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.