17 -

provocative innocence.
world colored with cognitive dissonance.
the varied contradictions entailed into our theory of everything and then some representing the states of reality we perceive.
sitting before the computer typing out not poem he laughs a bit madly to himself.
the confounding absurdity and needless mystery.
the psychological drama of it all.
everything linked to computer networks.
but we still don't know what's going on.
it could be anything.
it could be nothing.

it's scam upon scam upon scam twisting turning every which way that could be.
nobody's up front about nothing, there's always the hidden agendas.
but everyone speaks the truth as they think it.
worms in our brains.

subversive propaganda headaches.
everything has been lies - or so we are told now to believe.
what were we to expect?
we'd be ok if this world weren't straight up nuts like it is.
and it's medication time.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o
later that same day -

awakening from a nap.
what's the use?
coffee, toke, cigarette.
he needs to clean the overdue cat box.
continuing with not poem he knows nothing about until he writes it following instructions.
calm down.
thinking about how we're scammers ourselves.
scamming being mad.
it's a living.
hey ho, off we go.

nobody worth nothing.
admit it.
not even a pimple on god's ass.
squeeze it, baby.
dog barking flowers of pus.

he sleeps.

fun town.
here we go.
a surprise in each moment yet the same as always the same.
which is the best?
which is the worst?
who can tell the difference?
we are so jaded and vague.
the post-postmodern hip set.
everything up to date and with it.
who is keeping score?
who follows the moods of fashion from one phase to another?
who listens to the voices in their heads?
are we in our right minds?
what does that entail?
questions with many possible answers from nothing to everything and then some and so on.
he wants to sleep all the time away from any dreams about reality as it seems to appear to us dolts without a clue to our name of mysteries otherwise in yonder lands of peace and plenty.

from everything to nothing each impossible to prove but in one's own mind and perception as he hangs on for a while longer according to time set at 0 the only time we might be sure of if anything or nothing at all which might prove true.
objectivity is a myth we have of perfection which we do not know.
he doesn't like being around people much.
he does not like them but would prefer they do what they do elsewhere would be fine by him.

the sorrows of everyone concerned which eliminates nearly everyone by now as we understand it thereby exempting ourselves.
we have it rough and easy sitting in a wading pool eyes closed against any and all obstacles we might strangely encounter.
ouch.
now what have we done?
the next new thing perhaps wanting waiting for release.
not a care in the world enough to make one gag.

the silence of breathing against the noise of the great machine chugging along sideways from predictability of formulated desire washing ashore on an island we imagine as our happy place in other spacetime location needed to exist as we perceive existence now and again wondering how everything might be possible or not tenderly forgiven whereas we are guilty of the slightest infraction against the common sense of decorum waving as a holy flag or some such.

a sense of treason in the land.
everybody pointing accusatory fingers shaking with anger.
we remain hidden as best we can eventually to be found out.
angels and demons in our heads.
everybody arguing what to do.
the same old older oldest story ever told.
humanity's conflict with itself.
11:11

when we come together in agreement on a common ground.
perhaps beaten into submission, perhaps willingly.
he lights another cigarette having just come home from getting supplies.
submission is always subversive.
fat black cat on windowsill.
abstract still life in action exactly as it seems to appear in what we experience as reality.
imagine that.

one with it.
it one with itself.
is this to be desired or to be avoided?
let's see a show of hands.
one hand clapping.
a slap in the face.

when we once and for all believed before the great awakening realizing what is and/or what is not what it is.
eye open to everything we each perceive differently it seems.
some see ghosts, others see rocket ships, and so on.
yet there appears to be something fundamental to everything.
something undiscovered as if not existing.
can there be not existence?
it would seem no one agrees with any given answer.
how much $$$ is invested in answers easily deceiving and destructive?
is that what we count on as being truth?
truth is a hoax.

can there be no truth without that itself being truth?
maybe we can call a truce among us.
a paradox it seems.
we scratch our heads.
we remember having to duck and cover when they split the atom and proved nothing.
the existential rise of thought.
straight to the moon with exponential motion fist to jaw.
have you seen the stars tonight?

16 -

general apathy.
don't gotta do nothing.
truth doesn't matter.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
and it's medication time.
sitting before the computer hunched over the keyboard typing out not poem cuz he ain't no poet about most anything that comes to mind included in with our theory of everything.
got that?

hanging on by a fingernail.
sanity is overrated.
everything is cliché.
1 < infinity < 1.
unhinged premise from which our theory unfolds itself to a certain extent perhaps not easily understood but by few and far between among us - those who are mad enough.
don't worry.
there is no other purpose to this than to confuse the issue all the more, the issue being our state of mind vs reality as such.
there's something wrong with us.
we do not know what it might be nor necessarily care.
that may or may not be true.
thrown into an incomprehensible world full of incomprehensible people like ourselves only stranger than fiction.
the discovery of nonsense to provide some humor to the situation.
how many people must die to save the others?
hahaha.

