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…

the isolating assembly walks around the withdrawn thirst

too much camouflage?
this neverending nonsense continues.
a not poem about our theory of everything he imagines he is writing.
nothing is forbidden, everything is permitted.
do what thou wilt.
good luck.

it is it.
this is truth in a mustard seed.
diamond dust.
snot rag.
banana up the wazoo.
rug.
ashtray.
when a spoon is not a spoon.
then, there it is.
a spoon changing with the moment.
a spoon changing with everything changing.
hoopla oink oink.
another cigarette while he thinks dirty thoughts.
what to do with a spoon while skating on thin ice around around keeping it moving.
that’s what the universe does, doesn’t it?
sure, why not?

everything is metaphor yet there are those among us who feel compelled to believe in its literal truth.
we may be idiots but we’re not stupid.
we understand something, though what it might be is something else.
such is the way of it.
the way of the pathless paths which is the only way to follow.
join us.
pay us $$$ to belong.
get a piece of the action.

that’s how it’s done.
that’s the scam scheme.
but we’re too lazy to put anything like that together.
it’s too much like work and responsibility.

being god must sure be boring to need to imagine this world to be for its amusement as seen on tv or whatever other reality simulation technology it has.
doesn’t god have better things to do?
apparently not from what we can tell about whatever the situation might be with it.
but here god is among us as we bicker and fight despite threats against us and our eternal souls or promises of reward if we are well-behaved.
we just like making shit up about whatever might strike our fancy as being truth.
as we ourselves haven’t been as interested in truth in its absolute sense others seem to have been concerned about to prove once and for all beyond every doubt settling all questions.
we sing and dance with god.
we fall down with god.
we laugh with god.
we generally fuck around with god.
a mad god we found laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
what good is a god we can’t fuck around with?
what’s the point?
let others take it seriously and fight wars about it.
god is our delight.
but god who?
god that is no god.
no god the others worship.
we worship no god.
no god answers all our prayers – often with answers we do not expect nor perhaps much care for and are usually a riddle.
no god makes us think.
no god makes us stink with amazed wonder at everything.
we work it around this way or that way or the other way to imagine how it might enlighten us for the moment.
shrinking time debutante.
just a coincidence perhaps.
synchronicity of meaning.
the diabolical twist.
another cigarette.
a report to the committee written as a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet.
he should know it.
and he does know it.
the it that is.
it is it.
guided along the way by secret signals only he could detect.
or is that his madness?
what’s the difference?
madness is only a social construct.
there’s no such thing.
he is inspired by the devil’s divine plan.
some fettuccine alfredo.
thick as a brick in the wall.
minds cast adrift in dreams.
mountainous rolling waves from something troubled far below.
born into another reality.
another reality of pain and suffering which is what the universe seems to be about.
but to overcome into bliss of joy and sorrow like sweet and sour.
this is what madness brings.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
we live on the sides of a spinning globe.
there is no true up or down or any direction at all.
exit stage left.
please leave your name and phone number where you can be reached.
writing out what comes to mind for whatever reason relevant or not.
our theory of everything that begins with no beginning.
a continuous event from infinity to infinity.
yet though we might imagine it we cannot perceive infinity.
we perceive the finite.
waves of binary bits of data transmitting receiving processing.
the brain as holodeck.
reality simulation machine thing.
reality simulation machine being.
the best and worst of all possible worlds.
our delight and disgust in all of it  – as it should be.
everything having a place and everything in its place in an ordered universe.
pay attention.
where there’s a will there’s a way.
look at the success others have made of themselves.
count our blessings we are not among them.
our blessings so often with a curse.
we have made a success of failure.
the failure of their indoctrination to take effect upon us to make us into good productive citizens.
we found other ways and means around it.
and we were fortunate.
fate has its major role in events we perceive as good or evil relative to ourselves and our wellbeing.
everything seems to be for us or against us.
for all yin there is yang.
for all yang there is yin.
action/reaction.
non-action.
lazy afternoon.
grilled pepper jack cheese sandwich.
a ginger ale.
a cigarette.
no diligent discipline.
no tuning of the instrument to perceive other worlds – godhead.
just to imagine being.
being i am.
being it.
coughing up a mouthful of phlegm.
in the act of dying.
experiencing ordinary everyday mortal life without magick powers and such.
a passing amusement.
we marvel at the sensations of this world in wild confusion until we learn to order it such that it is useful to us.
it’s all too much for us to take.
we might theorize that the universe is absurd but nothing can be absolutely proven.
it certainly cannot be proven to make $$$ aside from selling some books.
can something make $$$ being the highest order of proof there is.
we make $$$ being mad.
we make $$$ for the people employed and charged with maintaining us.
other than that we are useless.
this is the best job we’ve had.
so the plenum of infinitely dense solid matter.
but matter doesn’t exist.
a plenum of nothingness ignited into being by waves of cosmic energy radiating from everything everywhere everywhen.
the omnipresent divine light and shadow giving life to the universe projected into our brains – yet our brains exist in the universe.
the answer is a riddle.
the finite within the infinite.
the infinite within the finite.
1 > infinity.
fit it this way and/or that way and/or the other way and so on.
origami.
bonsai.
zen geometry of mindscapes.
our theory of everything as flip book animation.
don’t blink.
we refuse to take everything seriously.
we resist all attempts to get us to do so.
we are those errant children.
this is what’s become of us.
a buncha bums living on what’s left of easy street.
long live the revolution.

—————–
come on, it’s such a joy.

