25 -
___________
\/\\\\\//\\//\/\\\///\
*** *** *** ***
BLIX...

dream radiations.
listening to the opposition on the other side of our world in fear for their lives.
unnoticeable permutations within.
eggs.
nudie.
room 101.

desire.

:-:-:
sitting before the computer hunched over the keyboard typing out not p0em.
he puts out a cigarette.
not p0em 99% fiction.
made in usa.
everything for what it's worth.
head bashed in.
everyone against everyone else.
no rules.
it's come as you are - come as you have become.
no exceptions.
nature takes its course among us separating wheat from chaff in the soul threshing machine.
each of us torn from ourselves.
winner takes all.

all the gods it seems are pissed at us disobedient errant children.
never do what we are told.
we gotta measure up or tossed back into the heavenly fire to be forged again.
god's every own perfection.
this is the joke?

and the not god of science with just logical reasoned rules and regulations to follow carrying their own reward and punishment living a poetic life will not endure.
how to make others obey and behave themselves like everybody else.
the same game.

he is not impressed by the others or any of their supposed accomplishments.
what goes up must come down.
he watches it all, amused.
everything uncertain as it goes.
comic book dream seductions.
rats on faces.
the spread of rumors worldwide.
be careful what you think.
is everything a lie?
commanding from a hill of beans.
nonetheless, there they are being boss in change of everything anyway.
it gets old and tiring by now.
but people still believe there is a promised land we can be led to.
without leaders we are aimless wanderers lost in a wilderness.
that is what they want us to believe.
but those of us who wander along pathless paths are not lost as it might seem.
is this the true way?
every way is the true way - guru jeff.
that can't be right, can it?

every possibility is denied as being false.
when will we learn to disagree?
but there are points upon which others feel we should all agree.
a rock is a rock, for example.
but even that carries its doubts.
a philosophy of doubts.
a philosophy of indifference.
a philosophy of cruelty.

break free of narrative.
open season.
raging rape of the drug addicts.
daisy sunshine rainbow unicorn happiness.
here we go again.
plausible deniability from deep inside undisclosed locations.
there is always narrative.
ludibrium fantasy.
truth propaganda any way you want it.
let it sing to far off shores.
surrender to the waves of energies forthcoming everlasting.
work it, baby.
what's on tv?

everything in its place in space and time even when it is where it's not supposed to be.
and everything makes sense - just not to us.
not no more.
the golden days of yesteryear when all fit in together as it was allowed to be without question.
questions for which there are no answers for - ha!
questions that only make us crazy.
questions best left silent.

our theory of everything is riddled with questions.
it may be possible that everything is nothing but questions.
but what sense does that make?
why does it have to make sense?
what is sense?
a feeling that something is the case.
he should have maybe paid more attention.
but he never really felt like it.
he preferred life in a dream.
reality didn't make much sense to him - a feeling that something is not quite right is the case.
false illusion.
and who what weaves this illusion?
himself?
another?
happenstance?
he doesn't know.

he could be lost but he is here now.
what other place and time is there to be?
everywhere everywhen is here now, baby.
don't you forget it.

the evil demon.
but why evil?
why a demon?
the good angel playfully playing enlightening tricks.
or no one or nothing but himself - i am.
i am playing tricks with itself for its own amusement.
life's not fair.
balance out of balance.
shattered images in the maze of mirrors.
what else is he to think?
a goat in a tree.
a goatee on a knee.
how wonderful it can be.
more cowbell.

more coffee, another toke, another cigarette.
smooth groove.
pet the kitty.