2+2=cow - a fundamental key principle to our theory.
everything is gazorbnik after that.
gazorbnik is exactly (almost) what it might seem that it is.
think about it - if you dare.

but there is no conclusion to any of it.
how could there be?
is there any conclusion to reality?
and what does reality have to do with it?
reality does what it wants from the culmination of all our desires and fears.
that's how some theories have it, true or not true.
theories included in with our ongoing theory along with all the rest of everything.
our theory full of contradictions generated by our differing opinions about what's what and what's not what.
what is what?
that is what we would like to know.
we do not seem to come to much of any agreement about it.
we'd rather argue and fight and wage war instead.
everyone must agree with us.
we will never agree with them.
this is what it seems we nearly all agree to.
so, what's the problem?
no problem with us.
we're just putting together our theory of everything.
don't mind us.
pretend we're not here.
that's something else everyone else seems to agree on.
a world without them.
a perfect world.
we are them.

what we are beyond being them is irrelevant.
no one wants to know.
we are not useful to them - the others.
we don't want to be useful to them - being used by them.
in which case we are to be eliminated.
end of that story for now.
he gets up to take out recycling and empty the dishwasher.
then it's time for a nap.

awakening.
a cigarette after a peanut butter sandwich.
he knows he is being unreasonable - but so what?
he knows he is being irrational - but so what?
refuse.
resist.
let's go crazy.
he gets up to go out to get the mail.
wanting an uncomplicated life.
boring but never bored.
being bored is for losers.
being boring means most people go away and leave him alone.
he's got nothing.

they urged him to go become a success.
so he did.
a success at being lazy and indifferent.
coasting with the minimal amount of effort he could get away with.
but not making much $$$.
so he is not a success after all.
a broken down bum living off the state.

0 is where it's at - where it's all happening that happens to happen.
0 consciousness - the goal of many.
0 being the center of everything everywhere everywhen.
if there is a god, god is 0.
why not?

ever-present, ever-aware, ever-powerful.
what 0 and god have in common - or not.
not that it matters.
it doesn't make $$$.
what makes $$$ makes sense, everything else is nonsense - confucius (aka guru jeff aka the dadananda).
see how that circle goes around?

everything is circles inside the machine never repeating though seeming to be repeating again and again and again to the unpracticed eye open the other eye closed.
poke its eye out.
everything is circles inside his head.
a beam in his own eye.
lost are the prophets, their time has come.
what a waste of our time is the consensus of opinion.
not that it matters.
what's done is done.
we are done.

  15 -

it's medication time.
nothing he thinks is true and/or real.
how is he supposed to know?
starting with 0 he leaps to infinity.
is that how it's done?
the mythical mystical properties of it.
infinity stretches in and out reaching a point of becoming random chaos seeking toward oblivion and beyond.
the mysteries of the occult with runic flavor for some.
old school of the gods.
reaching for the jewel of the lotus for others.
and the vengeful gods of law and order and their rebellious adversaries for others still.
all in a hat.
imagine that.
victory is ours!

a dialogue between past and future.
here we are now, the year 0.
flip a coin into a fountain, make a wish come true.
everything is on/off at some point.
everything is on/off throughout.
heads or tails?
which is what?
so many possible options on the theme.
too many questions without rational explanations nor meaningful answers.
this must not be.
decide, on or off.
be quick like a bunny.
who will notice the difference?

the finite within infinity.
infinity within the finite.
and all that jazz.

not for public consumption.
can't have everyone sitting around doing nothing thinking this shit, can we?
of course not.
for those of us randomly selected to proceed wasting our time imagining this foolishness for ourselves to amuse us in our madness.
the error of our ways and means.
those who do not win the race but who wander slowly away while no one's watching.
this could have many various meanings for anyone.
meanings to kill and die for.
etc.

noon o'clock.
phony baloney.
abolished defenders of the faith of the sky fathers.
nevermore.
the faith of the earth mothers prevails.
evermore.
should it be?
perhaps, or not.
he naps.

