zap-a-dang-doodle

zap-a-dang-doodle.
zap-a-dang-doodle all day.
harrumph-haha.
the klown has coffee and a toke and a chocolate muffin.
the fat black cat on the windowsill.
zippy-doo-whiz-bang.
hooray!

a nice enough day unless we get hit by an earthquake or something.
a weapon of mass destruction perhaps.
so many possibilities could go wrong or right.
but even wrong is right, perhaps just not right for us and our wants and needs and so on.
if it happens it’s cuz it’s supposed to happen as the result of certain prior events leading to it happening in such and such a way and then some.
this is the way of the world and either helps or harms us.
however our being helped or harmed has no bearing on what happens.
it happens as it does becuz it does.

and from here it could be argued that we have no free will or not.
this is also irrelevant to the course of events.
of course as always this may not be true.
it’s just something our brains are thinking at the moment.
thinking and pressing certain keys on the keyboard that cause letters to appear on the computer screen that form words that might be read by another.
this is truth – or at least a true description of something happening as it is observed by the naked eye.
the meaning of the words the klown writes in this way may not be true, or even false.
can they be neutral?
is there any such thing?

question your doubts.
they may be true or false.
a state of being either one damn thing or another in binary opposition which itself may not be true or false.
there is always more.
there is always less.

let’s go ask dr. quizmo!
she will know.
let’s go ask her what gazorbnik means.
will she know even that?
perhaps.
we will know when we get there.

but the klown giggles a little at this chicanery that amuses him as time appears to go by.
those who know are silent.
those who don’t know never shut up.
what is knowing?
knowing what?
the universe without?
the universe within?
the universe in-between and beyond?
the universe point blank here now?

cum together.
think until everything is meaningless.
hold that thought.
put it in your pocket for a rainy day.
flip it into a fountain to make a wish come true.

HELP!

 

oops, did it again

document 17 –

ΑΩ

our dear one beloved:
everything compressed into a singularity or some such which doesn’t matter much
cuz people are living and dying on the streets
everywhere we see
though we tend to look away from that sight
cuz it gives us a fright at
what happens if you don’t got $$$
so it keeps the masses working hard
cuz you don’t get to just walk away and gaze at the sun
and have all sortsa fun when your life’s undone.
how does it feel?

the clown typing continuing not p0em that doesn’t really matter to most people’s lives anyway. are they awoke, or is he? it could go either way it would seem.
the clown himself claims nothing of the kind being the dumb fuck that he is. let the others all brag. he’ll hang out like an old hag. he doesn’t salute the flag. everything is a drag.

everyone wants him under control or he will be controlled, just like everyone else the same.
the powers that be have their designs in place.
a docile population obedient to the slightest command from above from those closer to god than they are.
it’s a joke – a serious joke.

older woman in space age fabric coat walking back from the store every day at about this time smoking a cigarette.
the clown decides to smoke a cigarette too.

what is a joke is that the clown is a joke, but no one is laughing. it’s not that kinda joke. it’s a joke with a gun pointed at your head. you’re gonna be dead – at last. do it motherfucker, the clown says while gazing up at a cloud passing by.
but, nothing.

low level consciousness declared about those of us who won’t obey. it’s their choice. but it’s our choice to force then into that choice. but we make $$$, so how are we to blame?
we’re smarter than that. we have a hat. we know where it’s at. it’s all down beneath the ground not making a sound.

±0 flashing on/off causing everything else to exist.
oh boy.
why this is to be we are not entirely sure.
perhaps we will never know but it will remain an eternal mystery.
they tell us god created everything with love.
the love of torture it would seem from the evidence if we observe it correctly.
god, the ultimate power over everything.
god, the ultimate oppressor of everything.
and/or those who make themselves into god – in its image.
a god prone to fits of rage.
the clown naps.

awakening.
unsupervised homeless lunatics packed in the shelters at night with their dogs kicked out to the streets at dawn. how would you like to be one of them? it could happen. why? why not? both are true among other possibilities arranged for your pleasure.
imagine someone who needs to be constantly appeased or it’s off with your heads.
game shows on tv are some people’s reality – millions of them.
the clown always begins to doubt when others are perfectly sure they know what’s what.
we are better than everybody else. 909
we keep the bums around, but chase them off once in a while if they get too thick, to show everyone else how much we don’t give a shit about the losers, so keep working and obeying orders or this could be you down and out on easy street.

is it really all’s fair in love and war?
if that is the case then we are in love with everyone at once and for all. we are happy with this decision. how could we not be? everyone’s a winner. don’t give up. help is on the way.
but what could help us now but to have about 6 billion people die off this planet. that’s what the elite seem to be preparing themselves for. fuck the rest of us.

remember, the world is a dream we are all having together, as our theory of everything holds on every odd numbered tuesday afternoons around teatime.
nevermind the gin.
the clown has a hit and more coffee and a cigarette, by golly. and gazorbnik don’t mean nothing. it is neither for nor against, up nor down, in nor out, here nor there, now nor then, etcetera. gazorbnik cannot possibly exist in a universe of duality. it must exist elsewhere that is here now, or not.
it’s too complicated for the mind to follow. we become dizzy and fall into the bottomless pit – falling falling falling forever. but how would we tell that we are falling or not? maybe everything would look to us to be perfectly normal. but what is perfectly normal today in the future? it keeps changing. yup, it sure does.

but hold on a moment, if existence and nonexistence is considered to be two more opposing states of a dualistic universe, then wouldn’t gazorbnik also neither exist nor not exist? perhaps so. we’ll have to ask the wizard the next time she comes around which isn’t very often but often enough to settle dilemmas of reason and ilk such as this question we would ask her.

everything becomes mixed up. it is difficult to believe and/or doubt gazorbnik. it seems so much foolish nonsense. there are many many other things we should attend to but it’s too overwhelming right now. maybe tomorrow. maybe a tomato.
we soon feel ourselves covered with twinkling dust on our heads and shoulders that isn’t really real. we gaze and look for silver linings, but it keeps getting darker it seems to those without an eye to see anything hopeful getting themselves in the way of our vision. against all their amplified yammering babbling noise we are silent – or silenced. so we talk to ourselves among ourselves about silly things like, what exactly does it mean when gazorbnik is found to be meaningless?
we get ourselves twisted into tangled knots only for the sword to separate. a sword of justice? haha, held by who? who among us should wield it?
the strong push their way to the front, the wise quickly scatter, the dull and stupid of the rest of us await orders.
or something like that.

