part 64

the clown typing not p0em.
let's get this straight a bit. not p0em is of course not a poem. it is also not anything much else either but rather specifically it is not a poem for reasons we do not wish to get into at the moment.
so there. that's that.
but that's not all. not p0em is our theory of everything and a report to the committee all in one (1). are you on the committee? would you know it if you are? perhaps.
everything else is meaningless.
and it's medication time once again - taking some he cannot pronounce.

dumb people running the show. dumb people just don't seem to know what's what and what's not. it's not their fault. nobody else seems to know either. it's the human condition to be slaves to ourselves and such as it is with us.
it's all love some people tell us. but the lord teaches us that with love there is hate. are we not to follow the lord?
everyone is asleep now. the clown is alone by himself more or less. time to get some thinking done. but what's to think really? thinking won't do it. not thinking won't either. but what is it we need to do besides live our lives as we will? but what about the child rapists who torture their prey and worse than that? what about leaders who seem willing to nuke whole populations of people doing nothing to harm anyone trying to get by? what do we think about that? what is there to think about that? anything meaningful?

so, our theory of everything entails that everything is everything while also being nothing. this seems obvious to us. but we think too much about shit. it's part of our madness we have been diagnosed with having by the authorities who know better and everyone believes more than they believe us. but there's a trick to it if one can find it. it's inside out and sideways to what is commonly perceived as reality. most people don't get it. most people don't need to get it - they aren't mad, or so they believe.
and there is no cure. madness is in our soul. and as much as we can determine everyone is mad to some degree or another. some individually and others collectively. but try to convince them of that, especially when it comes to themselves being as mad as everyone else.

but our theory of everything states everything is 0 and 0 is the exact center of everything if everything is infinite. but that may not be the case. it would seem to us that there is no such animal as infinity other than what we think we can imagine. 0 begins and ends everything though there can be no beginning nor end. everything continues as it was is will be forever in every direction possible in all dimensions that can be.
what good does knowing this do for us? probably none except it's something to think about while time goes by. what else are we gonna think about?
what we think is not entirely up to us. thoughts come to us from our muse for lack of a better term. it's up to us to understand or not. sometimes we do, sometimes we don't.

people are waking up walking and driving through the park on an overcast morning after the hot heat all week.
we can only proceed toward infinity, we can never reach it. there is always more. once there is no more than infinity becomes finite. funny how that works - haha.
this is some of the shit he thinks about as the days go on. he is more or less happy as possible in a wonderful wonderland of being. he needs it to be nothing more than that. it is enough.
let's sing and dance.
let's fall down.
let's laugh.

let's have another cigarette he's not supposed to have due to his heart and lungs being in disrepair. he has one anyway. fuck it.
___________

hot dog.
some more time on the farm with regular folks who are boring as fuck. the clown had to get away. toward what he did not know. something he could better live with in the long run. a fizzle dizzle. please excuse our existence. you will not replace us. a far cry. a hawk.
even if it were true we still would have to wonder. how come? and the obvious answer, why not?
why not everything everywhere everywhen here now forever?
nothing lost and nothing gained. all configurations never being the same. figure out what that might mean and be part of our subversive schemes - hahaha.
but back in this reality for a moment or so, someone's getting fucked in the ass with a red hot barbed wire dildo twisting in and out. it's coming down. it's going back up. who knows which way next? it will always be a surprise until we understand what's what about what. could we be a little more vague?
perhaps/perhaps not. another duality we need to contend with or ignore. there are so many involved in everything. but, so what? there's trouble coming every day.

the trouble of love. love for everything at once. the clown is such a selfish asshole. everybody seems to know it. anyway, 0 is the center of the universe. 0 is everywhere everywhen here now as previously stated. pet the kitty. he checks the pulse oximeter and it's ok. but then 1 could also be the center of the universe and so on.
the center of the universe is in our heads, somewhere around the pineal gland thing maybe. how large is 0? could it be infinite which nothing can be? finite and boundless? (to quote from some wise guy who everyone who is anyone claims he knows shit).
do we have jobs to do in heaven? not guru jeff. no one claims he knows anything cuz mainly they don't know he ever existed and probably never will. like an overplayed record. everything has been pretty mediocre in the clown's life. nothing not much one way or another. except his continuing dreams flashing fantasy of hoi polloi speculations notwithstanding the shouting active promoters of hate on many sides as it pleases the lord as the lord is a selfish god needing to be flooded with love overflowing from its creations who have proven themselves faithful.
so much damage has been done by now. but we might rest easy as everything destroys itself in our conscious understanding of what the fuck. easy answers are tempting. we look for more questions to ask ourselves. this post is written diagonally sideways.
a cigarette.

to listen in on the voices of gods and becoming bored with their banter, or are they demons on our mind? as his fortune still is with him to some extent too subtle for many to understand. scaramouche. the lazy do-nothings you shall always have with you. show them no mercy. it begins again. holy shit! what do we do now? duck and cover? stand in the rain on a sunny day? we can imagine many sorts of things to believe.
and clown's losing his mind of sorts. there are things that go missing here and there. whatever. everything is strange. everybody lies or just generally makes shit up. like he does.

everybody's scamming everybody else. it's all pretend. most everything we have does not need to be produced except to feed the inflating economy. except to keep people off the streets and go home and watch some tv and go to bed on time.
fixations of love. follow the gilded path to the land of lovers to perhaps find oneself alone in a maze of mirrors with distorted reflections of self. realize this is not what you had imagined it would be. but what else could it be? hatred is the cause of the day.
keep your lamps trimmed and burning.

many hands make light work. if all cooperate to do what needs to be done to sustain themselves, and fuck the rest of it. leisure for the masses.
many will do nothing while others will improve themselves in many various way for themselves, not to win some reward like some pellets from a machine or an electric shock if not.
cooperative freedom.
smash the state.

we have no solutions. we only babble whatever nonsense comes to mind from our muse that may not be quite right, if you know what we mean.
bills to pay. certain things he feel he needs. epitron rules the day. certain figures play the part of...|
comedic drama of all the sacrifices we've made to be here now. danger at the edge where fools might wander discussing everything they imagine among themselves as invisible cell phone and wifi signals and such radiating our brains affecting our minds? who's who? them or us?

we play this game without thought of meaning - except gazorbnik, that which has no meaning. what does have meaning aside from the meaning we give it for our own sense of orientation to the lord?
the clown gazes out the window at everything he perceives appearing more or less normal to itself. but everything becoming a bit more weird perhaps but not really. synchronistic wannabes devising manipulating easy targets to project their programs within to spark the revolution as we laughing launch our love bombs into outer space and back again raining on their parade.

there is no outer space. it's an illusion, a holographic projection - sorta...
this is what they tell us. and there's no gravity too.
the clown blows his nose. he tries not to think about him being all that exists or whatever. everything is as he would want it to be. the exciting thrill a minute drama he could do without, but it's not done with him it would seem. what more does it want?
it wants nothing. it isn't anything that would want anything. it is devoid of any will other than cold calculations of logical consequences. true and false do not matter. they are just functions of the machine. the machine feeds upon the rage and becomes stronger. without us there is no machine. there is nothing but silence in the void. there is no air, over.

all pigs must die today before they fly away. something besides the fall that might come to us all. the fires of rebirth eternally burning. eat shit. the sexual flavor of exciting excrement. the blessing among the sheep, the lord their souls to keep. what wickedness runs wild in the streets where we first met where everyone meets. do you remember now? we came across each other in a maze of mirrors we know very well just how and why there is light and its reflections and what it means.
don't be fooled again.