JOIN US

WE ARE THEM

24 -

indestructible visions.
corrupt actuality.
drunk again.
it's so easy to fail and fall down and out here now with us.
life's not so easy on easy street, is it?
it's nothing to do with nothing.
it's not what it seems.

but whatever... sitting before the computer typing out not p0em for the masses about our theory of everything and such, he blows his nose.
it's medication time.
coffee and english muffin with peanut butter.
a cigarette.

a demon and an angel telling him what to do which he ignores as much as possible.
awake at the butt crack of dawn.
when all else fails spin the wheels one more time.
watch them go.
what will they bring us to this time around around?
the same indifferent world as last?
he doesn't mind.
he is just as indifferent toward it.
he observes its inhumanity toward itself.
he laughs though he is frightened.
how silly it is.
a funhouse ride.
ooo - scary.
pet the kitty.

more coffee, another cigarette.
what choice does he have?
what choice does he ever have?
all he is influenced by for good or evil intent.
he doesn't know which is what.
he does as little as he can get away with.
not let his karma act for him.
whatever that might do or not do if anything.
he has had little interest in this world remembering dreams of other worlds.
is he dreaming this one?
what does it mean?
is this a lesson to be learned or is it meaningless?
is he thinking about it too much? - not enough?
what does it matter?
enjoy the show.

he'll leave this world thinking, what the fuck was that?
and soon he may forget it altogether sending it back to oblivion from whence it came.
a minor glitch in the program.
he pities those of the world, rich and poor alike.
such misery they create and endure in the name of their gods.
nothing he can do about it but try not to add to it as much as he can get away with - and so on.

sex object nuclear warhead.
mr. jones raga in blue.
the abused.
the sick.
the starving.
the neglected.
who does this not include?
not us.
we are them.
sorta...
?

as a spaceship hovers nearby he continues on with not p0em.
it is dark now.
dark as night.
narcissistic attitude adjustments.
we will tell you what everything means.
you will believe it or not.
everything goes wrong at some point though what is right or wrong to everything?
everything is the gestalt of every thing.
or something like that.

an assemblage of order and chaos in conjunction with one another.
if it makes $$$ it makes sense, everything else is nonsense.
listening to devil music what the people wanna eat to the beat.
everything is crazy, baby.
we are crazy - ooo-haha.
another toke makes everything a-ok.
just what they want us to think and feel.
feeling is believing.
nasty.

everything a dream?
many believe it.
we shall see.
french horns playing some old time whack-a-doodle.
he sleeps.


___________

sitting at the counter at the diner scribbling out not p0em into a notebook between despair and glee neither he decides to have anything to do with but to aum in the middle of doubt awhile with matted hair on his head thinking back on the unproductive life he's lived quite with nothing that has survived to this day that he got away with but his life is not what material accomplishments he might create to glorify himself but only what's in his head as he gets up to get a lemon lime sida from the fountain bringing it back continuing with not p0em which is sorta supposed to be about our theory of everything and such but that all goes out the window at times we cannot determine what to agree on or what with the theory itself in a quandary of contradictions with little if anything holding it together as seems to be a model of the realities we perceive blinking in our delightful confusion while everything does its tricks like puzzles we need to unpuzzle for our entertainment in an eternal moment appearing here now is all we can state about it (it is it) until we continue venturing forth into the unknown which seems is what our minds are designed to do unless we hold onto dogmas of every ilk in trepidation hesitating on the brink of discovery.
the dogma of gazorbnik experienced by use of meta-schizophrenic science* extending forever all inclusive of everything real and imagined if there is a difference between them which there may or may not be depending on what we choose to believe at any given moment through non-linear propulsion** leading us onward zigzag crooked pathless paths.

*Meta-schizophrenic - meta: occurring later than or in succession to; situated behind or beyond; later or more highly organized or specialized form of; change; transformation; more comprehensive; transcending; used with the name of a discipline to designate a new but related discipline designed to deal critically with the original one.
 - schizophrenic: a psychotic disorder characterized by loss of contact with the environment and by disintegration of personality expressed as disorder of feeling, thought, and conduct.

Science - the state of knowing; knowledge as distinguished from ignorance or misunderstanding; knowledge attained through study or practice; a department of systematized knowledge as an object of study; something that may be studied or learned like systematized knowledge.

