while others do not.
the few and far between.
he doesn’t know how or why.
it shouldn’t be this way but it seems to be.
makes him wanna destroy it all in the name of love.
love guns.
love bombs.
we’re taking over.
gonna set you free whether you wanna be or not.
no more mr. nice guy.

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.

heavenly grudge

he began searching for god and found the void.
he found god in the void.
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
void of everything – even nothing.
then suddenly, i am.
the soul of bliss consciousness.
who is not i am though i am is no one?
the i am within who we believe ourselves to be.
as we fall deeper and deeper into it.
the i am aum thing vibration throughout the known universe ringing in our heads with discordant harmony devised by ancient ritual notwithstanding humming with energy continuing on and on.
he is fooling himself with hollow hallowed thoughts of himself alone as he has been abandoned here in this world he has never quite been able to understand thinking this way that way the other way about it much to his continued confusion.
if he could get his shit together but he has never been able to decide on what to do except being warned not to follow leaders.
he makes it up for himself according to other instructions he received being perhaps deceived.
he doesn’t know nothing.
watch out.
he is one who we are advised not to be.
he is one we are advised we should avoid.
so what’s to be done with him now?
everything is a mystery to him as it stands now if only there was anything he feels he can count on seeing him through it but there appears to be nothing tangible he is able to determine being as dimwitted as he is now and again.
while others chase what seems to them holy he watches and waits perhaps a bit too long for it to be of any useful purpose to him or another stepping into a machine of dreaming dreams forever unless stopped by reasonable doubt coming from within he doesn’t always understand how or why.
why not?
that is the question that is the answer.
why the fuck not?
he has no answer for it.
the answer is a riddle.
is it a joke?
digging a hole deeper and deeper he doesn’t know what else to do but radiate a vibration of himself into the chaotic noise surrounding him along with billions of other souls lost to the world as it should never be but we cause with our own actions of selfish greed in the pursuit of happiness without hope of attaining it by any means necessary for our development toward yonder higher planes of existence held out for us to strive to achieve.
he sits and thinks and sometimes he just sits.
blank staring beyond the void into radiating images of the one and many he feels he understands but it gives him nothing of any value ($$$) in this world to save him from himself broken down to the point of no deposit no return while poets sing of love.
gfvbhnnnb.
he loves his blue neptune home sweet home.
a gas bag floating self-sufficient free to mingle or not.
naked and unafraid.
kidnapped by space pirates and forced here in this world against his will.
that’s his story and he’s sticking to it.
this heavy world.
easy flights of fancy into dreamtime reality.
he makes tea and english muffin with peanut butter.
a cigarette.
wandering scattered mind.
the middle of doubt.
broken radio head unable to receive the broadcasts.
still trapped within the mind’s ego vehicle transport machine.
alienated alone in this world of billions.
the absurd universe.
he chuckles.
the fat black cat sits behind the computer screen in the sun.
the mail person comes and goes as do others.
sunny day amid the rain.
activity in the park.
people.
none he could count on in a fix.
the state is his only friend.
long may it wave.
all the cracks in the wall.
infestation of living life growing through.
constant changing configurations of reality.
when suddenly nothing happens.
abgob, unholy into dimensional reflections of itself toward unpromised lands left to choose discovering rivers filled with eat prana instant flesh of heavenly host proudly wavering trembling before reconciled ambitions.
he feels himself part of the universal love machine networked around the world making rah rah rah sideways integrated in with our theory of everything.
when thought vanishes and a new world appears into view.
dead carcass covered with flies in the sunshine of our love.
not as it may seem spastic delays in the control room where discussions take place about waves of tears washing away our special sorrows dear to us leaving us alone again with our instinct to survive.
bogba, aloof master order holy lord forthwith to be for us in struggles against ourselves hereafter.
wait while the mission resolves itself in accordance of divine plans.
hotcha.
we are on a mission from god almighty absolute lord of the universe and worlds below.
it’s secret.
we do not know ourselves.
we receive and follow instructions like everyone else.
what game is being played?
what shenanigans?
we step outside a moment or if 6 was 9.