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.

kiss the sky

he sleeps.
he wakes up.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
the routine.
he imagines himself before the computer hunched over the keyboard typing out a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet about our theory of everything gone amok with itself.
SNAFU.
as much as it changes it remains the same.
he gazes out the window.
ain’t nothing happening but everything as the light and shadow play across it exciting energies released for the eye to behold.
but is it what it appears to be?
what does it appear to be?
solid and real.
we are told by the wise guys that it is not.
we slap them across the face to reply.
their security guards take us away to the door.
all is calm once more.
everything at peace as it should be.
the anxious nervous laughter subsides into tranquil repose as the crowd is reassured.
we wander away from that scene.
we know when we’re not wanted.
outcasts each alone to ourselves in this wasteland of human degradation.
looking for intelligent life.
watching and waiting.
we are here to observe.
the fat black cat perches on the back of the chair.
he makes an english muffin with orange marmalade.
let us prey.
he lights a cigarette.
he loosely pays attention to the news of the day everyone else is so excited about that it leaks through to his awareness on social network memes and headline emails and such.
hooray for our side.
he couldn’t care less.
he understands what little of it means.
people insanely argue expecting different results.
it amuses him though he recognizes that these people are dangerous to the wellbeing of others.
the babbling of the mob that could get an idea in their heads about actually doing something about their passionate political plight.
look out.
just one spark.
the kindling is ready.
let this fire burn away the night to bring us to a new dawn.
as if.
meet the new boss.
no one likes being told what to do but few of us do anything unless we are told what to do.
few have the self-initiative to explore through their own mind to feel out what they might want to create instead of helping to create more of this self-destructive world.
inaction is the best action/reaction.
be still.
do not be moved one way or another.
let them pass us by on their way to the eternal promised land.
we have ours and we’re gonna eat it too.
let them eat cake.
he was such a foolish youth.
now he is a foolish old man but without regrets but thanks for whatever helped him along the way to keep to his mission to participate as little as possible in this circus playing itself out around him.
all in his head whatever he wanted to be.
for him to imagine is enough.
it’s all fading into oblivion anyway.
who cares if it is real or not?
to be wandering through the world at large without fear but confidence.
weaponless.
taking only what we need instead of collecting hoards of stuff useless to anyone but to those who pride themselves on possession.
working magick.

look, a squirrel!

he pets the kitty.
good luck fat black cat.
he thinks about everything.
what a drag it would be knowing everything.
he doubts anything actually does.
but perhaps so.
if everything is everything it would include something that does know everything, right?
that seems reasonable, or not.
whatever it might be he’s glad he’s not it.
what else would there be to do without unfolding mysteries?
whatever he knows or does not know is what it is.
if it comes to mind or not he has little to no control over.
he watches and waits.
something should begin making some sorta sense, right?
isn’t that how it goes?
or is that another story told to children who aren’t ready for truth?
the truth being absurd – without meaning.
under certain conditions what goes up must come down.
that is what is but is not what it means.
it means nothing.
we place meaning on it.
and la-dee-da and all that jazz and so on.

trying to make it or trying to fake it.
whatever we might get away with.
he makes it by faking it.
the chances he didn’t take.
the different person he might have become for better or worse.
he could be close to enlightenment by now instead of sinking into this quicksand of ignorance.
but maybe he might be anyway.
he doesn’t know.
do we ever know if and when we are enlightened?
he doubts it.
enlightenment is a process not an event.
but enlightened about what?
reality?
there is no reality.
truth?
there is no truth.
self?
there is no self.
nor is there anything.
there’s nothing but nothing – no-thing.
a void of infinity never beginning nor ending.
continuing through potential possibilities.
and the wise guys tell us of the beginning like a great cumshot of everything into existence at once according to their rationalogic calculations.
perhaps.
the wise guys love telling us their ideas.
that’s what they get paid for.
they are not to question the task set before them.
they are to obey its commands.
this is true the same with everyone.
a bum or a CEO.
what difference does it make?
none to us.
we perceive through the veils of illusion to reality.
it’s not a pretty sight.
truth is a pie in the face.
we look like fools who did not see it coming.
we perform onstage at the burning theater.
the audience halfheartedly approves of our antics with a smattering of laughter.
what else are we here for?

we do not concern ourselves about that.
we are here.
that’s all there is to it.
we are tired of wise guys telling us we ought to be someplace else.
then what are they doing here themselves?
go away.
they constantly remind us of the error of our ways.
judgmental fucks.
they always know better than the rest of us with their holy truth they are here to deliver.
$$$.
the better world is before us around us.
welcome to paradise.
forget for the moment that it is not what you were expecting.
relax and dig it.

another toke.
another cigarette.
he gets by.
he doesn’t know how or why.
fools are protected by the gods.
he knows nothing much about anything and what he does know about is only rudimentary knowledge of it at best.
he hasn’t been paying attention.
he’s been dreaming.
his dreams are beginning to catch up with him.
he is living in a world he once envisioned.
when the mind shift/ship came to mind to rescue him from his head about to explode its lid off like a pressure cooker.
acid daze.
walking through the ruins.
watching and waiting.
what next?

and everything else that comes to mind that he is able to sorta understand somewhat maybe.
thoughts like a cloud of mosquitos in his brain firing all sorts of data flashing electrochemical-magnetic aura thing glowing.
and he feels how out of condition he is to be able to perceive many of whatever transmissions he is receiving.
instructions?
the voices are legion clamoring to be heard among all the others the same.
a white pickup truck rolls down the street to exit the park.
goodbye.

he does not know if there is truth or not.
if there is he does not seem to know what it is.
will he ever?
should he be concerned about that?
he keeps it under his hat.
and truth and not truth are included in with our theory of everything as potential possibilities of duality continuum groove thing.
but there will be those who argue about them day and night.
the dead philosophers society.
the cloven-hooved devils dancing on heads of pins.
now is virtual techno-media truth.
a battle between all duality against itself in extreme opposites each believing it might be without the other.
to the death of everything.
the birth of nothing.

the continual stream of consciousness he fishes in.
he imagines this is heaven as he casts out his net.
he wonders when precisely a stream becomes a river.
what is a rain drop in a hurricane?
so we should rather be the hurricane instead of the rain drop?
how come?
what is the difference between the two?
why should we favor being one over the other?
becuz the wise guys tell us it is better to be big than to be small.
and we fall for it not knowing any better being common idiots like we are.
a young man runs down the street.
maybe to catch a bus.

people watch.
no agenda.
observe.
study.
report.

killing time while in this world with time to kill.
not much to it really.
we learn to play a part directed by fate.
fit in.
adapt.
survive.
everyone born living dying.
learning the tricks of the trade along the way on pathless paths of destiny unfolding itself outta our minds revealing secret mysteries for the few and far between to understand.
are we not them?

we all are them.
who is not them?
the great almighty those of us who will tolerate no others.
those who have managed to take over the world from the beginning – whenever that may have been.
working their magick on cave walls.
they sing and dance.
they fall down.
they laugh.
we are them.

humanity in perpetual defiance of the gods.
humanity in perpetual defiance of itself.
bringing down the sacred idols.
smashing through the maze of mirrors.
seeking the gods at every turn.
the bitter disappointment when it is revealed there are none but our imagining being.
or not.