when what makes one happy is the pursuit of happiness is when one has found the way to it. it is it. the object is the project, that is our goal. understand?

probably not.
oh well, there’s other fish to fry. will any of this be readable in the future? will it be even more gibberish than it already is? but that’s not the point. the point is the clown needs something to occupy his mind awhile and typing not p0em does the trick. nothing more or less than that. 1:11

pet the kitty.
damnation, it always seems to happen this way for whatever reason we cannot be troubled about for now, but when is it not now? but we have difficulty keeping track of time. hummmmm… so we invent satellites to help us telling us the exact moment as it is technically possible to do so. but it is always off by some miniscule infinitesimal unit of time too fast to be measured. is that how the trick is done? there’s nothing here now at all? is it all fake? are we fake? in a sense we are, but in another sense we are not.

it’s a trick, a hoax, a fake – perhaps. does it need to be? seems it would be more trouble than it’s worth to create and sustain, and for what? every answer to that question is, perhaps. perhaps this, perhaps that, perhaps the other thing, etcetera. the minds of possibility move into all directions at once. ding dong the world is dead, the wicked world, the world is dead, ding dong the wicked world is dead.

the light is bright, and when it’s turned on we scatter like cockroaches into dark corners with shame and fear we inherit from generations of abuse of power. but having power itself is abuse no matter what they try to convince us otherwise. power to the people is powerlessness, when one does not have power over others. fat chance of that ever happening. there are always those who feel they know better and/or are mightier than the rest. in a sense of its own rationale that is true.

power that uplifts rather than keeps down. power that heals. power that enriches more than just the few. what silly games we play among ourselves destroying the earth until it is unlivable as a result.
oh well.

the nazi/zionist illuminati reptilian alien overlords and their human minions who have done this to us, enslaving us to dig for minerals and metals for themselves. but of course we meet them 1/2 way by our nature reinforced by nurture and indoctrination to obey.
blah blah blah, who cares?

not us.

go

part 93 –

 

oops…?

awakening before dawn.
the clown couldn’t sleep. silly clown. police sirens he imagines coming to get him as the crowd chants, fuck you!

there will be a time when everything is illegal for merely existing. won’t that be a fun happy time. we’ll all be in prisons. fear not, little people, it won’t happen until yesterday’s tomorrow. relax, and have some delicious applesauce.

trying his worst to follow the command of reason the clown is somewhat surprised by something banging crashing around in the dream closet as he continues typing not p0em for the hell of it. he is behind in all his work. will it never be done?

is it about hats? is that our conclusion?

cycles of various sizes of infinity (±0) to fit inside the head of a gnat with room to spare if need be. this is our fate to think about this duckspeak in our minds. robots coming to kill us is one (1) alternative to the process of the situation. abhorrent disharmony swept under a rug no one wants to see very much, except in the private curiosity of one’s own loneliness. keep it tight. keep it under control. WWIII. eat dick. in the year 2525. everything is true enough.

the clown gazes out the window at the park which for the moment or so appears to him to be cubist for some reason. is that reality? or is reality surrealist? or pop? or whatever? he looks out the window again and it’s dark. the mysteries of it astounding him.

but people are frightened. psychophobic paranoia. teeny tiny cyber-spiders in our brains taking command. it’s an ugly sight to see for oneself, but there is no any other way out to the other sides as we wish.

home.

the clown typing ongoing continuing not p0em while a woman walks a dog around the park. as it is written so shall it be. the mighty word. the word of might. it might be anything at all.

he is never quite able to get himself together enough for anything that means anything. he always misses the boat – that ship of fools. his prana yama ding dong askewed down the middle of consciousness of his being, if you know what we mean.

the clown decides that he is the absolute greatest of them all, fashionably late as he is. who is greater at what he does than himself? he can think of no one, though most have given up on him by now. stupid cows.

his idiot madness will not be silent no matter how it embarrasses those around him. haha.
let them eat pancakes.

get in line for heaven. wait your turn, goddamn it.
when in doubt take a left at the light waving our burning flag high above the rest. you know the drill in your head since the beginning of remembering. scan your membership ID chip at the gate. and you’re in. this is where you have always belonged.

ride the mind shift/ship. ride it on down to funky town. find yourself down and out on easy street in the imaginary city. it ain’t on no map ever. but it is it. so go imagine that under your hat.

quack quack quack like a duck somewhere on a still pond except for ripples of its passing swimming in circles and echoes of its own voice as everything is non-beginning unending continuation of itself.

if there is god is it not ultimately solipsistic? what a drag that must be. the party’s over. go home, if you can find it.
sitting all night in a 24hr diner on a cup of coffee. nowhere to go that isn’t the same. what is this, some sorta existential thing? objectivist? actualist? futurist? whatever, baby.

monotone chaos. chaos isn’t always chaotic as most believe. it can be very ordered and structured just by chance – the romance of the moment. is this too simple? is it not simple enough?

11:11

there is always something unreal about it all. we are disconnected from it. the unnatural/natural world where the same rules apply to either and both. birth life death machine everyone knows as nancy. and let’s not forget the pointlessness of everything.

and pet the kitty.

this starts one way and ends up another in continuing motions like the ocean while there is nothing there at all but mumbo jumbo ooga booga down in the bogs of consciousness as one might suspect at once ever after.

\\\\\\\\\\\\ 

1 quart of brown rice (uncooked).

he stands on one leg and closes one eye. he is on fire. the fire of experiencing everything that is at once.

we laugh and laugh our fool heads off cuz we don’t get it either. we haven’t a clue. who should we ask? what is truth?

a line of people appears before us willing to tell us truth as they know it. how do we know? we check credentials and do not find what we are looking for in any of them. go away. do not look back, just keep going the way you all came.

but we are laughing at last. there’s nothing left but a joke. it’s difficult to puzzle but once you see it your laughter will ring in this hall of the dead gods. we’ve outgrown them all though we are called idiots and fools by those who should know better, yes?

it’s medication time, how creepy is that?
lucky us.

tickle us pink.
what else do you think?

is it a magick bus?

how come why not?
what’s the situation?

cuz it’s always a situation with us gummy dummies stuck to your boots as you march on happily to war against women and children and old men blown to bloody broken pieces in over-glorified apocalyptic death wish thing worldwide.

suckers.

