part 31

lighting another cigarette.
life is good.
as good as it needs to be for the moment with some evil mixed in for contrast otherwise it's like an eternity of beige.
yikes.

so everything is a groove with rough edges.
if not we would just fall asleep and not even know we are dead.
still, many accomplish to do just that.
why imprison those who do not wish to be here?
why wouldn't those feeling themselves imprisoned not wanna be here?
ain't no mystery to that.
love is not always the answer.
and/or we do not understand what love is and not is.
in crazy land anything might be true.
how do you do?

as the clown drifting further away from people continuing typing not p0em for no one.
he sneezes.
transformation #18.
here it comes.
be ready.
pay attention.
it won't be around again.

nothing much to discuss about.
we're right.
everybody is wrong.
challenging the established status quo that benefits the wealthy and powerful elite which we will always have with us.
don't do this.
don't do that.
don't do the other thing.
they will let you know when you are free.

freedom not to do shit unless one wishes to, not on enforced demand.
but can a community operate like that for everyone?
for the clown it depends on who benefits on whether he's willing to participate or not.
does the community as a whole benefit, or just a few who grab as much for themselves as they can?
becuz they can.
we are too lazy and disorganized to prevent them.

life on earth.
life in this world of our own making.
the promises made and broken to ourselves.
another cigarette.
there is a physical world - a world according to physics.
what exactly it is physics is measuring is still unknown to us and perhaps will remain so.
is it real?
is it ideal?
is there any way to determine which or whatever?
the orb of the machine glows before us.
the machine everyone knows as nancy strolling along the beach to come sit opposite the clown her back to the sea.
the sea is humanity.
so, nancy says, where we at?
i'm watching the waves, he says.
then i'll watch you, she says.
if you wish, he says.
yes, she says.

a small herd of zebra trot by followed by 3 giraffes.
as a spaceship hovers silently nearby.
no one believes it's really there so they continue going to work.
be on time or don't show up.
there is no i in team.
crazy dream.

we measure reality against what we wish it would be but never is nor will be nor ever once was.
too bad for us.
we live in a dream - even especially those who claim to have woken up.
a dream of knowing truth.
they believe they are in a hollywood movie.
happy endings to a comedy of errors.
they are only on the stage at the burning theater where nobody cares.

but cheer up.
the dream may be shaped to our individual liking if we please.
forget the collective ideas of the masses and those who manipulate what they think.
they have their own limited understanding of their experience in the scheme of things around them as they have been informed how it is supposed to be.
they believe without a doubt.
we believe our gazorbnik with nothing but doubts.
how else is it supposed to be done?
we are enslaved by faith when we believe the unbelievable.
we are often victims of ourselves.
we are sometimes as angels in heaven and as demons in hell.
we are always gods walking the earth if we wanna be.
if we use our imagination.
who needs to verify this?
we trust no one to tell us the truth even if they might know it.
truth has no meaning.

how to succeed failing in life without even trying.
failure is a slender loose thread.
pull at it and everything unravels.
everything as we know it.
butter pecan ice cream face robotman scooting up and down easy street looking for a score before the show begins.
balloons for everyone.
:>-<]/|_|\[>-<:
having difficulty thinking.
the mind control radiation machines must be turned on.
but that's just an imaginary excuse to not wanna think.
conflicts of interest designed to distract from the main issue of belief among us about how fake everything seems to be.
doesn't it?
would we know fake from anything else?
why should we suspect?
becuz we are able to imagine?
something doesn't line up right.
everything's a bit off.
cracks in the wall.
invisible quarks in the cracks.
we are beyond such meaning having reached gazorbnik for ourselves.
we are branded traitors to the cause though the cause is lost.
it must be our fault.
but the profits of our endeavors soar over a cliff to the rocks below losing their market value instantly upon regret.
trillions of $$$ in their pockets they try to get themselves into heaven.
we know the story about that.

the clown is dying.
suicide by cigarette.
the rapid slow demise.
he is joyful.
no one here knows death.
it is eternal mystery.
it is what we make it out to be for ourselves from our imagination.
could it be gazorbnik?

death is an integral part of gazorbnik, but so is life and all between and beyond.
ain't playing no hero.
ain't playing no villain or victim.
ain't playing nothing no more.
everything is real.

awakening from a deep nap.
a toke, a cigarette - the morning coffee too old by now.
skip it.
coffee seems to put him to sleep anyway.
a sleep he feels he never wakes out of.
drifting in a daze, not even a dream.
it is now.
should he be alert?
should he be on guard?
defensive?
against what?
what's trying to get him?
what for?

when the state protects us from ourselves we are all each suspect.
having to prove our innocence.
you cannot change people's minds.
they cannot change their minds themselves.
everything remains the same.
a cooking bubbling stew.
count from 0 and you can't get anywhere.
something does not come from nothing.
where and when there is 0 there can only be 0.
0 can only be here now.
what are the limits to here now but the infinite eternal?
you know we're right.

everyone is right for what they think that gets them through it.
who are we to judge correct/incorrect?
to hold ourselves above as others are fond to do.
it is what it is.
and what is that?
we don't know yet.
it's something.
but we don't know that either.
it may be something that is nothing.
it's a possibility.
is it really that important what it is?
we would just like to know.

pet the kitty.

part 30

fuck.
integral temperament rotting from the inside with disgusting oozing filth running down its leg staggering into town drunk with power.
look at the butterflies.
think only good happy thoughts for once.
cute kittens playing in the daisies.
death to our enemies.
it's all distraction from each other.
think.

will this be the end?
there is no end.
eternity is here now.
abundant sacred rituals in the face of danger for those who believe in that sorta thing.
as the clown continuing not p0em for no one comes to understand what the nature of everything might be - or not.
it's all in how we present ourselves.
he presents himself as someone who couldn't care less.
dress for success.
there is no success like failure.
realizing one need not do shit no more for nobody.
just hanging around on easy street.
abstract minds aplenty.
people go go go.
don't stop to look and listen.
wham!