awakening to life.
life worth living?
yes/no/maybe.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
penguin!
it's medication time.
frisbee!
it's popeyes chicken time.
brawk!
medicated and fed he wonders about everything flowing through his mind.
the desperation many live with.
the abused sick starving neglected children of all ages including nearly most all of us.
who is not?
and so on.
___________
morning -

the trash guy comes around driving the trash truck and collects the trash.
it's always something.
what an interesting world it is if all the conspiracies are correct.
entangling beyond comprehension - or that is what they want us to believe.
mass fractured consciousness that chases itself down rabbit holes.
more coffee, another cigarette.

every game in town is rigged to favor the house.
smart business practice 101.
business is not a charity.
however, charity is a business.
business does not take sides, it merely seeks opportunity.
identify self-interest.
go.

cosmic vibes, baby.
everything everywhere everywhen.
11:11
radiating to and from in all dimensions in all directions within and without sideways.
it's all too much.
when is it ever enough?
when are we ever satisfied?
beat it with a stick until it's dead.
use our imaginations.
don't become confused even when you are confused.
do you know what to do?
if in doubt, don't follow instructions - get the hell outta here now.
a little trick of the trade.
the trade of madness.
madness that is best left to professionals.
we are them.
___________
tomorrow -

famished of thought sitting at the counter at the diner onstage in the burning theater being alone with old friends gone to seek their fortunes elsewhere while he scribbles not poem into a notebook about what he does not know nor probably ever will as if it matters or not.
he knows i am and that may be enough for now beginning without beginning ending without end as thoughts come to mind vague fleeting impressionistic.

wanting to understand everything about everything to no avail but to continue observing experiencing what information is available at the moment here now.
people walking by the front windows as if this is all real which it may be or not.
how do any of us know for certain?
but we act as though it is real since it causes pain if you don't.
nevermind - enjoy it while it lasts whatever the fuck it is.

ducks in a row groupthink conformity and never fitting into the master plan if there is any.
good riddance.
stumble bumble along wandering wondering pathless paths toward endless horizons in illusions of disregarded uniformity.
he keeps a rock in his pocket reminding him of something he has forgotten.
oh well.

a cold morning of gray dawning light like mornings before washed with all night acid seeking breakfast before bed and sleep.
memories of youth stupidly abused as if enlightenment might appear around the next bend but was not as he had imagined it would be immersed in cosmic glowing light.

eyesore dilemmas regretfully aware of self discovery and shaky hands greeting the lost to themselves.
what is the worst that could happen now?
a dream shattered like china plate laughing outta our minds.
somehow we have avoided this.
a deepening abyss forgiven without cause like it or not which he isn't sure of either one to make up his mind in the approaching darkness.

in-between consciousness upward downward spiraling into real and unreal worlds twirling around in his head in motion with everything at once forever is the way it seems to come about in the moment passing now through the eye of a needle as if this could ever be as it is.
but he is mad as a crumbled cookie so it would seem perfectly reasonable to him.

on the eve of destruction we decide to go to the beach to watch waves coming and going to synch our minds back together eating hot dogs from the vendor on the boardwalk underneath which people fuck the day away while we are thinking about everyone who have lost everything once upon a time as bomber jets fly overhead reminding us again of the situation.

emptiness surmounts all reason why not become an afterthought with squirrel in the brain we are senseless in our domain protectorate dream mechanics driven sloping sloth toward lazy latitudes bending across withstanding refuge as impossible possibility surprise everyone concerned gather around to slaughter the beast with 16 heads with tongues afire speaking mysteries in riddles only the insane understand who refuse to reveal the secrets known to them for dangerous reasons.

copycat killer freebase face protruding through a wormhole disguised as a goat squawking banal segments of snow drifts glazing the ceiling drawn into a cartoon of ranch dressing as the game plays out among the disciples of the lord satan laughing all the while in interesting formulations of their flesh without sin tricking unbelievers into dropping their pants to join the parade outta town where rainbows end.

he packs up his bag and comes home.

14 -

white butterfly flutters by.
a good or evil omen?
one might think one but it may be the other.
it might be neither.
it might be both.
think about the possibilities of not knowing.
think about apple pies cooling on the windowsill.
do you remember?
have you possibly forgotten?

a toke or two on the peace pipe.
finding the groove.
cruising altitude.
more coffee, another cigarette.
objects of desire.
lost paradise.
being here now contemplating our navels.
ahoy there!

boring, but never bored.
sitting at the computer continuing typing not poem about whatever about our theory of everything.
streams of consciousness.
thoughts pinned on a bulletin board.
are there possible connections or coincidences?
strings weaving reality.
reality being relative.
where when is the objective observer?
as if there could be except outside beyond space and time which how does it then exist?
other dimensional planes more refined less tangible unknown to the sensory world.
dimensions above and/or below inhabited by angels and demons and whatnot.
big deal.