hanging in the middle of doubt.
doesn’t matter what truths they preach cuz it’s all just outta our reach.
a hot dog.
another toke.
silver-tongued serpents singing for their supper onstage at the burning theater.
front row center balcony wearing our fool’s crown.
we laugh and laugh to our heart’s content.
then taken out and shot.

it was fun while it lasted.
oh boy.
now what?

heaven or hell or another life on earth?
spin the wheels one more time.
what could be more fun?
that’s one of the problems we have with all the ideas of paradise whatever it might be for whoever.
none of it sounds like much fun to us as blissful as it might be.
we fail to see the attraction.
if it is so much fun then why waste our time with living in this world?
we don’t get it.
something doesn’t quite add up.

but that’s not as important as the fact that the wise guys have something to sell.
and people buy into it willingly and wholeheartedly.
hook, line and sinker.
all we have come to know about such things is that it seems incredibly boring being in some sorta eternal bliss state thing whatever.
yes, there may be some immortal being within us.
hooray.
what is that to us in this world?
how much $$$ can it make?
it makes plenty of $$$ for the wise guys who have figured out how to market it for the masses to consume.
the same for all the priests of all the sundry philosophies they have invented like brands of toothpaste telling us we cannot live without it.
and we are suckers born every minute.
fresh off the turnip truck.
they can see us coming a mile away.
the dumb innocent look on our slaphappy faces.
until they introduce guilt and shame making us feel less than anything unless we buy their products.
and it may represent something real.
if so then why do we lack it?
it is somehow our fault that we are born defective with something missing from ourselves?
fuck that shit, baby.
it’s all a part of the game they play at being the heroes who save the day.
how can there be heroes if there are not victims?
are we to adore the ones who created us as victims for their own glorification?
the more he thinks about everything the more absurd it becomes.
he cannot believe it is set up this way.
what a cosmic scam.
and we’re the marks.
oh boy.
but as long as there are still those of us who fall for it then why should it not continue?
he sees no hope for humanity – ever.
the wheels keep turning feeding the machine of their enterprise.
and he doesn’t like it one bit.
nope.

but what’s he gonna do about it?
hahaha.

he lights another cigarette.
he enjoys what he can of his present life.
the next one’s probably gonna be worse if what the wise guys tell us is true for those who refuse to cooperate.
a world of deeper ignorance and suffering and misery.
they’ll break him yet.
and when they do they’ll be proven correct.
they’ll get a gold star in heaven.
oh boy.

it’s him against them.
all of them.
a world of them.
a universe of them.
what a life when it could be so easy.
but their way is as it is and nothing’s gonna change it.
it is eternal absolute resistant to change.
it’s their way or the highway, baby.
he starts walking though there is nowhere (now here) to go.
they have him trapped like a fly in a bottle.
he can count on nothing.
he knows of nothing that isn’t part of their schemes.
he watches and waits.
something will come along – or not.
probably not.
spin the wheels.
maybe he’ll win the jackpot though the odds are infinitely against him.
maybe he’ll get a gold star.
oh boy.

the great holy/unholy hierarchical infrastructure of ascending levels of asskissers from the darkest oblivion to the pure light of godhead sickens him.
it twists and turns  in his gut.
it twists and turns in his brain.
there must be something else but he can’t think of what it might be if anything at all.
he’s tried to think of everything he could imagine being to think about.
he obviously missed something along the way not paying attention as usual in his dreaming far away within himself where when there is no concern nor worry as if in a garden on an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
the storm is greed and all that comes with it.
the eye is the balance of all duality being equal.
the island is the mind and imagination.
the garden is the self where when it comes to itself.
then there is the tree of life we sit beneath.
we partake of its fruit.
we spin the wheels one more time.

nothing is a miracle or everything is a miracle.
we decide how to perceive it.
leftover chicken curry.
hot – exciting to the senses.
makes his nose run and eyes tear.
this is not advised by the wise guys.
nothing he does is advised by the wise guys besides as an example how not to live one’s life.

to live our lives in ignorance of their lies and deceit.
we sought knowing but everywhere we turned to was the same story of the power elite controlling everything.
we were left to our own resources and devices which were severely limited and questionable.
we led ourselves astray perhaps but at least we tried.
or we were just too lazy.
we couldn’t care less.
why should there be concern about anything?
so we live our careless lives allowing fate to call the tune as it will.
we choose not to choose.
but everything is a choice.
we seem to have consistently chosen wrong.
it has to be somebody, why not us?
exactly.

a drab life of ceaseless competition.
struggling to survive.
the gods happily know nothing of this.
they reign serene and content in their power supreme.
who wouldn’t?

to go away and not come back again.
not as human.
not as god.
not as anything.
nothing.
not the salvation of heaven.
not the damnation of hell.
nothing.
to forget forever.

to watch and wait for the world to disappear and never return taking the whole of the universe with it.
everything gone.
ourselves gone.

he does not want to be awakened for anything.
not another life.
not godhead.
nothing.
leave him be.
he gives nothing permission to fuck with him ever again.
either his self-authority means something or it doesn’t.
we shall see what these fuckers respect and what they do not.

where’s the party at?

überavatars.
the boss of ethereal celestial realms.
the champions of enlightenment.
hooray for them.
but it’s the same old monkey shit to him.
hierarchical order of the universe just as it is in this world of apes driven by primal instinct which isn’t saying much about how enlightened they are.
fuck that shit.
just shut up and follow orders.
be humble.
be subservient.
he’d rather die as ignorant as he was born than to give in to their holy schemes of regulated restricted salvation.
an eternity in hell before he’ll set one foot within their exclusive heaven.
what is this shit?
are they for fucking real?
he believes they think so.
but they have the $$$ which gives them the power so there’s no argument against that.
we’re just dumb fucks who know nothing  and are easily and routinely dismissed.
we are to beseech and beg them for tidbits of their supposed wisdom they answer with riddles.
are we dogs?
we are treated as such.
while they laugh in delightful bliss of their self-absorbed godhead.
fuck them all.
die.

so we are lost and damned by their grace they withhold from us until we learn to behave ourselves.
the same story as always.
is it our problem they can’t handle our wild freedom?
they make no provision for anyone like ourselves but to cast us out of their palace ashrams they live in luxury and leisure of their sublime state.
time to turn them on their heads.
time to remove their heads.
time to hang them high.
time for them to go.