it wears him out just watching it.
somebody must be responsible.
is it him?
responsible with all his irresponsibility.
oh no!
what will they think up next?
he'd rather no $$$ than a job like that.
and $$$ does grow on trees.
go print up some more of these.
$$$ sucking up anything of value and turning it into piles of garbage archeologists will dig through looking for signs of life.
nothing but existence.

their war machine keeps turning churning the living into dead while we go shopping.
one would think that we would think which we do but what is to be done?
line up to be shot down in the street?
vote in elections they always win no matter what side they're on?
they are everywhere.
get ahead people at any cost to others.
for us it's a kafkaesque scheme with surreal intent.
the devil's in the details of our subjective opinions of facts.
if it were to have beginning it begins at 0, yes?
we do not know what 0 is.
it cannot be detected except by its absence nor measured by any countable units infinitely large or infinitesimally small.
it's as though it doesn't exist, which it does not.
it is by its nonexistence it is known.
and all such like that and then some.

everything happens at 0.
here and now eternal place and time.
understand.
this is heaven.
chanting the names of gods atop a rubbish heap what's left of our endeavors.
this is our temple.
we may run and hide in the hills but not escape the increasing encroachment.
nature doesn't stand a chance.
we turn the fertile into desert everywhere we might go to get away.
we are long past being one with the earth until we die and become ashes and dust.
but even then we poison the earth with our bodies.
pure and clean were always illusion we destroyed everything to achieve.
now 0 will swallow us whole like a whore sucking cock.
and still it will not be the end of us.
just what the fuck?
where's the good happy thoughts in any of this?
everything at once.
ka-blam!

all engines full ahead.
here we go again.
too bad we need to fall.
decompose to feed new mutations.
do we want it all to be predictable or the mystery to remain?
good is relative, happy is illusion.
it is good the clown is happy cleaning the cat box like he needs to.
you just need a little LSD.

the things one never knows.
remain in control.
change at will.
love.
the project moves "forward" as planned.
direction is aimless.
purpose is pointless.
the corporate takeover is nearly complete.
citizen/consumer#: thp160-p
may you serve it well.
don't forget the ketchup.

everything has rules.
everything has that deviant to the rules.
all is necessary otherwise nothing happens.
maybe nothing is supposed to happen.
perfect state.
no mistakes.
0?

when the earth moves again.
nothing is left untouched unpolluted.
this world is a disgrace.
the clown used to believe in an age to come when all this becomes unnecessary and abandoned for the wild.
now he's not too sure.
an age of destruction.
dumb as fuck.
but as long as those wave their burning flags up on the hill everything is alright.
it's ok.

though everything comes crashing down.
it's ok.
though billions die.
it's ok.
evolving transformation.
we can go along with it but cannot control except it is a direct result of our collective actions.
everything is alright.
it's ok.

the others do what we pay them to do.
what do we need but next to nothing?
what do they need but next to everything?
we give them all we have to give but they  always want more.
we invent more.
we invent the project.
the object of the project is the project.
what would we be without it?
happy playing bongos in the dirt.
no one telling us we shouldn't be.
life is good.
it's ok.

but people have to get on each other telling them what is what and not what.
use your fucking imagination for once, would ya?
go away.
it's ok.

but many have so much poison running through them they cannot stop themselves.
poison ideas.
truth rotten to the core of their beliefs.
the mindless mind of the masses we are supposed to have faith in.
everything is alright.
it's ok.

nothing is free.
not the birds nor especially the bees.
wolves? hahaha...
prisoners of our survival mechanisms.
we can do nothing other than what we do.
nature nurture indoctrination.
even the controllers are controlled.
it's supposed to be this way.
everything is alright.
it's ok.

ok?

part 28

the clown dreaming out of windows at the winds blowing through the trees.
he should pay attention more, but he doesn't.
but more so than most might realize - just not always what he's supposed to be paying attention to.
drifting away into thought so perfectly balanced and aligned it shatters him into a zillion splinters of himself becoming.
such cosmic hoo-ha undulating in his mind vibrations of compliance to the needs of the project he dreams about since the stone age ago without realizing he was doing it but suspecting that something was up living a history of wars and conquests for economic gain not for honor and glory as it was supposed by the stupid.
honor and glory be damned to the hell they create.

while continuously typing not p0em by reason of insanity the clown discovers he is the enemy of the people guilty as charged by the self-rewarding lords and masters leading us perpetually toward the promised lands.
just one more step.
now another.
and another.
we'll get there yet.
more cowbell.

to hear screaming without realizing you are the one screaming - and laughing.
have we gone insane yet?
what is it like to go insane?
a mad god alone in the void inside his head.
it can be any which way it goes.
who are you?

to pretend to know what is known.
goof balls.
the clown has only questions.
people telling him to shut the fuck up.
what good does that do but protect their pride?
11@9
but 0 at the exact center of everything - yet it is not really there but everywhere everywhen, no?
everywhere that is here.
everywhen that is now.
he eats a hot dog.

not p0em is one big fat question that can be reduced to - what the fuck?
answer that and win the prize.
only answers without further questions need apply.
but that is death everlasting.
questions are living.
would you agree?
or would you be damned?
it amounts to both the same when 2+2=cow, which it doesn't very often if at all but in our imaginations.

trying to figure out and determine exactly the politics of a bug crawling up a window before it is squished.
and the odd duck as well.
we make too many assumptions.
we follow the party line.
and what a party it is.
what's left of all our friends are there.
they will decide what becomes of us.
they are the many and we are the few.
mob majority rule.
scattered brains.
fact or fantasy?
the mainstream of information propaganda non-truth ippsy doodle all day.
a dated cosmonaut flying by into the sun to discover new weapons technology.
the clown almost poking his eye out putting on his glasses again after cleaning them.
silly monkey.

he just has awakened.
now he is sleepy ready for a nap.
nodding out at the keyboard typing not p0em.
what next?

so many deviant realities on the loose.
how do we keep track of them all?
why do we need to?
are they not infinite in number and scope?
is there no such thing as infinite?
the tricks we play on ourselves when everything is so very simple that gazorbnik covers it.
as much as a great tree in some mythological forest.
as much as the written word.
as much as the sun and moon.
squabbled words and drum beat mania on the killing floor.
rape torture murder.
the wars are just beginning.
none know what it takes.
it takes something - something outta our soul.
we are souls that have bodies, not bodies that have souls.
traveling across the universe.
get this shit together.

but realistically the clown likes to sit before the computer gazing out the window at the outside world than to be out in it himself.
beautiful day to look at.
while he is away in mind drifting in among the galaxy clouds.
it keeps becoming more complicated for the others and their schemes of conquest.
sit and simplify.
let it go and hold on for the ride.
emptiness.
0.