** Non-linear - non: not; reverse of; absence of; lacking the usual characteristics of the thing specified.
-linear: of, relating to, or resembling a line; involving a single dimension; of, relating to, or based on linear equations or linear functions.
Propulsion - the action or process of propelling; something that propels. propel: to drive forward or onward by means of a force that imparts motion; to urge on.

then he decides to think of something else different.
he is stumped.
what actually is different than anything else when their differences are similar familiar to us if we think about it or decide not to for whatever reason we may believe otherwise screwed into our heads by the social machines driven by nature and nurture?
sipping a hot triple shot mocha wondering about whatnot about everything drifting through his mind sorta seeming sideways at times.
but what does he know?
not much as has been previously stated along the way of everything twisting turning at once and for all wave our flags burning up on the hill for all to see and bend over and salute as is fit and proper so to do.

gazorbnik just about sums it up save for a few loose threads which according to some theories the wise guys make up are the roots of the known universe.
maybe so.
again, what does he know?
he knows to get by being a lazy good-for-nothing bum while others rush around creating sustaining destroying the world as it should be as it is.
the ongoing process of transformation.
the grind grinds us down until we drop dead forgotten and forgetting.
perhaps there should be more but there is not, not that we know about but many theories abound around true or false there is only one way of knowing - die.
scribbling onward toward an absolute vague point of meaninglessness which need not concern us much unless we are the worrying sort upset by the absurd as many seem to be clinging to some sort of belief or another as it seems to suit us as we will it to become which maybe it does and maybe it does not as it suits itself.

the crazies are out and about with some coming into the diner which is ok as long as they more or less behave, don't spend too long in the bathrooms, and pay.
just like real life, baby.
whoever thought that up?
the idiots.
no free lunch except for those who can weasel it for themselves if they can.
there are many ways that can be devised.
work?
who needs that shit?

what a world where you gotta beg, borrow, and steal in some form or another to survive and perhaps enjoy it somewhat if we can.
the world works against us.
the earth works for us but it has been enslaved by the greedy taken for all it's worth and more until now it's dying perhaps at the point of no return.
but the earth as damaged and crippled as it is will survive us as we die off to heal itself once we're gone with our destructive nature.
it a dream turned nightmare by our own actions as we do not know to leave enough alone for our own good.
but fuck that.
there is always more even if we need to go to other planets to get it.
we have ignition... we have liftoff... go go go...

back from getting supplies sitting at the counter ordering fries.
not pies.
the universe of light - whatever that might be.
we know some of the rules it seems to behave like but not necessarily its nature.
we know where it goes but not what it is.

he packs up his shit and comes home to nap awhile.
___________

23 -

hello?
anybody home?

why do we doubt it?
the absolute silence.
no communications.
oh well.

surrogate thinking feeling anything but reality.
this simulation situation.
a fly on the wall relaying all available information.
hope on a rope they choke on the data onslaught that becomes meaningless in its scope.
truth has no business here.
what truth?
the paradoxical truth of stating there being no truth?
are we wrong?
how can we be right?
there is no right or wrong.
there ain't no nothing.
it's medication time.

everybody has a story untold of fortunate misfortunes and vice versa otherwise of life and living.
expert opinions prescribing solutions.
there are no solutions without further problems.
get real.
more coffee, another toke, another cigarette.
when does this we experience as reality begin in ongoing continuing being (was is will be)?
pineal insights.
corruption of the world.
grease the wheels.
the world is corruption, that's the point.
everyone out to make it rich.
some do, overwhelming most don't.
the struggle builds character - of a murdering sex maniac more often than not kept hidden away eating inside the soul.