[untitled]

doctor.
driven on by our madness thinking about everything.
1 > infinity.
think about that being true for the moment.
is it?
is it not?
he burps.
to continue at a point at which when a function takes an infinite value especially in spacetime when matter is infinitely dense.
computation of events that may or may not have happened for real but in thin disguise of an ideal set in our thinking and imagination.
the ideal of it.
it can be anything.
down to 0.
from 0 to 1 in eternity.
he catches glimpses of what it must be like.
comprehension flashing in his mind.
ghosts in the rearview mirror.
everything under special circumstances according to certain given parameters programmed into the simulation machine.
an infinitely dense plenum of dead nothingness brought to life by vibrations of energy rendering it into everything that can be possible including that which is only possible being impossible.
something impossible is something.
we bend possibility to the shape of our thinking will.
we discover the limits of it “before” it becomes impossible.
just following orders.
the mandate of heaven.
bend over and salute.
he is tired.
he sleeps.

guided through realizations toward a possible state of enlightenment in our heads outta our minds.
we perceive other worlds of our fancy.
are they real?
do they need to be?
how do we judge when we are not in agreement about what reality is anyway?
reality is as it is perceived to be.
he eats some slightly stale cheez-its.
he doubts that he understands.
why should he?
it doesn’t matter in this world if anyone understands.
it only matters if we can make $$$ or not.
$$$ gives things meaning.
fuck the absurd universe.
everything has meaning we give it.
who is to tell us otherwise besides know it all wise guys?
fuck them.
to hold an object in our hand.
to call it a rock.
what other meaning does it need to have?
we have convoluted abstract metaphorical meanings beyond that which are arbitrary.
poetic license.
we think too much.
the search for some ultimate meaning to everything.
everything just is.
it is it.
the flashes of comprehension continue in his head bringing him to new understanding.
perceiving things he has no words for he can barely think about.
he understands through gazorbnik.
gazorbniking as guru jeff taught us to gazorbnik.
triggering the unconscious power of non-linear propulsion.
what has meaning for himself and no other understands.
the synchronistic syncopation of synthesizing synergy.
the process of metaschizophrenic science.
the madness.
to be entirely open to it at the risk of going insane.
but if we are insane to begin with then what’s the big deal?
to come to a realization how much he fucked up his life.
given chances he did not take that might have led him into different directions to different destinations.
oh well.
so much for that.
he followed pathless paths to their own conclusions.
to the conclusion that there are no conclusions.
none he can fathom.
everything comes and goes on and on.
endless waves on a beach.
mesmerizing.
he returns to the world still the same as it appeared before though he knows better.
it is constantly changing.
the shimmering of light and shadow.
he feels he may have all the pieces he needs but is unsure how they might go together.
he is an idiot that way.
he farts.
he is frightened and timid.
he hopes for the best and expects the worst.
everything falls somewhere in-between.
it’s all too confusing.
he finds his own place in it for himself.
to do his own thing.
to make it up for himself.
to maintain his individuality throughout for whatever that might be worth.
he is allergic to the collective mind groupthink thing.
he breaks out in the heebee jeebees.
people make him insane.
that is the only way they can tolerate his kind for us to be insane.
but what kind is his kind?
he is alone it would seem to him.
vague notions in his head of dreams.
nothing definitive.
powerless against the others who have taken over the world.
they have successfully claimed it as their world to do as they please with it for their own gain – $$$.
the rest of us are to know our place.
he is visiting here to observe and report to the committee.
he sleeps.