3@10
slow raga for a slow morning.
a sign of beginning.
to forget the darkness before dawn.
it's all dark.
it's all light.
it's all everything, yet nothing.
laugh and scream about it.
or be quiet to oneself.
the noise in his head.
the silence of those turning to ancient stone.
he is all for those against him.
they are probably right, whereas he has been proven wrong again and again.
the collective harvest of souls like poppies in the fields.
euphoric eternal slumber.
that seems to be as they wish.
no more thoughts in their heads.
not even just a dream.
he had his chance and he blew it.
now everything is the same.
can he sleep now too?
but he always wakes up.

ooggly music with lawnmower attachment.
most don't get it.
one must be selective to what one is listening to.
one must believe.
always faster.
this ain't some country jamboree.
unwillingly absorbed into themselves the people still walking around like nothing.
confrontational smirks across their faces turning away.
who needs this?
the stench of it.
like they got it together themselves.
everybody's rocking - rocking it inside out

suicide depression shakes.
satanic broadcasts grabbing hold of the faithful now wild in the streets.
such a laugh - not everything it appears to be.
chattering stuttering chimps at the controls of logic devices set to stun/kill.
it'll stunt your growth.
11:11
without preceding thought.
not much to it than that.
another cigarette.

words have many meanings.
more so than rationalogic definitions.
irrationalogic metaphors.
the clown often doesn't know what they mean himself.
it's the chance he takes.

he naps.

part 24

now get this straight.
haha.
or get it crooked.
it doesn't matter which or what, unless one is dealing with rationalogic terms of thinking, then only a fraction of what one is thinking is true.
but we are not so much concerned with matters of truth.
for us everything is possibly true - even when it is considered false by others.
the clown consumes one ice cream sandwich product and considers getting another.
getting up and walking to the freezer he thinks about brazil.
he lights a cigarette while they laugh along with the studio audience at the comedy news in the next room.
laughing all the way to the camps, baby.
not much for him to laugh at.
if it's a joke, he doesn't know it.
maybe the joke's on him.
he does kinda match the unspoken description.
whatever.

the day is dark and raining.
glorious weather despite popular opinions contrary.
they are mostly wrong about mostly everything.
knowing what everything is but not necessarily what it means.
the balderdash of it all.
crazy daisy spin insane.
no questions?

we'd have questions.
we do have questions.
questions about everything.
does anyone have answers?
does anyone know what this all is about?
are you frightened by your ignorance?
are you frightened by your knowledge?
do you understand?
many are faking it.
whole schools of thought are faking it.
are you faking it?
we don't know if we are or not.
use caution.

living in a possibly fake world.
we know there are fake people, or so they seem in a glimpse.
but they may be only in different realities crisscrossing paths with our own.
there are so many explanations - so many questions.
do not quote us cuz we change our minds as we will to suit our fancy moment by moment and back again.
lottsa police out and about.
are we really that much outta control?
what would it be like without them?
freedom?
freedom to do what?
a little rape and pillaging is good for the soul.

we got it arranged in our heads we're right and everyone else is wrong.
but so does everybody else.
but we know better than they do.
we can see it all what's true and not true.
even the gods are dismayed and amazed by our brilliance.
could it be any more wonderful?
we doubt it.

wonderful is like we like it.
it's how we like ourselves, though we rarely get the opportunity to do so cuz we feel like shit so much of the time.
from the muck and the mire to the jewel of the lotus we are the living god.
on earth as it is in heaven and hell.
the best and worst of all possible worlds as only it can be.
amen.
haha.

and ours is to be humble and meek (obedient).\\\\\\\\\\
this is what we are told by numerous wise guys.
but not all.
we get our wisdom from many sources, what wisdom we might have being idiots and fools.
everyone plays us as such.
we have learned the game of that and we do nothing that might lead them to suspect otherwise.
let them laugh at our antics.
the project shall prevail nonetheless.
they will never know it until the end of time.
back to the year 0.
and 1 > infinity.
where are we?
when are we?
what is happening?

what is truth here and now without beginning nor end to everything?
a late realization among us.
are there answers for our questions?
answers without further questions?
does god really know all answers?
what a drag, but perhaps a reality.
reality among many others the same and different as one another.
but we laugh it away to ourselves without anyone else knowing we might possibly understand more than they believe we do.
we're just monkeys in a zoo.
us and you too.

but is jesus mohammed buddha krishna whoever the answer?
does the sun rise in the east with the turning of the earth?
unless the earth is flat.
unless the earth is in a hat worn by a cat chasing a rat.
look out!

the clown drinks the last of the coffee.
another cigarette.
late night early morning time.
he thinks about everything that happens to come to mind which now is a cow. the sacred beast. the atom heart mother. jumping over the moon.

all marching to the same beat of different drummers.
he writes future thoughtcrimes the way we're headed with everyone offended by the other.
no one understands.
no one even comprehends there is anything else to understand than what they feel is correct/incorrect just so.
just so you know.
just so you'll understand nothing is wrong.
give up.

the hive mind shall be victorious.
the individual is doomed to oblivion.
this is how it must be.
everything is equal.
everything is round and square.
everything is nothing as we know it here now.
it will be there then.
wait for it.
but don't hold your bad breath.

anti-intellectualist philosophy proposed by the millions of minions employed by the corporatestate to seal our fate.
what's going on?
nothing that we can sense.
it must not be real.