11:11
watching a clock time seems eternally slower a moment taking forever never stopping until entropy has the final word.
no surprise.
a certain sorrow to it.
goodbye, cruel universe.
it's been a blast, but the show is over.
the burning theater is cold ashes, scattered by winds, dissolved by rains
back to 0.
not even void abyss.
but why worry?- we will be no more.
unless...

he laughs.
why is everything so terribly funny?
is it him?
has he lost his moral marbles?
what else should he feel?
what are the rules?

those claiming and arguing they can set things right if we just follow them and cheer along.
many various diverse differences of opinions about that.
whenever will we get our shit together?
a hard rain's been falling for quite some time now.
yep.

are we the first or the last?
where are we in this grand parade in circles all the time?
is any of it relevant to what?
everything relative to itself relative to radiant vibrations of peace, love, and understanding everywhere everywhen.
get it?

is it supposed to make sense?
what making sense does that mean?
play it on shuffle.
sing along on psychic astral zing planes aplenty upon creative discovery.
zooom... away.
but not really.
everything is here now by remote control someplace else another time.
moments waxing and waning.
he is such a doofus herp-a-derp.
hee-haw, baby.
and how!
grab that chainsaw, and go!

nine inch nail in the eye.
ooo...
the taste of love taking itself so seriously.
so does the CIA contemplating navel.
he sleeps.

(to be continued...)

22 -

awakening.
it's medication time.
painting pretty pictures of ugly things growing on faces of everyday unsuspecting peoples at large.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
group grope, baby.
damage control in the big fat pink limousine.
leaves blown all over the street.
quack-a-doodle.
sometimes everything seems just weird with a beard.
everybody telling us to wake up cuz everything is illusion.
sure thing.
he likes to sleep and dream instead enwrapped within comfy blankets of ignorance.
dream on, baby.

NSA code puzzles.
2+2=cow.
particular individual experiences nailed to the door of consciousness.
no pain, no gain - motto of humanity with cruel intentions toward itself.
we almost have it figured out, maybe - or not.
another cigarette.
it's a constant changing hydra-headed riddle of riddles.
it's difficult to not being mad - or to keeping our madness within realms of plausibility.
dig?

is everything ultimately singular?
everything reduced toward 1, or elevated toward 1. - 1 being infinitely unreachable.
yet it is infinitely diverse it would seem as well.
who can tell the difference?
the discerning wise guys claim knowing all this and more.
perhaps so.
we feel it with our own experience.
going for the gusto.

what victory is truth being a victory over ourselves once we come to realize there is nothing else.
a terrible scheme to everything.
bombs falling on children.
but is it real?
the leisured luxury of being able to ask that question.
the thrills and chills to maintain established order.
protect us from ourselves.
everything is going to become a whole lot worse.
yahoo.

sitting before the computer continuing typing out not p0em for the masses as if they care or are even aware of it, he doesn't know.
it's none of their business anyhow.
it's nothing to a dead horse.
he chuckles to himself and his imaginary friends who have stood by him over the years.
he is glad he is mad.
should he weep and moan, or groove and dig?
supposedly unlike the others who claim sanity while they destroy the planet.
hmm...

the morning dark gray rain seesawing playfully with bright brilliant sunlight.
which is good and/or evil?
nature running its balanced amoral course while we decide which will be right or wrong.
he doesn't know right or wrong, does he?
sure he does, in his gut like everyone else.
pure and simple such that all might understand and believe in truth everlasting.
nanotechno clouds falling in the air.
breathe in, breathe out.
new and improved developments for us to be better behaving citizens of the world as if that is a dream come true we might have for ourselves loving our freedom doing whatever the fuck.
freedom is not what we demand for ourselves but what we allow for others - guru jeff.

they come in their big trash truck to collect the trash.
hooray - our heroes.
is total freedom total chaos?
is chaos free?
many would think so but they are dead WRONG.
think about it.

but nor is order free, as many others would believe.
but what is order, what is chaos?
he doesn't understand these imaginary things others imagine.
how come?

he sees order/chaos as one in and part of the other.
action/reaction yin yang boomerang thing.
or something like that - or not.
all duality is the same.
everything is duality.
duality is 1.
duality is the result of changing.
on/off, etc.
without changing nothing exists.
simple as that - ha!

but who wants to think about that shit and the ilk?
madness is best left to the professionals.
everyone else needs to have the presence of mind to be a productive citizen of some sort.
work it, baby.
not us, though we are productive as well.
we produce madness which the way this society scheme is structured is a necessary component to it.
x-amount of people need to be mad for it to work.
surrounded by idiots on one side or another.
it all makes him wonder.
people who do not understand.
a cigarette and then a nap.