he wakes and makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
more monkey business.
it’s all games.
he’s never liked games and their competitiveness one against the others.
he never knew this is life.
victory and defeat.
those above and those below.
and that whole mind set thing.
he liked being relaxed taking it easy.
time to think and dream.
they don’t care for dreamers much.
they make that very clear.
shock them out of it.
get to work.
be productive.
make us some $$$.
there must be another way for us to live our lives.
but this one is locked in place and nothing’ll budge it.
it has pushed everything else out of the way or assimilated it.
we cannot defend ourselves against it.
if we do we become like them.
if your aim is to conquer and dominate the earth then they have it down.
the perfect machine.
we all work for the machine.
no one thinks to unplug the damn thing.
unplug it from our minds where it gets its source of energy.
it runs on our belief in it and its power.
we bow to it.
he is done with it as much as he can be.
he still needs $$$ to go to the company store for supplies.
it is fortunate he is provided with some for nothing but staying outta the way and not cause trouble.
the gods protect fools.
the same thing over and over each day.
a rat in a maze.
but we transcend that noise.
we circumvent it as we are able but it is everywhere.
we cannot live in this world and not be part of it.
we are all part of the problem.
our individual greed combined into collective greed.
the masses wanting more more more.
the elite at the top wanting all all all.
and so on.
what do we want our reality to be?
what do we cause our reality to be?
pita and hummus.
another cigarette.
an earth-like planet is supposedly discovered.
let’s go conquer it.
“employ” the inhabitants and grab all their resources.
think of the $$$ we’ll make.
before they do it to us.
unless they already have (?).
the explanation is /// not clear.
it never is.
it is never intended to be but to raise more questions than answers.
to believe in some literal truth unchanging through all seasons.
what in the whole universe is that?
an idealized myth passed on through the generations people unquestioningly believe.
even science is not untouched by it.
they operate on the same principle seeking to discover where it may be hidden.
change is unchanging.
everything remains the same – or similar enough to itself in flux.
the world is melting before our eyes once we learn to perceive.
this moment is unique never to be repeated.
but a close approximation to it follows in the next.
flowing river to the sea.
Y|Y|Y|Y|Y|Y|Y|Y|Y|Y|Y|
positive thoughts.
surf’s up.
ride the cosmic waves to destinations unknown.
this is living life for whatever that might be worth.
it is glorious.
he tries to believe but he is always filled with doubt.
but doubt is good, isn’t it?
until we become paralyzed by it maybe.
he doubts everything.
he does not know what to choose.
he lets it ride.
he burns his thumb lighting up the peace pipe.
he scrubs the bathtub.
he is trying to enjoy the day with whatever and whatnot.
an aging hippie walks down the street.
there’s a few of them in the park.
0

1
he wonders silly things about everything.
a black swan swimming gently along across a mirror pond trailing rippling wake.
creating sustaining destroying – transforming.
it wills itself into existence.
why not?
existing without beginning nor end.
it continues here now.
was is will be.
someone mowing their lawn.
weird world yet it makes a kinda irrationalogic sense if we choose to think that way or choose to use rationalogic to make sense of it.
or something somewhere down the middle.
or something like that and then some and so on.
monkey in the middle where everything gets mixed up.
a cup of tea.
mean mr. mustard.
time frame reflex underling frothing mind.
dimwit dogmatic darling dada doo-doo.
salò salamander.
discrete distinctions surmised by the diabolical heavenly host as sirens pierce the aire.
another cigarette.
a trembling hand.
teeth clenched grin.
spin, baby, spin.
hold on.
let it ride.
this is our chosen random fate.
ah-choo.
flummoxed florescent fidgeting fearless flocks of fools bound for glory as rainbows guide their way.
a toke.
coughing hacking.
being here now.
with everything everywhere everywhen everyone possible.
so happy together.

damnation salvation tickling our bones.
this is what it is like to be this way.
we take it as it comes.
making spaghetti.
his brain is spaghetti twisted tangled noodles.
butter and garlic and parmesan.
another cigarette.
he eats and sleeps.

1 > infinity.