a big surprise as we pop out of a cake.
no one knew it was possible before this time of our lives.
dream on, baby.
make it all come true.
rock it home at last.
the clown thinks about this and that and the other thing while blowing his nose then lighting another cigarette.
there is nothing to be done but observe and report to the committee via not p0em and such.
vague infantile reasoning henceforth shall embrace us.
we will be overcome by its rhythmic motions like the sea to mesmerize us into compliance with our surrender.
but this tale has been told before.
and here it is told again upon brains deadened by disillusionment.
and he's just about given up but what else is there for him to do that he might want to?
following instructions from above he continues along with his fantasy reality he invents along the way it seems to lead on and on.
yawn.

he sleeps.

part 22 -

rainbow friends -
we pretend everything we are. we cannot illuminate those who hide in the dark who cannot face the light of themselves. this is not a mystery as we know it. to awaken them is to hear their screams. everyone has their own view of reality. to argue which ones exist and which do not is foolish. only if one wishes to maintain order and control, another foolish endeavor we have tried and failed. how do we beat someone down and enlighten them at the same time? the experiment has failed to produce meaningful results. yet many have not yet come to this realization. what do we do now?
let's have a party.
a real blast.
turn it up loud.
there is no tomorrow.

the clown awakening from a nap with coffee, toke, cigarette listening to odd and strange sounds he created while he is still continuing typing not p0em - a report to the committee. as if.

as if it were within the bounds of reason. marching on corporate headquarters without a snowball's chance in hell. look at all the people who will not be televised for fear of inciting more watching by the governing board of directors in solid agreement before the bomb went off.

more coffee, another toke and cigarette.
what's the plan? the project is the plan. undermine everything and build anew learning from human histories what might work and what might not. if we can. if we dare.

what daring deeds might be done in those times of a 1000 year golden age? what chances we might take now that we are free of undue constraint? voluntary toleration. love is for lovers. peace settles around us as we begin understanding.
omelas without the child in the closet. do we really need that anymore? whatever. we are always free to leave.
betrayed so many times.
we are crying.
ground beneath the wheels of profit seeking.
the machine never stops.
the machine is hungry.
it's sad to imagine that's what all will be left.
a machine chewing itself to pieces.

a burning flag up on the hill.
our final stand?
are we that evil?
there are those who believe so.
the only redemption is annihilation.

for many the only freedom is self-destruction.
for others it is self-deception.
down in the depths of our collective souls we understand otherwise not feeling the urge of the absurd toward oblivion others seem to vex themselves about.
the universe has no meaning!
oh no!

meaning is arbitrarily subjectively objective (objectively subjective?).
the only one who knows anything about it is ourselves.
is this not true/false?
flip a coin into a fountain to decide and make a wish come true.
the clown wants a hot dog.
he nukes one for his baby too watching her tv.
another cigarette.
and finally he sleeps.

awakening.
coffee, cigarette.
the party continues onward and upward.
yahoo.
the party in his mind the clown typing not p0em digging a hole he will probably never get out of. no matter. we just die, and that's it - all she wrote.
he goes out to get meds and some supplies.
home again to a toke and cigarette.
maybe a nap soon... like, now ->
zzz...

awakening.
toke, cigarette.
hanging on thin threads of the cosmic web. light energy. discordant chords of sounds. he believed he was born into a playground until he was informed that it is instead a workshop. fuck. an idle mind. a lazy attitude. what more could we ask for? we moved right on in, baby.
everything they tell you is right. we are not to be trusted but to be avoided if at all possible. somebody call the cops!
we've been infiltrated and infested with possession by a demon calling itself gazorbnik.
it tells us what to feel and what to think.
we are not what we appear to be, nor who.
guy mowing the lawn which is against the clown's religion.
sometimes everything makes perfect sense.
not now.
7@1
he's been mean and cruel to others.
haven't we all?
the planet is full of us fuckers.
billions of us by now.
sadistic pleasures for their own sake, not for any purpose.
it takes one to know one.
are you experienced?

what are we to become?
some of us extinct while others continuing on with their evolution?
perhaps likely.
which is us?
do we stay or do we go?
no matter, we will be dead.
butterflies toward the sun.
what of us will survive while the rest falls into the bottomless pit of space and time never beginning nor ending?
oblivion swallowing the cast off skin of evil.
the wheat from the chaff and all that jazz metaphor sorta thing.
remember?

ok, cool.
let's go.
off to the afterworld it would seem to continue on and on perhaps forever.
but do we?
some form of waves of energies of ourselves like a burning flag up on the hill.
but how do we make $$$?
and who's paying for all this crap? great special effects though. that shit's gotta be expensive.

simplistic bliss understanding like never before. who do we think we are? our heads filled with alternative propaganda from the other sides who tell us they want us to be free from our oppressions. yet is it becuz they want to be able then to round us up so they might oppress us instead? there is always that possibility. we'd be defenseless against them in body, heart, and mind. they know what we need and it's always for a price - a price on our heads.
this should have been obvious from the start but their ways are devious down through the ages and generations. it's a science and an art. it reverberates with our basic primate nature so it seems like truth when it is all lies. we are astonished when we discover this each for ourselves. we've been had. we have always been had as we always will be. there is no way out of it.

we find our truth within. the truth without is their truth. the truth of the world. our truth is the truth of heaven. not like it matters. it only matters to us.
we impose nothing on others. we inform them about what we have come to understand. they decide from there what might be useful to them or not, if anything. just as we pick and choose from them what we find useful to ourselves to steal.
we have survived this way through our own generations - generations of minds. this is our fantasy. a fantasy we choose to believe in the possibilities of it. it is it. accept no cheap imitations, and there are plenty. this is one of them.
trust nothing.

part 19 -

pet the kitty.
xian influx into the culture it feasts upon with the inhabitants unknowing of the nature of the cause of their disease.
not going too far or not going far enough?
peculiar misuse of sacrificial funds to protect the ignorance of the masses from discovering secrets of the journey of their submission to authority.
it's quite a natural thing to humans it would seem.
we love our rulers though also fear, as we love and fear our gods.
x - unknown variable in an equation.
xian - follower of x.
xianity - rhymes with insanity.
who's who here now?
let's see a show of hands.
yes, just as we thought.
we are them.