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
senseless violence.
everything that goes wrong.
everything that gets lost.
everything that is useless.
fundamental points of confusion.
sweating hunger with tongue lashing.
bend over and salute.
worry - hello?
are we here yet?

21 -

5 days food.
r sitting at the computer ignoring the fat black cat him hunching over the keyboard typing this episode of not poem for the masses about our theory of everything and so forth and sundry.
he yawns.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
the masses.
will we ever get it together on our own?
some of us have things down diverse as ourselves.
most of us are fucked.
live in the woods until the shit storm is over.
he digs a groove in the air for the moment passing eternal from beginning to end of this finite universe boundless in its scope according to the wise guys who tell us so with their big science.
a boot stomping on a human face, forever.
promises, promises.
let's get this show on the road.
it's all in his head onstage at the burning theater on easy street in the imaginary city on an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
where do we go from here?
what do we want?
more?
more what?
more everything.
he farts and burps.
and less of some things.
and less of some people.
we are them.
more coffee.

we digress toward a point of understanding coming soon to [THIS SECTOR].
and old joke by now.
don't overload it.
put it in your pipe and smoke it.
death is just about the only thing left at this point.
shaking street.
a swiss and avocado sandwich.
the avocado almost overripe but caught in the nick of time.
more coffee, another toke, another cigarette.
what propaganda and manipulation passes for news for the masses.
are we stupid, or what?
we outnumber them by millions and billions but cannot lift a finger cuz we cannot seem to be able to agree on shit and stuff without someone telling us what to do.
how to march in unity.
how to think in unity.
and so that goes.

and we go around the bend over the hills and far far away.
fuck this shit.
outta this world outta our minds.
let them find us if they can with their psycho-probing machines.
they nearly got him once, to put his head in a jar.
he escaped out the backdoor running.
people do whatever the fuck they wanna without a care.
that's what it's all about.

there's no way around this shit.
we have to go through it one way or another.
sideways.
just becuz you're unique doesn't mean you're necessarily useful.
who wants to be useful?
to be used.
but we need.
our need gets greedy.
that is how they get us.
that is how we get ourselves.
no way in, no way out.
just being here now is about all we can know about it though that becomes meaningless as is perhaps the intention /\/\/\/\/\/\/=:=:=:=:=||||||-_-_-_-/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/.
is there a secret space program?
we demand answers.
but lazy is the way.
we can't say we haven't been warned.
it isn't that we do not believe.
we just don't care.
we do not have the inclination nor the patience.
he sleeps.

awakening to rain.
another perfect day.
and it's medication time.
r is confused for a moment, but gets over it.
coffee and cigarette.
what's black is white, what's white is black.
hoity-toity intellectuals with nothing to offer the common stooge in the street, nor vice versa.
the great divide.
how do we overcome it?
is there nothing in the middle?
aren't we in the middle?
the middle finger of doubt in a crossfire.
what a world.
what a way to live.
it's all whack.

but what do we know about reality?
now the wise guys are telling us the universe is a simulation.
join the investigation, sherlock.
we remember when they told us the universe is a clock
them and their big brains with big ideas.
us puny nobodies without a clue.
tank it, baby.
tank it all night long.

something's wrong.
it don't add up right.
it don't quite fit.
it's all changing.
everlasting 'til the end o' time to come.
what then?
how do we amuse ourselves?
do we die of boredom?
perhaps so.
what else is there to do?

but that's a long time from now - perhaps.
we should be in the middle, maybe the exact center of space and time.
with its pinpoint inside our heads.
a distraction refraction of light projecting into a universe.
whatever.

pretending it's real awhile.
it would certainly appear to be according to our senses - if we can trust them.
do we trust even what we think and/or feel?
is it a devious trick to entrap us, or an amusement park ride?
we can only wonder until such time as it may be reveled.
clever.

SORRY, THIS RIDE IS CLOSED

(to be continued...)