[scattered laughter from the viewing audiences]

standing room only at the burning theater.

the clown stands in the back mumbling preaching to himself under attack.

his head’s cracked open anyone could see.
he spins wheels around in tranquility.

he meets a stranger whose name is joe.

joe doesn’t seem like anyone the clown wants to know.
but he could be wrong.

it’s the same old song.

pet the kitty.
the clown chews bazooka.

nothing much more to think about nothing.

the clown goes to his happy place on mars checking it all out trying to imagine where the hardware store might go or the school or the landfill.

trapped on a tiny little world compared to everything else.

a soul enclosed into physical form.

he smiles knowing everything he thinks is true in some form or another.

he thinks about a zillion things at once.

little does he know that he is being spied on, but he does know.

he spies back into space and time to gaze into a void.

he is unconcerned whether everything exists or not.

it’s just a game he plays in his head.

a game of opposition.

f

the clown doesn’t think anymore – if he ever did, which is doubtful.

it’s too much like work for him to be interested.

what has thinking ever done for him but make his headaches worse?
he’s down twitching on the kitchen floor.

but soon he’s up begging for more.

some more of the good stuff.

that’s the trick, baby.

living in a delectable material world the clown always looking at his hands wondering how they are and came to be something to wonder about.

and a zillion other things in the world the same.

everything is naught but itself, but not as it appears.

o’ come let us adore it.
it came from outer space.

living in a dead end town in an undisclosed location known only to the select few.

the number of the beast.

the clown opens the blinds to let in the light.

wait, what?

who tells us we should become enlightened? follow the $$$, it will tell you wonderful secrets masked by beautifully sweet words that lie like hell.

no, no one wishes to wake up to the fact that they have been useful idiots. oh well.

we have to blame ourselves as it all falls down revealing the illusion it always is. chained up children are tortured, set afire to die while the lords of this world who profit from it laugh in their castles in the clouds watching it all on 3d tv.

bunny.

in the future everything is mandatory.

no one does what they don’t have to do.
how has anything changed?

the clown feels like everyone’s playing some kinda psychological battleship with everyone else everywhere all the time on and on toward some sense of infinity that never will be but always is.

or not.

masturbating monkeys know the score.
home – 0
visitors – ±0

ready.
steady.
go.

…for a moment

part 90 –

ah-ha, now he gets it.

and so it goes. forgotten forgiveness, but not quite. opening doors. creepy crawly things up and down the spine makes us feel fine as we please to be once we decide to\ be.
forget once more. forget the fathomless reaches of reality always at arm’s length to touch and feel what the eye may be deluded to see with clever magick.
yes?

 

of course, none of anything might be actually happening here on planet ESD-4469\z² where everything seems strangely familiar to the hopeful ecstatic clown not quite himself anymore but to have become some caricature of itself (it is it).
it is what creates sustains destroys everything. it is a constant mystery to us what it might be that is it.

can anything be it? not that we know about or not, but it could be possible. it is birth life death all at once in every moment – and such forth la-dee-da.

watching dystopian apocalyptic tv in the other room against the wall, motherfuckers. some other day it will probably all be the same. it happens like that.

ants.
discovering oneself dancing away on the phony moon chasing teapots that have flipped their lids. the clown has a piece of broken tooth coming loose. soon he’ll have none left in his head where we believe ourselves to be residing for the while of our lives. diseased filth of the lowered lifeforms we kick outta our way. but it’s nothing to sneeze at. it’s everything we dream could be. the clown could tell by the strange lights filling the room with particular colors of the deranged that he is due for another paradigm shift. he’s had so many lately, yet they all remain fundamentally the same throughout the process to awaken at last to an unending understanding.

 

smearing feces across the walls of known reality. some have what it takes. others do not. our science is only useful if it makes $$$. toward that end it bends the facts to fit the product specifications outlined in corporate boardrooms. consider using precise language. newspeak would be advised.
this is the brave new world as we know it. most live in squalor and misery while a few rejoice in their new freedoms.

so, let us prey and wave our flags. who knows who will live tomorrow? a stab in the back in the chaos of the battlefield. we gain victory, or we die. one or the other. bliss or oblivion.

 

on/off binary thinking of events of space and time that are constantly continuing to change from one configuration to more and more, a stream of consciousness that dreams about us on acid. mocking the old gods who are pissed as hell anyway, so fuck it.
the humor of everything never ceases to amaze us. we laugh. the point being that there isn’t exactly a point. what could be precise enough as that would require to exist? everything is approximations. can it ever be pinpoint with everything never ceasing changing?
how to be in an infinite number of places at once when everything is here now.
degrees of happiness are available to us as we wish just to complicate matters into our own hands. the uncomplicated peoples understanding how it goes.

_________

 

awakening.

we are a babbling brook of meaningless gazorbnik of all stories told for our pleasure. we are a dangling cigarette and a cup o’ joe lazily enjoying late in the morning. we have magick we don’t know if it works though our good fortune has stuck with us regardless.
it’s medication time.

 

we see nothing to envy among the others. no one we would rather become except ourselves, whatever we are to become other than natural born idiots and fools.

but this is all probably beside the point which is pointless. or perhaps it is directly the point if the point could be determined exactly where and when it should be. everywhere? everywhen? 0? infinity? heaven? hell? what?
according to our theory of everything all answers are correct, but that only seems to confuse the issue.

 

but should we not forget all this? when x=infinity. we should just enjoy it while it lasts neither for nor against anything. we gain victory over ourselves – haha. what a 2-edged sword that is. it should be handled with careful and true intentions.

we shall see.