everywhere the center of everything.
0 dimension all else radiates from.
the center location of the universe in the center of our brains.
or something like that.
it can be explained any number of different ways and means possible.
nevermind.

we are the crown of creation.
out of the muck and mire the jewel of the lotus.
a fabrication of imagination.
when we see it we will believe it.
but that is not the way the wise guys tell us.
we must believe to see.
as they gladly take our $$$.
hot damn.

but we the few and far between are the dreamers.
who knows who?
no one.
we are anyone anywhere anytime.
as such we are touched by madness.
we dance on a head of a pin.
if there is a god it is i am.
but there is no god.
there is nothing but an absurd universe we are thrown into for no discernible reason.
make of it what you can.

we have made for ourselves a comfortable niche providing all our simple needs to observe the world in all its glorious folly.
no one might notice our passing as it should be.
we are easily ignored without the others knowing they are doing so.
they are busy with their dramas occupying every thought every moment.
we cannot think of any reason to interrupt them.
everyone wandering about the stage of the burning theater improvising a play of habitual routines to pass the allotted time they have.
we are thus amused.

to become rich with power.
to command through one's will.
subservient to no one.
watch them struggle and fight amongst themselves to attain this position for as long as they might be able to maintain it.
and everyone else all the way down to the bottom.
it is the nature of the beast within us all.
somebody's gotta be the boss.
as long as we are willing to be bossed around.
o' happy day.

coffee and coffeecake.
a toke, another cigarette.
charging the phone for tomorrow never dies.
people wondering worrying about the state of the world.
fuck it, baby.
let it rot where it falls.
let it decompose and vanish.
breeding with life living off of it.
like waves of a sea.
continuous horizon toward infinity.
waves turning on and off along sequential locations on a curve creating waves.
it's every which way, baby.
perceive it any way one might want to or need to.
want before need?
need before want?
flip a coin into a well make a wish come true or not.
ker-plunk.
satisfaction is not guaranteed ®.
you're on your own now, baby.
come and get it.

it wants you.
it needs you.
it loves you.
it hates you.

it wants to be you.
to become you.
slime all over you.
immersed in you.

seek after the mysteries.
seek after thyself.
seek hither and thither and yon.
no path is the true path.
wander pathless paths.
explore discover understand.
or not.

discipline ourselves enough to enter into the occult realms for sale in the lobby of the burning theater after the show.
realize the possibilities.
recognize our will.
steal what suits our purpose and amusement and continuing on our merrie way toward oblivion and beyond.
dig it.

another cigarette.
the ignorant and loyal of all sides being told what they have wished to hear since forever.
the long and winding road.
excitement everlasting - until overtaken by boredom without mercy.
a deserted place in immortal time spent skipping stones on a dreadful lake.
sigh...

(to be continued...)

13 -

saved and deleted.
our sacrifices have no limitations except void where prohibited by law.
rainbow alley moon.
what is written in the good book of flies.
who can understand it?
who has ever really tried?
it remains on book shelf where everyone can see and sigh.
but that is of no consequence becuz it probably isn't true - or not.
the easy exploration of encountering propaganda in your pants.
goat gods.
political pig and butterfly.
the science of nuking a mini pizza without fits of untoward confusion beset upon us.
unexpected and inappropriate or inconvenient.
take your pick.
a staged appearance of divining occult hee haw.
can you take it?
why do you weep?
make magick happen.
no one has to know but you which witch are you.
hot dandy.

flash until tomorrow sitting at the counter at the diner in from the rain scribbling not poem into a notebook triple mocha at hand wondering about the millions of bees they are killing with their convoluted logic denial at war with nature when it is themselves to blame he laughs about cuz there ain't nothing else for the common idiot to do while the greedy rule the world.
flabbergasted epiphany all of suddenly at once fading fast back into the gray dim.
something like nothing.
something like everything.
cheesecake.
cobweb mind uneasy treetop predicaments random consciousness being here now for no particular reason.
to experience.
to feel.
to think.
to wonder.

leftover nightmares crawling toward the doors of perception locked against the intrusion into seductive occult ceremonies devised to make $$$ for the few at the expense of the many as is usually always the case with everything as it should be since the masses do not understand subtle objectives but worship noise at large the louder the better.
he don't know what everyone tells him he ought to know which is ok with him cuz he sees them all not going nowhere he wishes to go anywhere without them being around all smart ass and shit like they are no matter what.
sketches of skewed reality fantasy into nevermind thing limited consciousness happening words like ice picks formulating redundant ideas of fear unknowing rebuke from masters of ignorance pride falling on their faces putting on robes dragging across the floor waiting for inspiration.
this is nowhere else it might happen to be fighting against ourselves.