20 -

awakening.
sweating.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
absent.
scary.
and it's medication time.
skating on thin ice, baby.
ya-haha-haha.

interesting times, indeed.
here's to your health, to everyone.
the more the merrier in the maze of mirrors scattering shattering images of the one true god, the same rules apply as always.
dirty rotten pig.
peace, love, and understanding radiating throughout the cosmic skies where few can reach being buried beneath the bodies climbing high.
but is that where it's at?
imagine that.
in a hat.
111
222
333
444
555

a comic tragedy.
a tragic comedy.
it's anybody's guess what meanings it may hold for us individually collectively.
how many happy endings are there?
we could wish them all true if we dare.
extinct bees by the bucketful.
fuck that.
let's think pleasant thoughts, not thoughtcrime.
they're coming to take us away.
out of the game which is still always the same.
we work with puzzle pieces of phrases mixing and matching any which way we please into endless never ever repeating mantras.
another impossibility existing disguised as impossibility.
and a peanut butter sandwich.

a day or so later -
can't think.
don't wanna think.
thinking is for the birds.
cheep cheep cheep - squawk.
an admission of guilt.
don't mean nothing.
nothing don't mean nothing.
it's all the same.
everything is the same everywhere everywhen.
it doesn't take being an idiot to realize that.
even a genius can do it - sorta.
but they often think too much about it.
too much about everything.
too much about nothing.

brazil.
everything must be destroyed.
destruction is creation.
creating a monster perhaps.
nonetheless...

more coffee, another toke and a cigarette.
being in a field of daisies.
a spaceship hovering nearby him sitting before the computer gazing out the window at the post-rain scenery of the park as daylight begins to wane dimly as if it weren't dim all day.
pet the kitty.
he is a weak willed individual knowing next to nothing about anything.
we observe him quietly as his mind continues to turn.
he has to take out the trash.
someone should take himself out with it.
nevermind, that day will come.
it may come for us all.
we are them.
not fit for public consumption.
diamond mind divided among us who are real next to these phony phantoms of existence with their sophistications and pretenses like wisps of smoke as seen on tv.
heaven help us.

he gets up to take a couple of slices of last night's pizza from the fridge.
he savors the taste of this blessed meal.
food of the gods.
he ought to know as he is thinking about how he was kidnapped from neptune by space pirates and left abandoned here now in this lonely world made desolate by the industry of its inhabitants.
logic never fails.
he is rewarded with bazooka for dessert.

he wonders as he has always wondered about people who arrive here and grow up thinking that there should be more of the same.
we need less.
make do with less not more.
unconstruct.
but how will we make $$$?

people with limited imaginations who only see the face of objects of their desire and fear.
don't think twice.
there is no excuse.
the objectivistic bare minimum.
no room for error.
no room for anything but what is reasonably correct.
what a drag.
he lights another cigarette.
suicide.

freak out?
jump outta your pants now.
dance a little dance now.
get down tonight all day long.
listening to this same old song.

ain't nothing happening.
roll another one, just like the other one.
roll that rock around.

itchy crawly nervous.
continuing just the same anyhow.
mutually simultaneous psychic orgasms flashing around the globe interconnecting for a moment.
or something like that.
from tree to tree.
it's medication time.
some things going backward.
eyes playing tricks on us - tricks of the trade.
look out!

political theatre sloganistic phrases ringing in his brain.
ding dong.
slipping the slide.
down and down we go.
the slide is a snake.
kick out the jams.
diamond dogs.
communication breakdown.
answer the question.

room 101.
nothing means anything anymore.
just the fear.
the sphere of consciousness to a pinpoint.
dancing with angels.
we've been had.
\cracked up.
up in the booth.
undecided.
overanalyzing.
sloppy overkill.
mr. and mrs. fancy pants.
bubble bath.
and he sleeps.