how can it be any other way?|
we look under the table and see nothing.
we look to the sky and see brilliant rainbows.
it can be difficult to fathom. all is emptiness. what does x equal? our joy? our suffering? our mediocre lives?
x equals anything, up to and including everything.
simplistic irrationalogic reasoning.
we're just following instructions. but this is something we could might believe.
x is almost as compelling as 0 - almost.
x=0...
everything everywhere everywhen measured by 0.
0 is arbitrary.
we place value to it, as we place meaning to gazorbnik. the two are closely related though not entirely the same.
the crowd applauds what is beyond their sense of reason to comprehend. it wouldn't be the 1st time.
up all night the clown is sleepy at dawn.
he goes for a walk around the park. it kinda wakes him up. but he barely makes it around once. too many cigarettes of late as he lights up another.
then he sleeps.

/./

awakening to coffee, toke, cigarette.
the trash was picked up and now the recycling truck rolls in.
mean people nasty violent fuckers on every side of the equations of human behavior. action/reaction. is there any way violence is good? to win the war to reap the profits? what's the difference between that and evil? evil is just trying to do the same. history is written by the victors, and all that. everything we have learned are lies.
no such thing as good and evil but in our crazy heads trying to make sense of it. but if we're honest then there is no sense at all. but imagine telling others that. they'll kill your motherfucking ass - or just walk away laughing.
it's the real world, baby. ain't no room for excuses.

no peace, no love, nor understanding.
whip it out.
get down to it.
beware, no monkey business is strictly enforced.
read between the lines up and down and all around.
empathetic discord of discriminating vectors plausible pussy outcome decreased by cock factors notwithstanding anal fortitude functions easily perturbed punching cum reflex into far reaching altitudes for the average escape tit nozzle.
let's get outta here, baby!
now!

no need to surrender. who do we surrender to? (to whom do we surrender?) those days are gone. nothing's in synch anymore. it's all discombobulated with itself like an oncoming derailed freight train in a long dark tunnel. is this the way to the party in heaven?
who's playing a flute this time of night? or is the day merely darkened by the shadow of our sorrow?
the adventure has only barely begun and already there's shady business about.
when will we ever get it right? be happy that you're miserable. you're alive, ain't ya?
keep on dancing.
follow the direction of transmitted instructions and become a rebel. you know you wanna. it's easy here on easy street. meet the blessed and the cursed.
it's medication time!

cheap imitation poltergeist pigmentations erupting from left eye the cow stumbles downhill into a creek entangled in barbed wire on the portal of a dream.
spit in the face.
incredible feats of tricky bullshit expounding the latest development of dog left in car barking.
compliments to the chef.
asking a lot of stupid questions when we don't really have the time. we're so so busy. we don't play those games much anymore. not since we've been so busy busy.
falling off a log philosophy into a quagmire of possibilities resulting in our corny comical confusion of doubts.
absolute betrayal coming down enough from great hubris including jerking kicking licking much nonsense observing peculiar quiet robot sex transforming universal victims watching x-ray yelling zebras.

a few days later -

the clown's got nothing...

and the day after that -

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
medications.
he naps.

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
been having trouble awakening and staying awake of late. naps are good. being awake between them is good too. but a 1/2 pot of coffee and still, zzzzzz...
he tries to make it different this time.
he really wants to go back to bed but he continues not p0em anyway.

and he can't seem to think. maybe it's mind control rays dampening our brains like many believe. it's possible. what will they think up next?
it's a lost cause probably. but what was it to begin with? when the corporatestate turns dystopian against us while everything seems hunky dory. fuckers.
what do we do?
follow leaders?
march in the streets?
or watch it all on tv? whatever they decide to show us, if anything.
nothing going on here.
he wonders why people need to be this way, but he knows the answer. becuz they can.
there will always be the selfish and the greedy among us who don't give a shit about the rest but only their own gain. and flowers grow on the hillside beneath the burning flags right next to where the dairy farm used to be that now a top secret installation is located. concrete and windowless. security cameras. signs prohibiting photographs. chugalug.

he naps.

another thing, it's hot. that'll knock you out too. whatever. lethargic latitudes. anger. spaghetti butter garlic parmesan. ugh.

he naps.

awakening and he's still tired. he tries to fight it off. coffee is old and burnt. a toke and cigarette.
even the interwebs are sluggish. he glugs some water. a taste of summer. sweat. oh boy.
his head feels like a lead weight. drooping. dim and drowsy. the greedy are the true criminals but unfortunately they have all the $$$ so nothing can be done against them. they laugh at our revolting antics. they are able to wait it out. generations if need be.
the blindless waste. the discovery of frozen time, yet our theory has always sorta predicted it.
a theory of gazorbnik.
a report to the committee.

he sleeps.

part 18 -

we begin again in space and time here now.
the clown typing not p0em that seems to interest no one. that's probably a good thing. he thinks so anyway. one less thing to worry about for everybody.
entity.
meathead.
düsseldorf.
mad at everything all the time.
a clue in the closet sweating with distaste and disagreeable perceptions of reality while listening to neptune sing its songs. ding dong, everything is dead. let's not waste our time with persistent emotional outbursts arising from the gut in a nutshell. let's be reasonable for once. let's be very clear.
the world evaporating before our eyes. soon it will no longer be here. spin the wheels one more time. it's just fine and dandy to be here again with a different disguise with a different role to play. all the sacrifices to be made as the houselights fade.
and we are on.
shall we sing and dance?
shall we fall down?
shall we laugh?
again?

let the others play the fools this time. we relax and observe while the clown types a report to the committee as not p0em secretly so no one knows. if anything survives. it will or it won't.
ugly dimples.
a limited format of display. not for public consumption. members only.
the logistics of pleasure and pain. the submission to sins. loaded dice determine the shape of things to come. stand by for further instructions.
eat it. it is it. bring up the rear. surrender to the joy.
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head the clown lights another cigarette. one gets used to it. or not. one has the option of becoming mad oneself for one's own sense of sanity. la-dee-da-dee-dum, let's have some fun!