another toke.
another cigarette.
he’s hungry but there’s nothing he wants to eat.
he is tired.
he is burnt out.
he is fed up with this bullshit going on throughout the cosmos it would seem.
is there any world of justice for the disenfranchised and abandoned?
who holds these clowns accountable for their crimes?
greedy fucking pigs all of them.
everywhere.
there’s no getting away from them.
they have claimed everything as their own and have the power to enforce it.
there is nothing left for the rest of us but suffering and misery which they seem to be more than ok with.
it gives them the ego pleasure to be our saviors – for $$$.
all their words are lies.
look at them parade themselves around in fine spun robes of mock humility.
it sickens him to see it.
it should sicken anyone.
but they have it arranged and rigged so we can do nothing about it.
they are closely guarded and protected from any harm by us.
they lord themselves above and scoff at us and our foolishness.
is it foolishness to want what they hold back what they have stolen from us unless we perform tricks for it?
apparently so according to them.
they have the final word.
we are silenced.
we are bound and gagged.

he will have none of it.
he will express what he will no matter how they devise to punish him for his disobedience and insubordination and disrespect.
he will not obey them.
he will not submit to them.
he has no respect for them.
it is them who own that to him.
it is them who own that to everyone they have mistreated for all of time and continue still.
what a bunch of pompous assholes.
what a set up this whole thing is.
it is designed to make them look good compared to us who they keep down for that purpose.
how can anyone be rich unless there are those who are poor?
how can anyone be blessed unless there are those who are cursed?
get the picture?

he comes to understanding.
he understands that we’ve been had from the very start.
it was the plan all along from the beginning.
and not just in this world but all throughout the universe and beyond.
it pollutes everything everywhere everywhen with its disease.
none of us is unaffected – uninfected.
we are born into it and nurtured in it.
it is our very selves.

but meanwhile back in the world he gazes out the window at not much really going on except the occasional person walking or driving by.
he is stuck here.
what is he to do?
can he trust anything?
can he trust what he is thinking?
trust it for what?
truth?
reality?
absurdity?
gazorbnik?
himself?

himself as what?
what as himself?
that i am thing?
that can mean anything as much as he knows.
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
he can’t shake it.
he can barely fake it.
he just has to take it.
or maybe make it into something else instead.
some fantasy world to make believe reality and even truth if we choose.
we let happenstance choose for us.
let’s be surprised.
and surprised we are.
who would ever imagine such things on our own?
what the fuck?

fuming with bad caca energy.
altering his perceptions of what is what.
but that is what happens when one realizes one has been had.
had by who?
who in their right minds, not their minds they think and believe are right.
might makes right.
while we endure their reign under their almighty gods.

and the computer crashes.
he has some difficulty getting it running again.
is this a joke?
we laugh at ourselves being played the fool once more by these ultra-powerful beings who have nothing else to do but create creatures to torment as it amuses them.
but those who willing submit to the gods in order to be granted favors are those who give them their power.
it is through their imagination the gods are born and receive substance and their immortality.
kill the fuckers now.
kill them with our minds.
kill them with whatever we might muster in our aid of resistance.
and all those in league with them here in this world.

but this is a useless call.
no one is interested numbed by the banal pleasures of this world created for us to wallow in.
we are alone each to ourselves.
we are few and far between.
we are mad.
we are idiots.
mad idiots.
doomed to oblivion once their perfect heaven world is set in place.
all glory to the victors.
may their names be praised for all eternity.

the simple primal ape thinking this entails but is found in the stories of gods throughout the world.
the worship of the strong alpha god king of the hill.
do not lift your head or it shall smite you.
we walk away.
we will take oblivion.

and we are to plead and pray to share in this god’s bounty.
we are to not only submit but to deny ourselves to receive its mercy bestowed upon us.
all we are as we know ourselves for nothing.
this world left in ruin for nothing.
everything for nothing.
because we dare to stand defiant.
that must never be allowed.
read the good books and the message is the same.
all hail the great almighty oz.
pay no attention to what goes on behind the curtain.
we will see a frail frightened thing jerking itself off wired into a great machine that rumbles and shakes.
step on it before it gets away.
put it out of its misery.
we will put ourselves out of our misery in the process.
no one will wear a crown before us or we shall smite them.
and it goes on and on.
meet the new boss.

we are tired of this noise and games of the others and the gods they worship – even if it is no god it is still the same ideal of worshipping the almighty something or other blah blah blah monkey shit.
they will never change their minds.
why should that even be an issue?  – besides that they make it one by being greedy fuckers and destroying the earth we live on that has now become a worldwide slave encampment work farm.
the earth we lived on freely that richly provided for us as we are, not as what we are supposed to be.
but those days are gone.
we live with what is now.

he lives what he imagines to be.
a stupid ape on a planet of apes.
he can’t get that outta his head cuz it is his head.
it shapes his mind and every thought he thinks he thinks.
it tells him what to believe.
and he is to be judged by this?
fuck that.

where’s the party at?

so, in continuation…

coffee.
toke.
cigarette.
he fucked up.
everything he knows is wrong.
everyone tells him so.
he’s always the last to know.
he ties to ignore it but it won’t go away.
he doesn’t wanna think about it.
what’s to think about it?
what or who should he trust?
he’s told to trust himself.
should he trust that?
what about himself should he trust?
which of the voices in his head should he listen to?
what does he know in and of himself that hasn’t originated from an external source?
it’s fucked up and all turned around.
no wonder the mystics seek to turn off the mind and find bliss.
he would too if he weren’t so lazy to dedicate himself to a life of discipline.
now he can only imagine.
can he trust his imagination?
it is of his own origin.
it is of himself enough to be himself.
did he imagine himself into existence?
himself and this world in a solipsistic simulated paradise of adventure.
perhaps.
when he dies soon he may find out.
but that is another dream humans have that in death we finally discover what it’s all about.
he imagines that as well but expects nothing more than utter oblivion.
not to worry.
he won’t exist, so what’s to worry about that?
if he feels anything it would be disappointment.
fuck.

meanwhile back in the real world he imagines himself sitting before the computer hunched over the keyboard typing out nonsense about nothing about our theory of everything as a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet on and on.
somewhere in all of this may be further clues but for now this moment he is clueless.
his head awhirl with thinking feeling processing data bits in waves of experience as it comes in through the senses and imagination washing over his mind.
or something like that.