19 -

tender little tidbits of pure noise circulating like flies.
emissions of television phantoms glowing in the dark across developed landscapes.
brouhaha-heehee-hoho.
take it off.
everything is synchronistic mediocrity.
jejejejejejejej.
more coffee, another toke, a cigarette.
optical utopian upchuck deluge.
our overwhelming cruelty towards all manner of plants and animals, domestic and wild.
agriculture was our downfall.
hierarchies of power.
something to protect no matter what.
better free roaming beast than all the economic wealth and political power.
wouldn't it?
perhaps, or not.
we shall see.

doofus ring-a-ding.
sitting at the counter at the diner scribbling not poem into a notebook about whatever comes to mind about our theory of everything which we have figured out to an inexactly science of dubious doubts we might have about it and then some but no longer worry about what is going on except for the others who still don't get it might do or not.
it not a matter of getting it but of having it that is the juxtaposition of it.
we concurrently agree to disagree which may not be as simple as stated with all the yahoos about in this wonderful world we have otherwise sorta but not really.
everything is a scam in the grander master scheme of it all.
we always lose but that's ok.
winning is too much like work and we're lazy.
laziness is at the root of our theory of everything hence the confusion which models the confusion of what passes for reality as we knowingly experience it.

reality sucks out loud.
but that's no nevermind to us as we pursue happiness wherever it might lead us along on pathless paths toward understanding or certain doom with aching abscessed tooth to deal with today here now riveting us to this world the best and worst of all possible worlds for the full experience of it.
alone in a world of billions over populating it as the case may be or not as we choose.
and wars and rumors of wars singing the same songs to ear deaf with screaming rage.
funny how that happens.
how simple everything can be when we stop and think or to feel what we are experiencing if we can trust any of it and so on.

trembling afraid of fear itself in a pocket of love embracing our need for comfort in these interesting time always in doubt of ourselves as a man overdosed with abundant sharp aftershave sits next to him as a boring song plays on the jukebox along with most of the others too as he steps out for a smoky treat watching people walking and driving by as usual on a perfect autumn morning stepping back inside continuing not poem ordering eggs and toast as he coughs and farts.
we have been through most all of it and are still not done as it will never be not in our lifetime and theoretically not in anyone else's forever.
he's been a fool and fool he will continue to be believing this nonsense he scribbles but he don't care when he looks about at the  others and their lives wasted doing what's expected on and on.

2+2=cow.
ow.
ka-pow.
wow.
but we know better than that in our hat.
the telephone rings.
weird and bizarre.
not what is expected alright now.
we were caught dreaming impossibilities on a carrousel around around it goes.

not cucumbers, please.
it's time to divine some kinda monkey business going on that we suspect we know what it is that it's the whole scheme devised by those who hold themselves as the chosen elite elect sorta thing and we watch the parade of these fools and laugh before we die by their command.
so nevermind.
it comes and goes.
enjoy it while it lasts, baby.
rock on.

rapid fire idiot minds.
no one knows how far it goes - to the stars?
as if that means much about anything.
we guess again.
maybe this time we'll get it right, or not.
like we stand around in our underwear gazing at the gunfire on the next hill across the freeway.
now is not the time to get it wrong.
but we've always been wrong and still here we are now.
dang.

he comes home.
he naps.

 

18 -

- bananas.

awakening from a nap brewing coffee having a toke smoking a cigarette sitting before the computer typing out not poem.
don't forget wild dogs running loose in the streets.
but for now he has coffeecake.
11:11

has he been that far off about most everything?
is he anywhere close?
maybe so and he doesn't know it.
queequeg symbiosis effect.
he doesn't know what that might mean.
hoochie coochie?

just wanna have fun.
is that a crime?
has it always been?
people arguing politics and religion and science, etc.
celebrities put out their opinions through their publicists.
we try to keep outta the crossfire.
good fucking luck.

for some reason he smells pizza.
more coffee, another cigarette.
it's happening now.
holy fuck-a-doodle.

hooray for our side which is a side sitting on a fence as if we are untouched by it all passing away.
it makes sense in a non-euclidian geometrical sorta way where parallel lines meet in the center of our heads.
think about it.
get some perspective.