shift the meanings of the words if one needs to. it's allowed. whatever makes sense to you. kittie. something to think about. sweet sweat. no, keep away. the naked eye. plagiarism is contagious. crazy time music playing in the background the clown dreams a little bit more about worlds that never will be but to be imagined. an elegant trove of secret fantasies we desire and fear. what might happen if we dare? sing this song loud. make everyone hear its cry. tempting. frightening.
if we might remember everything we have lost along the way of our fortune. hoopie-doo. of course this implies there is some sort of solution. but for there to be a solution there must be a problem. what's the problem? there's always a problem. even solutions have problems. let's think about this. but there is no time. we need to just eliminate the problem. that's the simplest solution. that is our final answer. be gone!

it wasn't what we wanted. we were forced deciding otherwise by circumstances beyond our control, like our inner basic primal nature we all share among us. it doesn't matter what we are other than that. it shapes our destiny. but it's a beautiful sunny spring day.
the clown has chores to do today.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
funny how things happen other than how we plan and expect, unless that is what we plan and expect. it's in our head. there is nothing wrong with anything else. it must be us.
he takes out the trash. the painful wounds of the heart. the outcry continues. butchering the children. the chorus sings. all chaos breaks out much to the dismay of many who do not understand this is how it should be. one eye open one eye closed we stumble ever onward. the hanging trees. untouched pleasures. crazy. tinfoil motherfuckers in the depths of agony. faraway dreams of ice cream palaces melting under yellow crayon sun. the slaughter has begun. what else is new? he lights another cigarette after catching his breath.

reflections going haywire as we lose control. this is too much. overdone. out on the abandoned railroad tracks. dark emissions. talking outta turn on the radio for anyone who might be listening. when our history turns into mythology among those who are left to wander. the key element is surprise. to die with nothing left to live for. esoteric teen beat.
7@7

is this the way it's supposed to go? if it is how it is then it is the way it's supposed to be. what do we know different? a simple touch. synoptic regurgitation distortion popular interpretations derived from imagined possibilities. state muffins right there on the top. push the button. on fire. this is what has been reported. everything is false pretense undermining the very foundations of civilization.
is this a bad thing?
[ ]yes [ ]no [ ]couldn't care less
chipmunks for sale. mediocre revelations for the dumbfounded broadcast full alert. danger. look out for this stranger. what should we do next? come on, party down! but we are asleep. is this what we asked for? ordering chinese. what's happening now? pants down comedy turned tragically surreal. achtung!
the orchestra tunes up ready to hit it. backwards surgery undertaken by fat mice from the martian colonies where weird experiments take place. developing scum. locked in tight, no escape (club mix). never never never coming home. louder is better. what did you say? little beeps. we should know by now. don't think about that. disturbing news from the front forecloses the day.
gotta love everything. take it in. hate is thoughtcrime strictly enforced around these parts. you're not from here, are you? gotta be stoned to understand. it doesn't work any other way. sexual intellectual standing on thin ice of theoretical devices meant to confuse the issue involved in taking over the world. everybody's gotta a rap these days. scream it. shout it. make them understand everything's outta hand in this forgotten land.
the coffee's ready. toke, cigarette.
scars of love on the heart. soft bellied underlings come running at the ringing of a bell to begin their groveling for the day.
the clown sighs. all the people making living difficult for all the people. why must it be this way? the answer's obvious, but what is the key that unlocks the chains? is it love as many believe? how do we find love? the answers are like leaves blowing in the wind. chase them if you want. let us know when you've found the one we will all agree on. and not by force. that's been done and failed. force is only good for making $$$.

he is not so clever. not even for being an idiot. he knows his place though he has these dreams. someone who might listen to what he does not have to say. it happens in a moment then is gone. do we really need to talk so much? must it be so long and loud? where is the life of the mind? we know where the life of the party is. how could one miss it?
writing thoughtcrimes for future use. abandon your ego now. how?
all the same questions. all different answers. the world at war over economic gain and control. make them eat shit. cram it down their throats a shovelful at a time.
he perceives this world through a multitude of facets from one end of the varying continuums to the other. everything happening at once to someone. someone else.
more coffee.

it could be you. it is you. it's all of us alone together apart. another cigarette. the big bad dildo machine actively doing what it does. all the broken dreams laying on the concrete floor in puddles of burned out possibilities we see ourselves reflected.
reflections dancing the boogaloo to different beats in our heads. we rattle our chains. we feel so ashamed to be played the fools again.

and furthermore, imaginary lines dividing us encouraged by mass media manipulations until we believe they exist as it is desired by the ruling elite to protect their positions in power they enjoy. who wouldn't? not us.
we learn to love our masters - those revolutionary messiahs come to save the day - or off with our heads.
who are we to complain about our miserable lives when evidence can be and is shown of those far worse off than us? so shut the fuck up, would ya? haha.
and everyway works against us. we struggle among ourselves with no relief and for no reason except fictitious excuses of us vs them strategies we are indoctrinated with willing belief. bend over and salute the burning flags up on the hill.
it's a joke, but a very serious joke in fact that must not be acknowledged. it's hopeless to believe there is a way out. we are trapped by our very nature and nurture as a foundation to everything built upon it that keeps us down.
but one might ignore all that hoo-ha with minimal involvement while being in the midst of it. it's not always so easy as it seems but worth the effort, or lack thereof. everybody's the boss of you but if you mind your own business they go away. they've got asses to kiss and yours isn't one. this might very well be the joke, but probably not.

rock this goddamn motherfucker. rock it all to pieces. rock it all night long. just another night howling at the moon. we can live life to those rules but we'd rather not. rules are for people who don't know what they're doing. we know what we are doing and then some.
the clown thinks he's hip, but he's on a trip about to fall. he coughs and farts. how low does it go? down deep underground that has been abandoned now the mission's been accomplished. it's time to assume the position. it's time to take control.