this world all seems to be some sorta competitive contest of who wins and who loses.
he was never much interested in playing that game.
he isn’t very good about it and ends up the loser on the losing team of misfits and blunderheads and idiots, etc.
freaks of all types.
time was we were hidden away outta sight outta mind.
time was we were eliminated.
and so we invent our own ways around to it.
it is instinctive to seek understanding of everything.
to seek meaning in meaninglessness.
is meaning there or do we only project it out from ourselves?
how much of it should we trust?
jacob’s ladder on acid.

finding a moment to be here now.
to carry it with you everywhere everywhen you go.
to be calm and observant.
take it slow and cool.
to light another cigarette.

to feel the earth deep beneath the city pavement.
to feel it rising to the surface.
to feel living life.
he has always imagined a world of decaying dead artifacts of our civilization overgrown with life.
and bands of humans hunting gathering among them.
he envisioned the forests growing where once mown lawns had been.
and so on.

he’s really dumb a lot of the time.
isn’t paying much attention.
in a dreaming state of mind.
dreaming about his bundle of joy.

if it is a dream he will accept that if he is the dreamer.
who else?
should he be one of a cast of billions in another’s dream?
perhaps – if he dreams that is how it should be then that is how it is.
or not.

or we are all dreamers weaving a common dream world into a shared reality we experience alone together.
so, where do the dreamers come from except perhaps have always been dreaming for so long none can remember it ever beginning?
it has always been.
we have always been.
we awaken to ourselves.
be careful.
it may not be such a pretty sight to behold.
who knows?

the mystic masters will tell us that they know and tell us stories of eternal bliss consciousness and all that jazz.
do we trust them?
how come?
they could be telling us what we want to hear.
think about it.
it’s probably a scam from the word go.
it’s worked for 1000s of years so why should it not continue to do so for a 1000 more?
he needs to experience it to believe it – and he would doubt it even then.
why not?

and he doesn’t accept this idea that it is only for those privileged few who manage to struggle to find it.
what kinda bullshit is that?
if it exists it should be our given nature not something we need to fucking earn and pay for.
fuck that shit.

he imagines it is our given nature but that being in this world governed by others corrupts it into something else a bit less desirable.
our desires and fears bring us to this world to play them out in fabulous titillating stimulation.
the muck of a world that brings forth the lotus blossom floating on the surface of a pond of tranquility.
or something like that.

but here we are in this muck world like it or not.
the unenlightened ignorant idiots.
billions of us.
stupid.
unaware that there is anything odd going on at all.
get up and go to work.
get up and go to play.
get up and go to sleep with all the racket going on from those who know truth trying to wake us up with their alarm and excitement.
asleep and dreaming.

and this world could be an illusion covering over just about most anything we might imagine.
he gets befuddled thinking about it.
so he doesn’t much think about it – not seriously anyway.
that shit’ll drive you mad.
illusion within illusion within illusion.
it’s fun to speculate about though if you might wanna play a game with yourself.
take it for a spin around the block.
see how it fits.

he does realize that he is on his own in this wilderness.
himself and his imagination.
his imaginary friends.
his imaginary self.
whatever.
alone in a maze of mirrors reflecting images seemingly to infinity and beyond.
as if.
alone on an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
if there is any such thing.

he thinks about it.
what little he knows about it
he thinks about it this way and that way and the other way.
he thinks about it all the ways he can think of to think about it.
everything seems to lead him to solipsism.
bah.
he does not accept that.
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
baloney.
he doubts it.
but what else is it?
who might be able to prove to him that they exist?
how?
punch him in the nose?
he’ll only bleed imaginary blood and feel imaginary pain.
perhaps.
or not.

he is not really that aloof as the others tell him he should be.
he clings to this world for dear life.
it is the only life he knows – having perhaps forgotten any other.

it comes and goes.
waves and the tides and the moon.
and the concrete cities washing away.
whatever.

he is done with space and time.
what a drag.
how confining.
he seeks everything everywhere everywhen and will be satisfied with nothing less.
and he gazes out and sees that it is all here now as much as can be perceived in this world.
he sees light and shadow and all other forms of duality there need be to create such a realistic illusion that it is confused with reality itself perhaps.
or not.
a world of pain and anguish and suffering and misery.
a world of abused sick starving neglected children of all ages.
all of us.
and it’s all our fault.
we are in error and must be corrected.
rejects from the perfect machine.
he laughs at that.

pacing in a cage.
back and forth over and over.
no way out.
even death may not be escape – but it is perhaps worth a try at some point.
the point of no return.
maybe later.
it’s coming of its own accord anyway.
suicide by cigarette.

where are the bright happy thoughts he should be thinking?
but he has always been of dark foreboding mind.
anything can happen at any time as he has learned.
happiness is carelessness.
watch out.

so, in conclusion – though there is never any conclusion but goes on and on and so on.
so, in continuation…

???

hahaha

psychotic fugue state mumbo jumbo hotcha daddy dada groove thing coming on strong with no mind of its own to call home just dust and bone all alone on the telephone without anything to say.
an excuse for atheism.
a reason for nihilism.
an escape for existentialism.
to find nothing but hopeless desire and fear tied up with a bow.
angst is out of fashion.
nausea is out of the question.
god is undead.
the clash of language and reality when the two diverge so far apart.
speaking dead languages to one another to our mutual incomprehension.
something new must be hatched.
INI
this post-postmodern age of self-loathing and debasement.
crawling on our hands and knees aiming to please no one who really cares.
this world of secret dungeons anyone can disappear into.
this world of daisy meadows anyone can appear into.
continuing a not poem manifesto report to the committee thing about our theory of everything – dig?
a message for the masses.
quit your jobs.
kill the pigs.
some are more equal than others.
baa baa baa.
duckspeak 2000.
yadda yadda blah blah blah.
and so on.
and suddenly nothing happens.

as a spaceship hovers nearby.
aliens are inter-dimensional spatial temporal travelers who appear in our dimensions as being imaginary.
they may be us from the past/future.
or something like that.
owls.

tripe unimaginative meaningless pointless caca dada data culture.
tribal.
everyone is outcast.
everyone is sacrificed.
everyone is silenced.
disinformation broadcasts from central authority control no one has time to question in their busy lives.
as long as no one rocks the boat.
hunky dory status quo.