 

the actors of divine intercourse enter upon the stage at the burning theater to speak their lines written by sacred experience. are these the gods also doomed by their fate? we are to inquire with legitimately authorized speculations only as to their meaning. we have much to learn.
when one screams with realization and enlightenment. is it such a terrible thing? it would seem to be.

 

when it=x. x, the unknown. let x=x. let it stand to reason under god. the $$$ of the lord. the lord of this world. who profits from this? somebody must, or it wouldn’t be happening, correct?

where do we go from here?
we are going, going – gone.
the clown is going, going – gone for a nap.

 

and awakening at some point late afternoon he feels like he’s being monitored though why would they waste their time on him he doesn’t know why.
forget that shit, it does not compute.

it pukes.

 

who is to decide what for anyone? the free individual? the collective state? the rich and powerful? the aliens? the gods? the fat black cat? none of the above?
we choose among the options fate has given us, or they are chosen for us. act or be acted upon.
who is right and who is wrong will be decided in battle. the hero warriors will return home armed with truth proving once more what we believe conquers all. that is all that is important. nevermind everything else.
changing our minds about anything – everything. we are allowed to do that in many cases, but not all. we are chained to the limitations of truth. some will lie becuz they can. some will lie becuz they must. all are treated the same by the powers that be and those they control by subtle manipulations. if we see them they appear screamingly loud and drunkenly rude. how can anyone still believe? but so many still do. enough to carry the crowd toward reluctant compliance.
infantile declarations of our ignorant understanding of most anything. but we don’t worry. why should we? is there something to worry about?

is it worse to keep living or to die now? living has become a predictable mess. death is a mystery of chance.

11:11

the clown sleeps.

_________

 

awakening to a sunny morning closed blinds glowing from direct sunlight upon them the clown needs to do nothing today coffee a toke a cigarette and it’s medication time. yummy.

and a nap.

 

awakening #2.
the clown sitting before the computer continuing typing not p0em facing east toward the mountain gazing out the window while fallen leaves dance with the wind up and down the street and over the lawns which people do not care for them doing but he don’t mind if they do. they rake the leaves up. he admires their natural beauty to decay into the earth to make it rich and abundant as they should be allowed.

there’s something wrong with that boy. all he wants to do is stare at leaves. it takes him to some other place and time of no place or time.

heaven help us all.

to win a battle valiantly fought to victory is one person’s dream. to be allowed to gaze without thinking is another person’s dream. guess who wins everytime? might is right, no matter what. true enough?

[ ] yes.

[ ] no.

[ ] go fuck yourselves.

 

but gazorbnik shines forth the crazy way we are to transverse toward unknown/(x) destinations. gazorbnik that we make up for ourselves what seems appropriate to include. gazorbnik has many meanings that all end up into no meanings. that’s how gazorbnik got its name.
there’s no such “thing” as gazorbnik. it gets mixed entangling with our dreams. sloth.
departure within. the train has left the station. where do we go from here?
let’s go to the beach.

where’s the beach?
the beach is in our imaginations.

crackers.

 

so, we don’t mind if it’s 1/2 not real or not. that is not our intentions to not be.

it’s easy once we stop taking it seriously. so it is written, so it must be true, and all that jazz. listening to odd “musick” the clown devises to himself in moments of bliss induced state of mind.
hello, baby.

 

the circus is leaving town with the gypsy wagon leading along the road of pathless paths. they’ve done their job. the project is well underway.

everyone is depressed, down in the dumps. that’s what the clown notices around him. so many holes in the ground people have fallen into they can’t seem to manage to get out. he’s been there, done that. nor does he wish to be sucked up into the holes in the sky. he likes it here now though there is so much wrong with it being as it is in whatever goes by reality of sorts.
blech.

 

the clown smiles knowing it’s gonna be alright – supposedly. it’ll be a rough ride going down. stone free is what he wants to be. he’ll probably never see it in this lifetime, nor not many more others either.

but it’s gonna be alright anyhow.

 

wait, you’ll see…

 

 

squeak?

part 88 –

pretending sitting watching waves on an imaginary island with the machine everyone knows as nancy in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.

dream pie deluxe octogonistic flamboyant dundle bunny prancing in his head the clown typing not p0em for anyone anymore as thinking of the collective id magnified by our “intelligence” with or without our noticing the haunting “entities” that thrive there we must always be on guard for and/or against where lines are drawn across shifting sands.
do not forget the krill.

what potluck smorgasbord offerings of non-linear propulsions with metaschizophrenic science as designed by the seriousness of the situations written as chalkboard calculations for our approval undone by irrationalogic reason.
monkeys on trial for their tactless indiscretions of free thought not in line with prohibitions disguised as common sense.
holy hi-ho/la-dee-da. give or take an inch. zingo.
_________

it is told to us by the wise guys that we must overcome. overcoming the boredom is the hardest part. it is quicksand. we have seen many sinking into it never to come out again.
but we ourselves “fly away above”. we don’t know how or why this is or not.

he is happy and he knows it, he claps his hands.
goof nugget. “zippy”. the realizations that come to him now that it is too late but to remember where/when it all comes from living the life he has lived in joy and despair. he don’t care if you “understand”.

the clown paints himself into a corner. he whistles a different tune waiting for the paint to dry.
it all balances at 0. but 0 is nothing, so we venture out to see what’s happening – to create what is happening. to make $$$ for somebody.

the fat black cat sleeping.
steady as it goes. cold banana. surf the slippery slope. he’s never had much “faith” in any one thing or another, so he built his own out of what he could understand in his own way possible. he expounds upon it outta virgo enhanced obsessive/compulsive disorder. and no one need buy into it. it’s his own trip.
we thought that was understood at the beginning but perhaps not. maybe you weren’t paying attention.
so it goes to believing in everything as much as the eye can see and imagine. believing in gods of every kind – yours included. earth peopled with gods. there is no god. but there is $$$ in god. find god that sells. keep the change.

this is his peace and quiet typing not p0em the clown enjoying being here now. ah-choo.
he expects nothing else. he is boring, but never bored©.
i am!? is the battle cry before we die laughing.
{exploring the self to the point of “i am”. but what is i am? another illusion of itself shrouded in itself? i am before it has a thought of itself. just experiencing. just being. just radiating through everything everywhere everywhen. nothing to it.}

ultra-transcendalistically the clown creeps about in his “brain” looking for monitoring devices. they could be in anything we ingest what we have come to “trust no one”.
hats off.