slightly ill at ease. it begins in the gut. fix the gut and the body will follow. not quite knowing really what's going on. is everyone against him? the clown wonders to himself as there's no one else around to deny it. and that might probably be a lie to keep him in control. should he trust anyone? who are they really?

part 16 -

what now?
what now that 2+2=cow? [void where when prohibited by law and just plain common sense]

you had to be there. and you were there but not here, except you were here cuz everywhere is here. what demarcation line divides here from there? does there even exist? does here?
don't think about that.

think about imagining being on a beach of an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
we watch the waves rolling in and washing out again all in motion not in motion.
everything in cycles we imagine never repeating quite the same ever. the difference might be just a lone particle out of place than it was a moment ago. or something like that.
is there such thing as a lone particle? is there such thing as particles, period?
the wise guys tell us they've seen evidence of them using very sophisticated and expensive technology we could never match to conduct our own experiments to verify. we need to trust and have faith in an elite of peers whose main concern is protecting their high positions more than anything resembling truth or such.
haha - when have we heard that story before? always.

are we clear yet? haha.
the clown thinks he should walk a bit now it's stopped raining awhile.
he decides not yet. he doesn't feel up to it at the moment.
the sun might even come out.
today is perhaps like no other day before it or after. would we be able to tell if it was or will be? is there past and/or future? whatever.

he needs to clean the toilet. he should take out recycling. he should sweep and mop kitchen floor.
later, baby.

he worries too much. he lightened up on anxiety meds cuz he was a bit foggy-headed. it cleared up his head but made him feel more anxious, but not as much gut wrenching as it was before. full on angst thing. who needs that shit, even though it might be reality?
6@2

he thinks about 0. he can't quite figure out yet what it is about 0 that intrigues him. he looked it up once and learned interesting facts about its use and origins around the globe (or surface) of the earth in various disciplines and such but not what he is necessarily seeking about it which he does not exactly know at this point.
maybe nothing - maybe 0.
he's hungry.
he opts for a granola bar.

he writes not to convince nor to interest anyone. he writes for himself to think and feel thoughts and feelings that otherwise tend to be all over the place.
and he writes to confuse those who need confusing. confusion is good for the heart mind soul of anyone.
but be careful. confusion's not for amateurs. start perhaps with small doses and work your way up, or down or sideways or whatever as the case may be - haha.
spin the wheels, baby. let the magick do its thing all over you until you're confused as fuck. then figure it out from there, if you can.

he naps.

awakening to a cigarette in a world going down a shit hole with all these alpha-people competing to determine about who's gonna end up in charge at the expense of all and everybody else.
idiots.

the next day -

11:11
mostly anytime the clown does something someone tells him it's wrong. he goes on doing it anyway until he finally figures out they're right. then he still keeps doing it.
what's wrong with him anyway?
he doesn't get it.
but why should he? everybody else is plumb crazy. he's glad he's not one of them. we are them. he's maybe the only one who gets it - maybe...
more coffee, another toke, one more cigarette.
cooking eggs and toast for his baby.
that's one thing he does that isn't wrong, except to a vegan. but fuck them.
he makes himself a pastrami and swiss and red onion sandwich with mayo and generic spicy brown mustard on 8 grain bread.

who doesn't know more than him and us? but we know enough to mostly stay outta trouble. that's important. that and the grace of our gazorbnik has saved our ass many a times.
he ponders having chocolate fudge brownie ice cream.
not now.

pet the kitty.
and, yes, much of this is redundant. so what? tell someone who cares.
he lights another cigarette.
the sea under a silver full moon reflecting from the waves in crazy patterns that could probably be mathematically worked out, except not really. who would bother?
and each pattern of zillions forever is over and done in a moment. who has that instantaneous amount of time to accurately measure and calculate?
these and many more questions in his head at once. how does he answer them all? with gazorbnik, that's how.
gazorbnik, the skeleton key to the universe and beyond - everything beyond never beginning never ending infinity.
he pets the kitty and she bites him.

lovely puppets all in a row.
he hits his inhaler and a mentholated cough drop to help him keep breathing awhile more.
lovely puppets taken out and shot.
lovely puppets shouldn't have tried to speak their minds.
oh well.

when this world comes to its reason and prosperity grows for everyone to their share of the spoils the earth abundantly supplies we gladly accept with reverence for nature not against it as once was our practice before this enlightened age of those who finally learned their lesson.
keep dreaming, baby.

another cigarette.
the clown cuts his hair for the summer.
he never had a job that required a haircut.
he never had much of a job - pretty much just grunt work.
but that's all behind him now. despite all the bullshit he was retired (psychological discharge) by 40. not too shabby for some stupid clown. there's smarter people than him his age still working away.
he's been fortunate for one who is mad - haha.
soon to be someone who is dead - hahaha.

he sleeps.

coffee, toke, cigarette.
and strange weird sounds.
an eclipse of nonsense degrading into its birth.
interplay of dimensions to create new worlds to become.
what is reality?
big deal.
then when we come across ourselves wandering pathless paths everyone wondering which came first and which way is backwards. it must be something.

o' to be in iceland in the spring!
hear the birdies sing.
such happiness it can bring along with such sorrow.

the clown still working on typing not p0em. the fool. lost on a sea of wisdom. not much caring if so.
waves crashing everywhere on the rocks below.
don't jump!
you'll wish you hadn't in midair. a moment of realization before your head is cracking open to reveal butterflies.

it's quite a trick to perform. give it a kiss like a toad into a prince. walk away.
zombie zebras doing the locomotion, yeah.
absolute forgiveness.

truth for some is something to obey.
truth for us is something to be.
it is impossible to state there is no truth without proclaiming truth. mixed up turned around thing we love so well. the clown unsure whether he approves.
stand up and be counted.

outlining the stepping stones for success. it's all true but assumes we want success on their terms. what kinda success is that to become as hardhearted and brutal as they are?
our success is our failure to succeed in their world.