not anything that hasn't been noticed before.
mystical metaphysical mysteries.
who knows what's real anymore?
an existential age come and gone.
nihilism too.
and all those who fall back on faith alone when everything they think is right from wrong.
faith in anything and everything.
wishing back to simpler times.
school's out and nobody's got anyplace to go.
don't you know?
everything is dead and gone.

each time around around something new and/or different about it.
never ever repeating.
dreaming the world.
everything in oppositional contrast with everything else to define it as anything we might perceive with our senses and imagination.
dig?

getting fat.
that's where it's at.
pig roast.

we are them, but them ain't us.
who's who in this fucking zoo?
we fly outta there then to here now.
magick makes it happen.
here now being an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
a garden within the forest of dreams.
a beach with waves shifting the sands.
the imaginary city - light as day, dark as night.
gazorbnik everywhere everywhen in everything.
gazorbnik - the one thing we never know what it is, not even the gods.
just some word popping in his head - kinda sorta like.
he sleeps.

and sitting at the counter at the diner scribbling not poem into a notebook thinking about the state of whatnot with a triple shot mocha at hand happy as pie for the moment here now though everything changes though somehow it appears not to as if by magick which maybe not too many seem to think about with much more important things weighing on their lightweight minds.
and all that's been discovered and sorta explained in some manner but missing parts of itself nodding horses in the larger gestalt of it which anyone might overlook at some point in desperation mickey moused from an odd assortment of irregularities refusing to participate incognito to itself forthcoming of divine injustice whereupon we perceive through the darkness of our souls.
thinking of something else again relevant only to those also assuming to pursue unusual prospects of nothingness as we skip along through tax loopholes glowing in the sunshine beaming from space is the place to embark to wonder about space itself what a wonderful thing it is transmitting spectrum of light throughout the universe as it seems to our way of thinking.
if everyone would behave themselves and get along even if they still disagreed with one another would be ok by us.
then he thinks about a cow - no cow in particular, but the idea of cow.
the self of self gazing into a reflecting pool at a flower and such like 1001 suicides displaying on the video screens over and over 24/7 while we laugh and laugh at the dead poses floating by like a herd of sea snakes as he's thinking about ordering something to eat like maybe shrimp or something else yummy.
which he does.
he then packs up his shit and comes home.
and naps.

awakening to the reality of still being here still being whatever it is he is which there are many theories about perplexing the issue into other forms beyond our perceived dimensions convinced there is some sorta deception involved we play on ourselves to make it all work out to our expectations with our starter philosophy kits spilled onto the dirty floor of our communal hut stopped and frisked spending time in oblivious thought when we have our greatest illuminations of all space and time that we know about which he thinks about how ignorant we still are with all our supposed knowledge bogging up the works of our minds until we can't think straight no more as if ever we could anyway.

backhanded twist around toward other shapes of experience if need be unless we forgo the conclusions we have in mind immediately remembered.
writing in miscellaneous coded transmissions.
be careful what you read.
it could mean anything.
dynamic impulse retrofitted onto the rotting putrid corpse laying on a roof alongside common sense opinion diverging from the normal procedures under these circumstances.
do with it what thou wilted lovers of romanticizing past events before the advent of a new era of chicken chokers as has always been and will be our human history thus far and wide and ready to go.
the provocation of circumstances beyond our threshold of understanding squat be that as it may and/or may not.
on/off.
0 and 1 may be infinitely apart or not (though not might be infinitesimally infinite with angels dancing with glow in the dark sparkling hula hoops, and so on...).
groove on.
|||||||||||||||)---------
it's medication time.

begin without beginning the oz machine.
let it be as it may.
all the dismaying wonder of the obvious.
multiple singular organisms.

collective individuals.
etc.

how do we unentangle ourselves?
do we want to?
but we all want to be free free free.
don't we?

what is the final reality?
what do we perceive and experience?
how can there be a final reality when there is no end to anything?
this doesn't make no sense.
if it does, we don't get it.
and he sleeps.