this is it when everything ends.
this is it when everything begins.
it is it when everything continues.
this moment, now.

everyone calling for the “end of the world” by whatever name they might call it as it occurs in every moment passing.
they have it figured out and imagine they will be the ones “saved” who survive.
the clown knows he will be among the billions dead.
no big deal – he is more than 1/2 way there already.
everything is reset to 0.
is he done with this world?
we shall see.

the one thing we have is gazorbnik and gazorbnik is like unto a swollen infected [cyst] ready to be lanced open to spill out its pus and stench.
it is a butterfly emerging from the crazy cartoon cocoon to mate and die in a display of glorious wonder.
gazorbnik is “fake” for all to see and imagine.
do not think about gazorbnik.
gazorbnik is not for you.
few understand the “humor” in this.
once we understand then the laughter begins, though nothing is all that humorous come to think of it.

has.

11:11
spreading madness [as instructed] like jam on slices of buttered toast.
yum.
more coffee, toke, and a cigarette.
hahaha.
everything is more interesting now than before “it is it” always taking crazy cryptic curves bending what is known to us as “reality”, though it probably is not. nevermind.
chastised and still laughing at the confusion in the eyes of those attempting to reason with us. make us obey and pay, or make us go away and don’t come back another day.

but th

all are not created equal.™

let us not forget that this is not p0em written by a clown as he seems to have reached a stalemate with himself. everything is odd imperfect balance out of balance of contradictory oppositions in discordant harmony. can you see “it”? is your head screwed on right? or is it left? we can make the proper adjustments accordingly.

it’s medication time.
and some people like everything structured in order. it’s ok for some things but chaos needs to have its place for this teetering balancing act to |function.
that’s how we are here for; it would seem; or not.
we are happenstance glitches in the spacetime continuums mechanism galore and then some. we don’t know how or why. we just happen to appear as if by some godawful magick. a blessing in disguise?
it takes all kinds. why don’t you see? see the possibility.
it’s a joke, isn’t it?
perhaps.

sticks and stones will break our bones, but names will never hurt us.
we are mutating freaks that “r/evolution” demands. we are gazorbnik. and we don’t “get it” that much either. we relate what we know about it. our ignorance is great and weighs heavily upon us. cheer up. we are given the strength we might come to need when we need it. strength to withstand the attacks against us if “they” knew who/what we are in a world conspiring in our benefit it would seem.
we are them.

how many universes can be balanced on the head of a pin?
and so much else that it sometimes stuns him with itself into fits of babbling idiocy.

yes?
yes.
all we can tell you is, yes.

hail victory.
more power to you.
good lucky luck.
sweet dreams.

?

mik erydo xo?

part 83 –

people crying.
everything is so sad for them.
this world and all its misery.
nothing can be done it would seem.
people hanging onto the edge.
some give up and let go.
some manage to climb back up.
mostly they just hang around hanging their heads.
and what do we do with them all?
we teach them gazorbnik – the most wonderful thing that ever is.
that’s the most best we can do for them and ourselves given the circumstances of the situations we find ourselves in.
nod your head if you agree.
now sleep… sleep… sleep…

may all your dreams come true.
whatever is your fancy or fear.
remember, everything in the universe is conspiring together for your benefit.
aren’t you just special?

the gods look down and smile on our endeavors.
keep on keeping on, people.
get it and enjoy it while we can whatever might come our way.
there’s some of us who believe vibrations attract like energy, positive or negative or otherwise.
that seems like it might be correct.
you choose.
we could not believe what we saw.
what was it?
it was incredible.
407

but then wouldn’t opposite vibrations and energy attract?
perhaps.
the clown wondering about this and other such whatnot as he types not p0em about nothing for the masses.
something is wrong.
do you know what it is?
is it the funny bunny?
we’ve been here before.
we’ve been everywhere before.
it becomes so much nonsense.
when has it never been nonsense?
kiss.

everybody asleep.
it’s the way of the world.
why stay awake?
it’s so easy to dream.
but the world has its way of pulling us back into it.
goddamn it.

the clown makes up some spaghetti for himself this evening listening to music he devises just to be strange best appreciated when high – or not.
communication mind to mind is a fantasy.
nothing works that way, or does it?
how would we ever know?
it’s funny becuz it’s true.
but nothing is funny anymore.
hahaha.

he loves the mystery of it all.
in the end he pleads ignorance.
he changes a light bulb.
11:11
\

he makes his bed and lies in it jumping for joy.
silly pumpkins all in a row against the wall, motherfuckers.
is this necessary?
perhaps not anyway.
11:11

enlightened and awake?
oh no, oh heavens no, hahaha.
we are idiots, don’t you see?
we are far from the truth of anything, just howl we like it.
born on bored among the others of this world we find curiously mysterious though it is plain as the nose on our face which we might only observe for ourselves into a mirror of secrets.
we mislead ourselves together constantly.
flimy flamy roger dodger.
we are tools and fools out of schools of wayward thinking about an apple falling from an apple tree much to our surprise we conclude there is nothing to see here so we move on.
let someone else employ rationalogic reason to it.
we fly by night.
we are not proud, we just accept it as matter of fact.

the guru master wanna-bes proudly boasting about their supposed realization.
who am us?
the darkness unfolding from our mouths with invisible light seen only by babes lost in the forests of nonsense entangling our hair without purpose.
crossing the same river twice we are laughing hahaha at the people of the burning flags opera upon the stage at the burning theater.
we have been done with it for decades easing down underneath the forbidden cities to comb through the graves for gold that we might spend to our physical pleasures.
this physical manifest world at the apex of all gone before to be destroyed by our greed and ignorance hahaha.

and merrily we go.
why should we do more or less/?
who do we command?
not even ourselves really, come to think of it.
french fry freddy evens the score in his dreams as the clown recollects it now for the time being what it is.

