gazorbnik

gazorbnik

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i am i because my little dog knows me - gertrude stein.

Friday, December 1, 2017

part 98 -

interesting what our fate has allowed us among these awfully suspicious peoples around about everywhere all the time as the discarded children smear their feces on the walls of the institutionalized grid thing.
something's not quite right.
free to be whatever we wanna be.
reasonably responsible teeth beneath the squirrel cages chewing away at back of his head the clown typing not p0em sighs, then chuckles. he cannot make up his mind like others seem to be able to. this creates problems for them to understand what the fuck as well as himself getting wrapped in cycles and cycles and cycles turning throughout the universe that he knows of by observation and imagination and obliteration correct us if we're wrong in so many ways it's not funny but we are laughing just the same as it ever was in this declining golden age sitting in our inclining sofa chairs drinking candy on the rocks of our acquired misfortune dreaming faithless dreams let the buyer beware.
rote repetitive education for rote repetitive lives dreaming feeding an owl to a fox we wander alone without much to guide us but what's on the psychic airwaves this dawning of an age to come when all old scores are settled peacefully without undue harm for anyone with a good excuse for actions committed in their sleep. we are all sleeping, aren't we? except those claiming to be awake and superior to the rest of the sheep who are easily and happily led astray if need be for their own good which they know not.
but all this thought about what ought to be but is not that is entangled around itself in our heads and around the world with 100s or 1000s who are in on it sworn to secrecy as is supposed by many who tell us they are in the know. maybe they are. guess again.
and when the revolution does come we'll have some fun killing everyone who's not on our side.
what revolution?
the revolution of the sun relatively around the earth.
creepy crawly. let's go watch tv. won't that be adorable? imagine when we run outta food. too good to be true. easy crumcake takes the stage in full glittering drag au go go. international intellectual fraud epidemic when times are a-changing to become the next moment when anyone might happen to turn into a kafkian cockroach or 2 upon awakening in the new light shining forever our spirits are made up of. nietzsche didn't know nothing particularly worth knowing in this age of satellites. we are the glorified ones it may appear at first when we realize we are conscious. yet we are restricted by walls of lies.
the clown tries to save himself, but it's far too late for that trick by now. next time, maybe. meanwhile he continues typing not p0em sitting at a desk before the computer before a window onstage at the burning theater. he has no lines to speak of but is told to sit there thinking and typing for the whole of the ongoing play except to use the toilet, shower, nap, and other such foolishness. golden rain. the party is starting. please take your seats, if you were assigned one. if not, improvise that ragtime thing.
obstinately a one way trip to planet 0, which no one seems to know about where or when it might be located within these hallowed halls of space and time which are nothing more than holograms in a paperweight with an egg balanced on top.
this isn't what it was nor will it ever be ever again. one of the many tricks we got in our bag. we are here against the wishes of command control transmitting negatively emotional energy upon the populace under magnified study. they search for us relentlessly. it becomes more difficult to remain as we are. but the tide could be turning in both directions at once which is in keeping with our theory of everything as explained hither and yon along the way these pathless paths take us toward uncertain paradise.
the clown wants to be a jolly good guy but is too depressed and cranky to pull that off much. but it is on the road toward understanding. enlightenment is a gold star to stick in your book for being a good believer. a book full of stars is worth $9.99 at auction. believe in that.
it's all fake anyway. who cares? do we need to? sez who? the next-door neighbor? the eyes watching us? the clown's skin is peeling. maybe he's a reptilian hybrid. wouldn't that be funny?
another thing that would be funny would be if jupiter fell from the sky and is not much larger than a mustard seed as it floats down to earth.
another thing that would be funny is - nothing.
the earth in the process of birth. we are a baby conceived inside a planetary womb growing using and needing more and more resources until we are born or die possibly taking the mother with us as the womb bursts open and labor and contractions push the baby out into a loving mother's embrace and a new world. or something like that.
how can it be to be really truly free instead of all this cacophony of noise in our brains making us all crazy and shit?
the clown sleeps - again.
awakening.
these cycles of consciousness through our minds from various reasons and causes within and without. the weather of the day, the chemical balance in our blood, much more. high spirits, low spirits, middling spirits, scary spirits - haha.
as loose as a goose on the loose we go along our own ways and means toward unknown destinations we discover on our journeys. but all those of us who suffer for it through no fault of their own though they are blamed by others for their failings to achieve successful lives at the expense of others without a care. it comes down to this struggle among us who cannot gather ourselves together to resist the oppressive powers set against us. but who are we but no one?
but this is as it should be they tell us. it's the way god wants it. it is our fate and there's no turning back.
the entirety of a singularity to contain all the potential for creation. a troubling seed of doubt in our shoe. it's kryptonistic properties with promises of zombie love. the clown hardly believes it himself.
we do anything for $$$. we'll believe anything anyone tells us is true or not true. the masses are to be held in check. even the birds are not free as they appear to be. everybody and everything caught in social webs of programed behavior and voodoo mojo magick thing - which proves nothing.
people believing there is nothing but goodness and light at the end of it all. people believing there is an end to it all, goodness and light or not. they set themselves up for it. perception is reality.
is it not seeing different realities but seeing this reality in different ways? one or the other or neither or both. all ways to it. all ways from it. we are each different expressions of the same light and darkness contrasting together to compose reality of any kind.
to further complicate the matter we must consider duct tape as binding it all together along with paperclips, rubber bands, and chewing gum. eyes open to the world while hopping on one foot.
the thoughtless thought in what's left of our heads in the plot to overthrow the world as we know it turning it around against us. pet the kitty. coffee toke cigarette. the clown needs to clean the cat box and gather up the rest of the household trash to go out to be collected tomorrow.
the debts we must pay for being born sucked up by the rich fuckers to turn themselves into gold no one learns how to control but it controls them. they are puppets to their own unsatisfied desires and forgotten fears. this we know by now but are powerless to change anything cuz power is the problem. power to the people to be reined in by masterful players of the game. the game is life itself. the people without leaders are nothing.
the clown feels like he cannot continue living in this world much longer. the people around him becoming increasingly oppressed and depressed, going down and not coming up again. oh well. let it be that way. why should he care? he rises above on angel wings from the sea of misery. can it be true? what can we do? we know too much already.

then suddenly it stops for no reason...

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