barking dog.
escape from the future.
don’t let it happen to you.
refuse.
resist.
rise above.
everything is love.
that is what they tell us.
ever-radiant love throughout the universe and beyond.
when someone beats you senseless with a baseball bat it is because of love.
when you are on the street and no one wants to know you it is because of love.
but you have to tune into it to receive it and for $$$ we’ll tell you how.
an ancient scam scheme that still works today far in the future supposedly.
the holy mystic shamans who claim to have divined truth.
the priests of science and technology who claim to have reasoned truth.
the crowds who believe them.
the willingness of the masses to allow themselves to be manipulated.
some mac and cheese.
a toke.
a cigarette.
the godless wonder of everything.
though the resulting gestalt of everything as godlike thing.
a state of consciousness ever-radiant vibration from every possible location of spacetime.
all love.
all hate.
an amoral god unconcerned with petty human dilemmas we get ourselves entangled in under the spell of the knowledge of good and evil.
everything is duality.
yin yang spin cycle thing.
pay attention.

gazorbnik is the way.
you don’t have enough $$$ to pay for it because it’s free.
a meaningless word he received from the ethereal void.
or perhaps not.
everything with the negation of itself.
mutual annihilation.
a puddle of gray goo dripping from the ruins of former empires of distant past.
gazorbniking is the thing to do to come to understand our own madness.
to gazorbnik is to realize the confusions of doubts and to imagine them out
are we fools?
do we care?
it’s just something in our hair.
something to do when life’s not fair.
it’s neither here nor there.
a life of discipline to attain the clear clean mind transcending beyond this world – if that’s what you want.
for us the mundane material world is amazing enough being the best and worst of all possible worlds.
much of it we like while much of it not so much.
that is the way of it.
not the smooth monotonous path trampled out by the masses in their pursuit of happiness they imagine they might gain once they grab that carrot dangled before them.

the long and winding road we are taking to perhaps nowhere but the journey itself and la-dee-da and such forth mystical cosmic jive like that that’s probably malarkey as much as we know about it or not.
hit it.
bring it home.
it’s all alone.
let all be welcome if they are those who would be welcomed without causing a bunch of needless shit for everyone else.
we each have our dividing line what we’ll tolerate from others and them about us.
there’s always someone left out – rejected.
abandoned to wander free to die.
and what is this about?
why such distinctions?
somebody always complaining about shit.
nothing is ever good enough.
concepts of reality gone wrong.
we fashion ourselves to please those special someones we admire so and wish to be among if we could only get our fucking shit together as we dream as everything is nothing going nowhere far too late for redemption driving out the scapegoat.
if only we minded our manners we would belong.
all our shattered dreams on the ground.
we know how it works among us with those of us who take charge who set the standards the rest of us are to follow or get out.
and blah blah blah.

he’s opened doors of perception for all the good it’s done him to be numbered with all the other losers.
so he perceives other realities of imagination.
big deal.
he is still confronted by the reality of this world with all the trouble it causes us.
we know nothing else for all we dream about everything otherwise.
he has lost faith in his doubt which used to liberate him.
he sits forlorn – hopeless.
he tries to hold on though he is told to let go.
forget.
remember something else.
invent.
make believe pretend.
a child’s game.
but we are all children – or used to be.

as a child he knew nothing.
he couldn’t wait to be older so he would understand.
now he’s near the oldest he’s gonna get and still knows nothing – but he does understand.
a simple life to spend as much time thinking as we can get away with.
some dumb job to live on that doesn’t entail much more than that.
be as irresponsible as possible.
don’t climb ladders.
be with the people.
fuck the elite of any social circle.
that inner clique who decide that they are in charge.
stay on the fringes.
sit on a fence.
watch and wait.

he follows instructions when he wants to.
he obeys orders if he can.
he walks the line all over the place.
he just wants to be left alone.
people bug him.
he seems to bug them.
oh well.
he’s cold.
he puts his beret on.
weird with a beard.
and all that jazz.
not much to it at all.
be a bit insane if not outright mad.
every little bit helps the cause of our mission to undermine the very fabric of society.
why not?

find your happy place.
what’s more to do than that?
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head as he sits before the computer hunched over the keyboard typing out a not poem yadda yadda la-dee-da while he imagines himself sitting on a beach of an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
and so on.

ego or not ego.
self or not self.
he doesn’t care.
no matter what he thinks that he has reasoned on his own is wrong.
he knows that.
that is part of his understanding.
and so what do we do when everything we think is wrong according to all the authorities?
do we crawl into a hole and die like they would like us to do?
one more problem solved.
we keep thinking about everything anyway.
we can’t stop ourselves no more than we can stop breathing.
it is our continuing madness.
this is our magick.
this is where everything begins without beginning.
we have tricks of the trade under our hat that’ll probably all fall flat.
we have barren undeveloped minds.
we failed to discipline ourselves into optimal functioning.
all that has held together whatever sanity we might have is our doubt.
we let it all go.
we wanted nothing in this world but a place to imagine and to dream.
apparently that was too much to ask.
they wanted more from us than that.
they want control.
this wasn’t like it was on tv.
what’s the deal?

hahaha.

pay attention

people not giving a crap.
did we ever?
what’s to give a crap about?
go, team, go.
hooray.
the pointlessness of things in this world.
what are any of us doing here?
there are those of us who claim to know.
they try to motivate the rest of us.
$$$.
fuck their $$$.
what good is it besides to buy back what they have stolen from us?
fuckers.
kill them all.
kill them in their sleep.
the smallness of their imagination and dreams to become lords of this world.
the universe awaits.
we forget them.
we forget ourselves.
none of this matters – or should it?
yes.
no.
maybe.

their invented reality where they are in charge.
we dream other dreams than this.
we dream life while they create death.
death that gives them a feeling of being in control.
we dream life out of control.
wild free.
into the unknown vastness of everything.
spin the wheel once again.
what other options do we have besides to be laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head as we imagine him sitting before the computer hunched over the keyboard typing out a not poem manifesto report to the committee about our theory of everything?
few if any.
who’s the monkey here?
nobody here but us chickens.

he farts as he gains enlightenment with a slap in the face which is the sound of one hand clapping.
an old story.
we want something new and exciting.
we want to be titillated with trinkets and gizmos.
we don’t want mysteries to puzzle to understand.
we want to know and go go go.
the big bright green pleasure machine set to task.
all our hopes and dreams programmed to respond.