like anyone cares anymore to spin the wheels again one more time.
so many have given up.
the clown understands being tempted to sleep.
sleep your life away, then die.
who cares about anything else?

it’s medication time.
look at the pretty ponies.
what do we do now?
think about all that’s involved in our theory of everything.
the clown makes and eats a burrito.
the burrito could be a central component compulsion of our theory.
how does that work?
how do reflections work?
have some more vodka.
it’s all in the potato, baby.
it works by being – being a burrito at the moment before it’s eaten and swallowed entering the digestive process breaking it down into molecular whatnot for the cells of the physical body carried by the blood which many believe is holy and will do anything to keep it pure as they think it must remain.
wars have been fought over this.
then what’s left over of the burrito plus the waste of the body are turned into piss and shit and exit the body.
simple, yet complex as well.

so, what does this have to do with our theory?
it might not have anything to do with it but then again it might.
everything is connected and continuous moment by moment in space and time and all that.
our theory deals with the common and banal as well as the higher purpose of whatever.
gold and diamonds are trash, piss and shit is holy.
or – none of the above.
whatever we wish.
do you understand?
hahaha.
what’s to understand?

go on, have a nice day, baby.

ooga booga

part 81 –

sprinkling faerie dust all over the place.
watching it fall to the ground beneath the heel.
so much for that.
hahaha.
little do we know.

beware those among us who claim to know.
this time of false prophets and such.
what is there to know but peace, love, and understanding?
that will lead you where you want to go, yes?
while others beat the drums of war.
interesting times, indeed.

come all ye faithful.
come let’s doubt together.
we are tested with fire and hammer.
tra-la-la.

the clown typing not poem for the multitude of the great unwashed.
let this be a lesson to ya.
what?

who are we kidding?
this testament to our ignorance of all the others value and hold dear.
we want none of it.
let their greed lead them ever onward.
the greedy we shall always have with us.

and yet as a spaceship hovers nearby the clown thinks about how everything is conspiring for his benefit to guide him along on his chosen pathless paths for no reason but to be and become.
how many more times does this need to be repeated before it begins to somewhat make some sorta sense?
days repeating themselves each different.
every moment different, as the old song goes.
this realization may save what’s left of your life.

begin it again, though there is no beginning.
everything continues.
there is no inside.
there is no outside.
there aren’t any sides.
everything is infinity, though there is no infinity.
infinity as such cannot exist.
think.

a few thoughts the clown has come to realize through the fog of his self-imposed ignorance.
as dawn creeps up over the distant mountains.
coffee, cigarette.

to have a revolution we gotta break some eggs – the minds of the masses locked in tight to the official story.
tear them away.
make it difficult for the powers that be to offer an explanation contrary to reason.
let us think of ways to invent.

the clown sits back into the privileged luxury and leisure afforded him in these troubling times.
he doesn’t know why.
he should be dead in the street.
a forgotten corpse.
but he may get his turn yet.

he is positive/negative in his understanding of events around him near and far.
he perceives them as part of a scheme to keep the majority of us oppressed and obedient.
wave those burning flags, people.
your angry words proceed you.

the clown sits still at times waiting for it.
it is it.
it is never quite finished but continues forever from no beginning toward no end.
face it.

we understand all through our ever-changing (evolving?) theory of everything such as it is.
he makes and eats a pb&j sandwich for his breaking fast.
pigs on ice.
and it’s medication time.
11:11

if not for the exaggerations, lies, and name calling we might actually be able to get our shit together.
but…

people work out their own narrative, or buy into one that’s worked out for them, and they refuse to believe anything else.
we refuse to believe anything we don’t wanna and we don’t have to.
we’re different.
hahaha.

this world and universe and whatever else divinely inspiring and guiding him the clown tiptoes through minefields of eggshells trying carefully not to make a mistake.
but it happens.
but he is somehow protected from harm – so far.
gods love fools and watch out for them.
he doesn’t know why this must be.
he just observes it happening in his life.

how to get over ourselves in the meantime.
breathe in.
breathe out.
relax.

but he himself too gets all anxious about shit.
it’s a normal day for him to be.
all us people all hopped up over something or another.
bees in our bonnets.
ants in our pants.

it’s aliens.
they won’t leave us alone.
surprise.
and pissed off alpha-apes beating their chests.
how nothing has changed for millennia around the sun.
strange, yet all too familiar.
and it goes down the line from the top to the bottom – or from the bottom to the top?
what does it matter?

it’s all fake.
it’s all lies.
our heroes turn out to be businesspeople after all counting their hoards of $$$.
like that means shit to us.
it’s just sad to see others go wanting instead.
but this is the business of the world at large.
have at it, fuckers.

the spiritual life in the material physical world of illusions of reality in our minds.
don’t fight it.
allow it to play itself out.
enjoy the show, the endless drama of comedy and tragedy.
do we know which is what?
do we know when to laugh or when to cry?
waiting for the houselights to dim.

the end of the beginning.
the beginning of the end.
the continuing spinning of the wheels forever.

the doctor of space

x90

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
tangled hair.
tangled head.
it’s medication time.
what’s more to relate than that?
but continuing on anyway with typing out not poem sitting before the computer as if.
possibility.
there is everything to relate – never beginning, never ending.
as it was is will be here now.
we can count on that.
as we can count on i am.
i am here now?
who am us?
we are them.
whew.

expensive propositions for that which should be free.
walking around wounded beyond repair.
he paints his masterpiece awhile.

frying potatoes, brewing more coffee.
another cigarette.
no expression of individuality allowed.
everyone is equal, friend.

responsibility thrown into a meaningless void of comfy nothingness.
building up the military is an idea.
increasing social programs is another.
let’s all go to the beach is yet another.
shall we debate the meaning of the present tense?
we don’t havta if we don’t wanna.
just because.

mixed up confusion about the nature of reality as if it has one nature.
two or more.
everything describes everything.
gazorbnik is experiencing everything.
impossible?
improbable?
maybe.

the nuclear buttons.
kablooie, and then some.
shrug.
sigh.

who thinks this shit up?
not us.

we are them.
was is will be.
we ain’t the boss of nothing.
wouldn’t dream of it.
let them play their games of sacrifice and honor.
what do we care?
they don’t trust us about nothing anyway.
he sleeps sleeping the whole next day.