it's rigged in their favor of course. who's to tell us different who is not one of them looking for excuses?
everything is hunky dory peachy keen.
they are everywhere watching all the time.

no matter what they may tell us we stand our ground to do nothing. we are on strike until their ruthless regime is taken down never to be seen again ever.
we are allowed to dream.

simplistic devices set to erase all memory of themselves among us. we forget and they take over. genius. a liquid sky is performed for the crowd to sing along as they like to do not to face their fears and tears.

the popular folk do not enjoy our jokes made at their expensive expense onstage at the burning theater where they sit where everyone might see them otherwise enjoy the show.
our names are not written in the book of life.
we are heroes without a cause, without applause. could it be only in our own minds?

into the actuality of the correct formulation of the event of the season. death squads roam the streets giving away flowers. the literal logic of it is astounding. wait, does this make sense? a question we must always ask ourselves to begin our journey.

the fat black cat being a pest.
we are ghosts of ourselves dreaming alright.
when we go.
when we die.
are we ready or not here we come.

the echo chamber recedes into darkness without our knowing what the fuck. is this what offends you? crawling toward the light again. it's funny how simple things like that are misplaced.

afraid to open the message for fear of more bad fucking news from the front facing east toward rebirth waiting for something to happen. light up that dwarf. uncertain dreams when the lights go out. it comes for us reaching the 7th level trying to understand not too much longer.

pizza and root beer.
something doesn't seem quite right. learning the vocabulary of certain philosophical schools of thought one considers oneself wise. too much to do and not wanting to do any of it. light another cigarette.

we exceed our limit of patience. frustration. it's all turned inside out backwards. watching it unfold on tv sitting comfortably doing nothing. when has it become enough?

exaggerations of hope. feeling it. caricature rape of the embodied soul. a monopoly game. appetite. no one needs to explain, it is absorbed without knowing from birth to death. it is it itself.

the clown having trouble thinking straight as he is supposed to with mind going around around as it will without stopping for him to catch his breath.
it needs to be someone, why not him? let the others laugh relieved it's not themselves so they might succeed in this world.

there is no room for error in the kingdom of god. everything measured exactly as it is fitting before the lord that punishes misdeeds for all eternity. we refuse to identify ourselves with that regime others rejoice for it to come.
but we do not wish to make these decisions we are forced to make but just wanna be left alone in our peace.

he goes out for supplies.
he comes home and naps.

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
pistachios.
uneasy feeling. :][:
he ignores it and eats a sausage. sausage good.

pick it up.
now is not the time for despair or anything like it.
sure the world sucks, now tell us something new.
a meadow of daisies in the forest of dreams where a monster is rumored to live.
what's to be ashamed of?
walking along a pathless path smoking a bowl of nature's best. a bag of mushrooms to nibble on.
naked unafraid.
making $$$ like crazy.
join the fun.
everybody's a success - even the losers.
everybody's clear.
it's all downhill everyway on easy street where the fabulous people meet.
a standing ovation at the burning theater.
the girls will be boys and the boys will be girls.
every secret is being revealed and nothing is really that much of a surprise.
sitting in an outdoor cafe in the sun. espresso and a cigarette. along comes some ooh-la-la to fancy for a moment or three. and the doves are cooing. lovers are wooing. everyone's booing the mime. what a wonderful time to feel to be young and free.

13 o'clock and all is well the watchers inform us on our personal monitors.
everyone sighs with easy contentment going about attending to whatever business they might wish.
almost everyone.

and by the sea we watch the waves come in and go out until we decide to get hot dogs from the robot vendor on the boardwalk as a group of children go running by laughing.
we find ourselves laughing along too. what a beautiful day this has turned out to be, rain in the morning with sun in the afternoon.
people flying kites.
we remember back when there were those who told us this would be impossible. where are they now? we hope they are happy.
the clown eating licorice sighs.
yes, they are happy, without ever admitting it. happy being despondent together. happiness to them is illusion. no one is really happy. they have been brainwashed into thinking so. they laugh at the idea of happiness.
_________

so now sitting at the counter at the diner continuing not p0em thinking about how bow cow gizzle flippers. and the red snake slithering across dimensional reflex machines igniting the mother matrix devices devised to start the party where everyone has a real good time blast off no one asking why.

an experience experiencing itself as proof of its own existence for those who aren't sure about it yet. let's pretend we know better than that whether we do or not.

generations after generations people populating the earth when there's too many already. but we have a solution to that we employ upon them without their knowledge but with their whole hearted consent. everything will be alright.

simple is as simple does. ordering eggs, toast, and bacon. cheesy love songs on the jukebox. there's no end in sight. suckers born every minute.

feeling true eternal love in the moment. love without object. love for love itself. funny how that happens. funny how so much of everything happens. who's laughing now?

the clown's head imploding into a singularity of 0. the middle of everything that is or might be. we imagine ourselves in dreamy delusions. we imagine ourselves feeding ducks and geese and swans on a pond behind the house by the garden gate. on one side is desire, on the other side is fear. we walk between to enter. but it's not as easy as that otherwise everybody'd be trampling through.

there's secrets to everything. secrets we make up for ourselves to deceive anyone happening by into believing there is nothing to it. they walk on by heads held high on their way to the promised land.

we want everything. we got nothing. this is what others wish to believe about us if they think about us at all. we are squat to them as they are to us. whatever.

it's all in our mind what is and what is not. petulant petunias growing in our hair styled in the latest fashion of opposition. our given mission to expose the underbelly of the project as we can but to no use. it's too late by now and long ago. the project cannot be stopped. everybody's in on it knowingly or not. so there. how about that?

the project is good and just. it is evil and cruel. it is all that it needs to be to get the job done. the job is itself. the object of the project is the project. to continue is its mission.

but seriously, the clown returns from getting supplies. sitting at the counter wondering where and/or when things begin and end. there is always before beginning and after ending. but that idea doesn't make $$$ for anyone so it is dismissed as nonsense.

an iced mocha. the 1st of the season. yummy. waiting for the van to be unloaded so he can come home. while the bad guys pillage the world, he waits.