cute little girls and boys all set to have their minds manipulated to turn them against one another in a competitive game we make of life and death.
time is short and we cannot allow the freedom of childish fantasy to continue much longer.
they must know that there are responsibilities they owe to the social order.
they must realize the sacrifices they need to make.
they will be graded according to their understanding and participation to determine their placement in the collective hierarchy.
they will each be allowed their individual time to spend as they might wish within certain guidelines of expected behavior.
it’s not best to spend much time alone as it often causes disquieting thoughts to develop.
we must always keep our motivation up and running and ready to go.
we must keep in mind our goals and our plans on how to achieve them.
he goal was to remain a lazy bum without any plans.
he’s been quite successful – thus far.
he let fate guide the way with every choice he supposedly made.
freewill to choose among fates.
how many times has it gone different than how he expected?
how many times did it not?
he gave up having expectations that too often lead to disappointment.
in this way he worked following a way toward a life of needing to do but little to function and survive.
thinking about everything he can under the circumstances of having little to no knowledge of whatever.
just as no god he believes in planned it.
no god but the god of everything if there such a god or not he don’t care beyond having an interest in speculating about it which it seems to work in some ways and not in others to explain everything.
more duality.
god is maya.
everything is maya.
maya is maya.
nothing is real.
how does that feel?
there can be no such thing as nothing.
it cannot exist.
everything exists.
nothing does not exist – except as it is part of everything and everything cannot be everything unless it includes nothing.
see the problem here?
the answer is a riddle.

everything is all riddles – riddled with riddling riddles.
according to our theory anyway which may be entirely wrong.
and so what if it is?
it’s only something we make up and imagine might be how everything is or not.
it’s only what we gazorbnik together from various sources we come across in our experience and needing to include them all with our theory of everything continuing on and on as we see fit and understand a bit sorta skewed sideways or another or not.
is everything meant to be taken always so seriously and literally and matter of factly as many seem to take it with their truths and shit like that?
everything can be calculated to be this way or that way or the other way and so on but does that necessarily mean anything?
if it feels good do it.
nothing is forbidden, everything is permitted.
but for some it feels good preventing others from doing what feels good to them.
it get complicatedly convoluted real quick and disappears into oblivion.
do what thou wilt.
who knows the true nature of their own will?
who knows how to command it instead of the other way around with our will being commanded by external forces of stimulation?
when push comes to shove.
when it all breaks down.
when you find yourself on easy street and it’s closed for repairs.
prepare for the order of the new world.
pay attention.

possessed

a toke.
a cigarette.
a not poem we are them manifesto about our theory of everything.
everything without beginning or end beginning ending everywhere everywhen we decide to perceive it beginning ending in our reality as it works for or against us for our purposes or the purposes of others we allow to manipulate our reality and such like that as it will be forever before and after as it is up to us individually to weasel our way out of it one way or another against the tides of fascist fashion of groupthink evolution toward oneness of the collective which means no disquieting disparaging thought on the part of any of the parts thereof in synergistic symbiosis of psyche in competitive coexistence rolling toward the promised land of ages old myth and legend while it destroys all in its path to salvation.
he’s got the heebee jeebees that occur to him once in a while coming and going with the contentment he feels otherwise that ebb and flow in a dance coloring his perceptions of what’s happening or not that he tries not to take seriously but that’s easier said than done sometimes like this.
dreaming dreams of dreaming dreams ad infinitum seeming real while dreaming them that it is difficult to think that they might not be as they are all interwoven into a tapestry of everything possible to experience from our imagination or not.
or something like that.
there are any number of explanations of what everything is or means we have to choose from to believe or make up our own for ourselves alone any one or all of which might be true if there is truth which rationalogic reasoning tells us there must be and only one truth blah blah blah.
whatever it might be or not we must obey its demands upon us.
it is everything and we are nothing – unless the opposite is true.
could be.
why not?
we wish we had a prescription for your happiness or whatever you desire most of all.
we wish we had a magick mantra to keep your fears at bay.
but we don’t.
we just babble on from our own sense of amused contentment in our garden before the onslaught begins.
the masses are hungry.
they must be fed with whatever synthetic stuff we might feed them to satisfy their lusts for more more more unending demand.
they feed at the trough of mass media hocus pocus swill and can’t get enough.
they believe what they are told about the matters at hand being taken care of without question that might find meaningful expression besides the endless complaints they have about everything in general one way or another .
we’ve seen past all that and put it in our hat.
we’re so special.
ha.

a beginningless beginning.
and endless end.
exactly where are these points to be found when something appears from or disappears into nothing?
can they be measured?
do they exist?
everything fades into and out of existence in the infinitesimal reaches of oblivion and beyond.
the void claims everything as its own with a mad god laughing screaming alone at its own reflections knowing this is the truth of reality as is was is will be continuing a dance with itself as energy waving like a burning flag in the field of flags up on a hill of broken bodies the victors stand upon in anxious celebration.

every monkey has its day.

he writes as he thinks as he writes along on pathless paths toward exactly what he is not quite entirely sure.
the destination is the journey itself.
something may be be only one thing but may mean many things.
that’s one of the clues it would seem in our dream.
it’s all part of their scheme to twist us outta shape from ourselves into their designs for world conquest.
we have little choice but to go along with it as it constitutes what we perceive as reality or whatever.
the reality they impose upon us sucks.
a homogenized monotonous goop of the lowest common denominator the masses might comprehend such that they keep working making $$$ for the pigs.
our reality is much much better by far with a myriad of possibilities though in their terms of needing to be productive and profitable it is greatly lacking and thus is for only the few and far between who are able to understand how it could be fitting abstractly into cracks in the concrete world falling to pieces around us when it was supposed to last 1000 years.
there is something about them who look for the eternal in that which never changes, who believe truth is etched in stone.
what a mockery that is.
it is not eternal life but death they seek and worship through the ages.
and so on.
and he lives in dreams.
and he is useless to anyone.
and he is not that interested nor interesting.
he is this human thing concerned with his own existence and survival in this world of pleasure and pain and such like duality dada he is born into and dies from.
and that’s all she wrote.
the world could not care about what consciousness he achieves or not.
the world could not care if he lives or dies.
he could not care if the world lives or dies.
if it vanishes like a dream when we awaken.
but where when does he awaken to?
another reality?
but a reality of the same questions about it that the reality of this world has.
what difference does it make?
zip.