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
feeling heavy of thought like a head full of bricks.
thick as a brick in the wall.
wiped out.
it’s medication time.

everything is a mockery of itself it seems even especially when it pretends to be serious.
satire is truth.
everyone impersonations of themselves.
but this world seems to be where when it’s happening for some reason.
the drama and the trauma.
those who go along as if nothing were askew.
askew to what?
askew to itself?
everything as a dream.

who looks at this world too closely?
what good does any of that do for anyone?
you can write a book about it.
people could read it.
oh boy.
does that make us smart or stupid?
as we mosey along our own merrie way on pathless paths of our experience.
tally-ho.
the great adventure.
just to have an adventure.
what other reason is there?
what other reason could there be?

simulated adventure.
simulated experience.
simulated consciousness.
everything simulated.
it would seem to be as if.
mind stuff.
a mockery of itself – hahaha.
delightful.

it’s a hard world – knock on wood.
that from nothing is quite an accomplishment.
not so worlds composed from dreamy wisps of imaginations however idyllic they may be.
the best and worst of all possible worlds.
a world of love of self and $$$.
material possessions.
command and control.
and so on.

who woulda thunk it?
not us.
or maybe us, come to think about it.
no matter.
it’s all the same if or if not.
what changes is ourselves.
he lights another cigarette.

sailing through >>> interesting times by some means or another depending on which of us with our various diverse theories do we each choose to believe might be true for whatever reason or not.
is this common sense?
is this occult hoodwinking?
is this gods?
is it the monkey in the middle?
– what?
dig it.

MC5

peculiar instances of generalized odd behavior yet become news items across the interwebs and beyond.
hard rocking working people doing that thang-a-doodle thing.
action/reaction yin yang virtual fireworks displays on the bayside waterfront attracting quite the nightly crowds of tourists to the imaginary city where they’ve been told that it’s happening which it would appear so to be with all the staged events and activities going on around here otherwise sideways kinda to bring in the $$$.
the imaginary city is very expensive.
but everybody’s got $$$ in the imaginary city.
we’re all winners.
its golden walkways know no bounds.
everywhere everywhen the imaginary city is everything.
on with the show.
calling all clowns to the evacuation camps.
be ready.
he sleeps.

sitting at the counter at the diner with a toothache scribbling not poem into a notebook this rainy morning the abused sick starving neglected while the world is turning in the dark being lit by the lamp of the sun and all that elliptical business thereupon the emptiness we may feel during the passing of our living lives as he orders eggs and toast and juice continuing trying to think about anything relevant to add to our theory of everything none of which is relevant to anything else which can present some problems to the rationalogic minds begging at our doors with reasoned conclusions at their feet singing songs of sorrow for the masses who are perturbed by their misunderstanding developed in terms of their continued apologies for the grace of ignorance in keeping within make believe objects to worship smashed by the roadwarrior mindset crowd roaring into town taking what they want and need to get along in space and time no one thinks much about these days putting 2+2 together into cow with sparkling sprinkles of love everlasting for the moment we become aware of ourselves for a while dreaming about something forgotten which might be anything so he thinks about everything he can about everything cuz it’s fun and dandy making his head feel dizzy with it turning around around as a serpent swallowing its tail down a rabbit hole which would seem to some to be a logical way to go but he knows better by now dodging out in time not to be fooled again with useless information all around cluttering the stage of the burning theater where singers and dancers perform their tricks they have learned to memorize and mesmerize the wanting crowds gathered out of boredom with nothing else to do with their time.

it begins and ends with 0.
but 0 is not the beginning nor end as there is still always before and after 0.
everything continues.
or something like that.
there is a clue here for the few and in-between who have doubts about themselves enough to come realize what it might mean which it don’t mean nothing which might be the point of it being it as it itself for the whole universe to see flaming goodness and light attributed to an almighty god above it all on high through propaganda devised to force our minds to believe when such a thing is impossible once we make efforts to think about it if we wish to which he has felt compelled so to do to the exclusion of nearly everything else like leaders and parking meters and other so on that make incomprehensible noises through annoying noses he thinks out of all he thinks he can think about finding answers hidden in questions spoken by dogs barking flowers as is the usual nonsense we respond to on our way toward paradise unknown to anyone else anymore forgotten as we had touched it giving it benefit of the doubt.

he comes home.
he naps.

awakening.
typing out scribbled not poem transposing it from one reality scheme to another like lines of falling dominos tracing hypnotizing designs and snap crackle pop op zop stop laughing screaming in his head come out, come out, whatever it may be some loathsome bandito riding toward the sunrise as the hero who saves the day.
could we dream this?
why not?
he paints his masterpiece awhile or so.

everybody knows dinosaurs are a hoax.
we are too.
or are we?
whose propaganda do we… ?
mix and match in with our theory of everything included including everything in contradiction with everything else and/or not – perhaps.
may the saints preserve us when all else fails.
or something like that and then some and so on… !

twisted twisting rats.
memory replacement germs.
tricks of the trade to maintain power in this 21st century schizoid world.
exponential skyrocket curve.
hooray!?!

_0O0_
|||||||||||
the last time we met we had to bet on who would win and who would lose among us.
on a beach of an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
this ain’t over yet, baby.
the tide is turning?
we pick through the wreckage of our lives washed ashore laughing.
who will win and who will lose among us?
tea balls.
listening…

???

fuck it.
he lights another cigarette.
nobody wants to know nothing.
he dreams.
who does he trust?
who can he trust?
himself?
why is trust even an issue?
it shouldn’t be.
only in this fucked up world of our own making where there is nothing we can trust.
self-deprecating  honesty.
we are nothing to anyone.
we are nothing to ourselves.
nothing nothing nothing.
when there should be everything.
but he is dreaming about that.

he is dreaming all the time.
dreaming of being in this life he finds fascinating despite the agonizing frustration of it.
the material world of weight heavy upon him.
and he has heard the songs sung about the higher more refined ethereal astral other worlds and such where everything is light and easy.
if we follow the way.
the way people will show us for $$$.
hahaha.
he may be stupid but he’s not that stupid.
why shouldn’t he be the one who is given $$$?
he can think of no reasonable answer.
the enlightenment of greed and the rise to power.
va-voom!