lovely mittens scatterbrained rambling nonsense in an attempt to for a consensus of thought forming a plan of escape driving rhythms proceed toward broken mirrors arching overhead along the speedway searching for anything to bend the mind from itself to the extent of whatever he knows limited by feeling unconcerned about knowing anything as not much interests him much at anytime the circus comes to town or whatever else might be bored with conversations about the absurd which has come to overtake him as it will be now so much is meaningless to him observing from a distance of mind as others pride themselves to be corrupting influences just to be so laughing at nothing he understands to well to be amused except with certain sly grin as he imagines torturing them slowly to death but why bother when he could be sleeping.

farting profusely once outside the door to smoke thinking about how to get rid of all these mindless stupid people programmed automatons they've become if not always being.
he knows others have felt similar feelings of disgust.
what to do?
he doesn't know but to close eyes and breathe cycling rhythm releasing him from worldly concern in a moment.
thrown away into the world perhaps by angry gods all the time at their mortal creations blaming them for their own divine shortcomings.
it becomes a very old thing.
he returns inside gathering his stuff and coming home to nap.

12

^
^^
^^^
^^^^

hotcakes on the moon.
hot cum oozing from lovers in fields of grass.
hot apple pie.

hair.
squaresville.
absurd emptiness.

fluttering flocks of exquisite rascal radical bassoons honking furiously at no one in particular this fine drizzling evening on easy street soon to be foreclosed and cleared away to make room for high rise parking structures for those inept creatures so inclined chosen at random to win big, baby.
this could be it.
this could be anything real or imagined.
beware.

shit fuck piss.
bizarre jack happening thing stumbling before the fall of civilization as we know it and remember it well for the time being while generations forget the whole damn thing coming and going along through overgrown ruins of its demise laughing all the way with the slaughter of consciousness they leave behind on 10th avenue without quite knowing how come this has become their mission beyond repair of spectacles adorning the adoring faces who have come to life once more to haunt the empty cemeteries looking for trinkets of treasure anyone might have overlooked before them sideways and kept on ticking like spiders on acid dreaming of becoming more than they are willing to ask for from superpowered monsters creeping crawling inside out from now and then we walk by the old abandoned corporate headquarters glowing pink from their judgment of themselves found it lacking the depth of soul to continue on as before in the heyday of their empires gone to waste slither slather muscle aching archenemies locked in cages boastful of their enterprising deeds now mislaid down by the river heaving its guts up in full raging hysterics that is not a pretty sight to be seen by anyone in tender secret hidden gardens abundant with pleasures of pain once you get in you can't get out - huzzah hurrah.
those who remain oblique to certainty yet absorbing truth-like nourishment from bowls of corn flakes to keep them from wildly masturbating their days away with futile efforts forthwith the damnation of their elders rocking the boat gently down the stream toward a better tomorrow of waste not want not thinking in glorification of rainbows never seen before physics has the answer to our dreams spent lazily hollowed against the wall of doubt succumbed forbidden recitals in moonlight now the sun has gone goodbye trembling afraid of future sorrows cascading upon the dirt generous behind our ears we could grow potatoes our mothers would tell us with laughter at our willingness to misbehave when the tough get going of which we will never belong.
he sleeps.

awakening late morning.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
that's the ticket.
continuing not poem for whatever reason cuz he don't need a reason just obsessive compulsion.
sitting at the computer gazing out the window at the wet world outside from last night's rain.
a few cars and trucks are driven by in and out of here.
it's medication time, folks.
take 'em if ya got 'em.
good luck.

spin the wheels one more time.
let fortune have its hand.
pay attention.
nothing is again the same ever.
you don't need a microscope or telescope to perceive that.
the naked eye will suffice well enough to pick up a clue.
clue to what?
a clue to our own madness such that it is thinking topsy turvy around around we go and so on and on.
click start with our minds.
everything with our minds.
minds expanding.

this is of no nevermind to these kids of the future.
hooray for them not plagued with doubts, yes?
comfortably obedient.
driven to excellence.
just like in the dystopian stories he used to read for fun.
here it is.
or not?

or not how it used to be but how it is.
not like being naked in the streets.
we're still working on it, don't worry.
it's a secret.
you're not supposed to know.
it'll be a surprise.

(to be continued...)