the poor ego tries valiantly to struggle and hold on.
poor little guy.
why is such an idiot pitted against the world at large he doesn’t quite understand.
but then he is the ego it would seem.
that’s what they tell us.
an ego against billions of other egos.
egos fraught with desires and fears.
why the ego?
are we vehicles for spirits bored with nothing else to do but go for a joyride in a mortal body till it breaks down and dies?
refuse and resist.
overcome ourselves.
rise above.
hahaha.

he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
he’s been told by many others what he should want to do.
to do what they do.
pay attention.
learn.
become.
but what to become?
he just wants to continue dreaming dreams.
why he dreams of this world he doesn’t know.
this world is so troubled and troubling.
all these other humans overpopulating the earth along with him.
somebody should do something about that.
blow something up or something.
blow up a balloon until it explodes in your face.
that’ll teach them a lesson.
the tao of the absurd.
if there is not room for the absurd then what good is any philosophy or science or religion or whatever?
we include the absurd in with our theory of everything.
how can it be a theory of everything without it?
their theories suck.
they eliminate everything that does not fit in with their theory to make it work and make $$$ for the pigs who employ them.
our theory does no such thing except the $$$ we’re paid to be crazy and think up theories of everything and such whatever and write not poems about them if we want to.
our theory is discombobulated mish mash of whatnot as it supposed to be.
that seems to us to be what everything is in and of itself.
or it is in our discombobulated mish mash of whatnot minds.
which is a reflection of which?
is this just our madness?
we wander about in our confusion only we are not confused.
we understand our confusion very well.
we’ve lived with it our whole lives through.
it’s those who cannot deal with their own confusion and develop rigid thought systems to wall themselves up and keep it hidden from them and their uncomprehending minds.
and they think they are correct in this as they are able to be successful and make $$$ – the one true sign of their wisdom and intelligence.
to hell with the rest of us.
but we have what they do not and $$$ cannot buy.
we have gazorbnik which is the key to everything.
all we have to do is to gazorbnik and our confusion becomes our friend and ally.
but this isn’t really true except in certain instances of doubt.
doubt is the engine of gazorbnik and our understanding.
gazorbnik is a word he made up or perhaps stole from somewhere he doesn’t now remember where or when.
gazorbnik is meaningless.
that is its power.
when we understand the nature of meaninglessness we may understand everything that confronts us – or not.
for all we know gazorbnik is the name of a demon who possesses us to make us mad.
why not?
or an angel.
whatever.

another toke.
another cigarette.

 

the dada continues

wake up.
make coffee.
unload the dishwasher.
a toke.
a cigarette.
down to business.
controlled opposition.
revolutionary celebrities.
everything is lies – except what we tell you.
we tell you the truth.
the truth is there is no truth.
the answer is a riddle.
the question is a mystery.
we are idiots.
truth is what works for us or against us as truth.
we discover it for ourselves.
truth is not what anyone else tells us is truth.
they just think that what makes $$$ and keeps them in power is truth, which in a sense it is if that is what we wish to believe in.
our truth transcends their truth.
their truth is only the truth of the material world – if there is a material world.
ripples of spacetime.
our truth is the one constant vibration throughout eternity without beginning or end.
it always is.
a vibration of duality of which everything is composed.
on/off – and the infinite continuum between and beyond.
but we have no truth.
we are well beyond truth and its limitations.
we suffer the consequences.
our truth is ourselves.
he sneezes 3 times.
isn’t that supposed to be lucky?

everything we experience is becuz it is vibrating with energy that excites our senses and imagination.
our senses perceive what it is as it appears while our imagination perceives what it means.
we live in both worlds – and many others.
a world of reality and fantasy combined such it is difficult to distinguish one from the other.
we are in the middle of it.
we might be exact dead center.
everything constantly changing configurations of itself never repeating quite the same ever again.
each moment is different than any before it.
each moment is now.
now is everywhen that was is will be.
here is everywhere.
we are everything.
this world may be an observatory to everything.
we come here to experience it and study and learn what it possibly could be – including these human creatures we are born among.
including our very own selves.
we are fairly certain we exist.
we are fairly certain we are experiencing.
we are fairly certain we are thinking and feeling.
we could be wrong.
oh well.

medication time.

and he comes back with a cranberry juice.
this world of sensations.
and we might choose to discipline ourselves how to turn off those sensations and perhaps perceive another reality of eternal bliss consciousness or whatever.
that always seemed like too much work to him.
he is content settling into this world as it appears as comfortably as possible with the minimum of effort involved.
maintaining a simple life of simple basic needs met.
and all the time to experience everything and think about what it is and imagine what it means.
he writes as he thinks and thinks as he writes to focus his mind somewhat while still allowing it to run free and wild in new wildernesses to discover what it can out of our ignorance.

admitting ignorance is the first step toward gaining wisdom – guru jeff.

wisdom schmisdom.
quit taking it so serious.
relax.

allow it to come and go with minimal interference finding balance out of balance with it.
ongoing continuing process ever-changing while appearing to remain the same.
a rock is a rock.
a rock is a rock becuz we wish and imagine there being a rock as it suits our needs for the moment.
we find it pretty amazing that we can do that out of nothing into what appears to be something and for all intents and purposes is something.
it is/is not it.
hello kitty.

a rock may be someone’s cold cold heart who doesn’t love us as we love them.
no compassion.
no feeling whatsoever.
inhuman.
a rock is whatever we might wish to imagine it being despite whatever it might actually be if anything.
if that can ever be determined.
a rock of variables being and meaning that may be infinite as is with everything else existing.
a rock disappearing into infinitesimal infinity in all directions and dimensions and such toward oblivion and beyond as is with everything else.
creating sustaining destroying.
and all that jazz.

worry is a misuse of our imagination – guru jeff.

who can tell us what’s what with what?
who do we trust?
those in positions of high authority in the social hierarchy?
those babbling on the streets at the bottom?
ourselves somewhere in the middle?
there is truth to be found always in the middle.
a truth, not the truth.
truths are to be found always at the extremes.
who can take it all in?
we view the world through a keyhole down upon our knees.
we barely can see anything at all even with our enhancing devices.
what’s going on?

the trouble is in our heads.
we need to expand our thinking.
we need to free ourselves from our paradigms.
open our minds to obliteration.
he needs to go pee.