this life has been a trip of awakening.
awakening on his own from what he could gather from whoever whatever sources he may have happened to come across from comic books to scripture.
it’s all based on the same basic human ideas and ideals.
variations of expressive forms.
through this diversity of information he has woven together his own ideas into our theory of everything some of which might be true – or not.
ideals of truth have little meaning for him – especially when there are so many of them that it is hard to keep track of them all.
he tries to understand them all into one grand unified idea of everything.
as if there could ever be any such thing as that.
why not?

it is the human psyche that thinks in terms of oneness as an ultimate ideal.
that is where we place god and heaven.
diversity is evil.
the confusion of hell.
but he doubts that.
it’s all just more duality which signifies to him that it is part of this false world we have been cast under the spell of in order to experience it in its fullness of being the best and worst of all possible worlds we could imagine being.
the appearance of 3d space and the sense of the passage of time being the minimum needed to be able to experience it – in theory.
and our 6 senses we detect all this information by to process it in a mind aura of a brain.
the 5 physical senses and the 6th sense of imagination.
the 5 tell us what everything in the world is, the 6th tells us what it means.
and collective mindscapes put together over generations of combined knowledge and fantasy and such that we individually judge to be true or false or whatever at our own risk.
the risk of being ostracized depending on what we might question or not.
we have ostracized them from our own exclusive group of me, myself and i.
they are too dull and stupid to understand our gazorbnik.
they cannot seem to be able to follow our irrationalogic.
they look at us blankly in obvious confusion.
they turn away and leave us alone.
that is our trick to living in solitude being able to think whatever might come to mind at any given moment.
we’re ok with them thinking we’re crazy if that is all they can understand about us.
we’re ok with them thinking we’re idiots and whatever other names they might call us.
as long as they don’t pick up sticks and stones to break our bones which they do from time to time.
it’s a delicate balance to find a place with them that is in but not in and out but not out.

love is a mythological emotion and SEX ain’t all it’s cracked up to be – the dada-ananda.

needless to say we have been successful in this regard of finding that balance more or less through our lives lived so far.
maybe not tomorrow.
maybe not today.
we shall see.
we each must find it for ourselves.
the only advice we have is to simplify not complicate your life.
the more you do that the more you will be able to do what you like.
but we love the complications so dazzling and exciting with thrills and chills galore.
that is the hook of this world.
that is how we become entangled with it that there seems no escape.
escape is within.
within can be anywhere everywhere.
and blah blah blah on about what we read in comic book somewhere.

we take everything we imagine might be and pass it through our reasoning to try to determine what’s what with it.
much of it is fantasy.
but what’s wrong with that?
humans live fantasy lives.
nothing is entirely real to us.
many of us have the sense it is perhaps  a dream.
it’s not just us.
it’s probably you too, eh?
or not.
a lucid dream of our creation out of our desires and fears commingling together into an appearance of a material reality we are obliged to obey to a certain extent of our choosing.

medication time.

to have come to understand everything we have personal experience of filtered through the culturally structured pardigms in our heads by nature and nurture and indoctrination.
we must come to decide what is relevant to us or not.
reality and truth have not been high on our list of what is relevant as it seems to be with others that they then foist upon us.
we endure this for our own peace of mind.
we do not wish to argue it with them.
we agree that they are right and we are wrong.
right and wrong are not high on our list either.
more duality.
but without duality nothing would exist it would seem to make sense to us.
how else is it to be perceived without the contrast duality provides?
it would all be monotone flat – dead – nothing.
whether that is still existence or not we let the learned philosophers debate for their $$$ we allot them for doing so.
it is an interesting question but we ourselves are too ignorant to answer it.
answers are another low priority item on our list of relevance.
the answer is a riddle.
the answer is never conclusive but goes on and on with everything else on and on continuing without beginning without end.
the finite is illusion.
so is the infinite.
everything is nothing.
nothing is everything.
so there.

but we live in a finite world unless we have the vision to see past those limits into infinity.
infinity disappearing into infinitesimal oblivion.
other worlds appear as possibilities that we might choose from.
the finite world is kinda like a home base where we can dream from.
or something like that.
though it does tend to become annoying with its distractions we get caught up in.
but many seems to find the finite world to be challenging and dive into it wholeheartedly to enjoy gaining victory over it – and over others whether they are active participants or not.
they care little about the consequences of their actions in regard to others.
they become psychopathic in their greed.
our only question about the world is why we who dream must tolerate these louts imposing themselves upon us.
but whatever – it is such.

to find what happiness we can in the world is indeed a challenge.
for us it is not found in the world but in what we imagine otherwise.
if we decide to see a unicorn walking down an aisle in a supermarket then that’s up to us.
who do we need to convince yes or no?
no one.
who has the authority to try to convince us yes or no?
no one.
just those who assume authority and manage to convince others that they have such who give them the power over themselves and give them all their $$$.
these are dangerous motherfuckers of whatever ilk they come from.
stay outta their way.
it’s a scam no matter who or what.

but they are the ones who have taken over this world and shaped it to suit their selfish greedy purposes.
they are the ones who war among each other causing great unrest and distress among the rest of us in this world.
this world is an insane asylum is near as we can figure that it makes sense.
we act out our madness to witness the results.
we are left to our own devices to work it out for ourselves.
we happen to enjoy being insane so it doesn’t matter.
or does it?
the gods will judge yes or no.
fuck the gods.
rise above.
kill them all.

kill anything and anyone who dares feel and act like that they are superior to us.
we wear the crowns of creation.
we are the dreamers.
without us there’d be diddly squat nothing but the void from whence we dream laughing screaming alone inside his head as he sits before the computer hunched over the keyboard cigarette in hand typing out a not poem manifesto report to the committee about our theory of everything.
his mind occupied as it is by angels and demons all making a ruckus of noise telling him what to do or not do that he is quite mad with it.
he finds and follows the quiet voice you have to relax and concentrate to be able to hear in all the turmoil.

he takes another toke.