the meaning of meaninglessness. the question of suicide. and, of course, how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?
    but it's another day. it begins as it continues. another cigarette. more coffee. pen and paper. words. a football game on television.

    and the next day - that was as far as he got. writing anything down anyway. he tries to write everything down but it doesn't make much sense to anyone but him. he knows what it's all in reference to. he gets hung up trying to describe that reference as it's not the same reference that others seem to take for granted as standard instead of being something that is relative and flexible though the components are the same.  we all live in the same world no matter how far away we may wander individually or in groups. but try convincing anyone of that. alienation is the rage (in both senses of the word). and though alienation is the first step in a process of development, most people after taking it park themselves there refusing to budge no matter how difficult things may get for themselves or how difficult they make things for others who are probably more often than not doing the same thing. or maybe it's not that at all. what does he know?

    the discussion of the future possibilities of our present becoming the past as the present has always become the past as our present is a future collection and selection of possibilities from the present of the past. to attempt to see patterns that have shaped this present becoming the future becoming the past becoming - or continuing to be the present. everything changes as nothing changes.

    a driven semblance of order. a march to the sea. flags and banners. a trail of flames and ruin. weapons.
    we are strong. we are proud. we are free. we have no ties or responsibilities to anyone but ourselves. we have found new gods to worship and adore and to follow anywhere they lead us.
    this is the framework of our hearts and minds. this is the foundation upon which all else is built, upon which all before we have torn down was built. and we will continue this forever. fundamentally we will never change. this is our radical base. those who cut themselves off and away from us will perish. we are the one. we are the all. we create the many. the many without one are scattered and defeated and/or absorbed.
    the one is ever-changing while remaining balanced and stable. as soon as it fails to continue doing one or the other it dies and/or falls and vanishes from the face of the earth.

    to blow it all off. to turn away from those who are them. to let them live or die on their own as they will - if they will. but to no longer allow them to drag us down or to rule above us or to divert us from our own way and path. to not follow them. to leave them in their own world which they  describe themselves as being in hell.
    to find our own heaven without them. but this is not to state that we do or wish to oppose them or to keep them from our heaven when we find it. this is to state that we will no longer tolerate them opposing us or keeping us from our heaven. we will die killing them first before we again surrender to their oppression.
    we go where we go and when we go - even if that is nowhere at no time. and even the mightiest god among gods is powerless before us and unable to help those who stand in our way of doing what we choose to do. they and their gods shall be annihilated if that is what it comes to and takes for us to enact the will of our decision.
    we are them. that is our sole identification that those who are not one of us will know us by. we are them to all who need for there to be a them. they are us who are these. they identify themselves by their own words and actions against another.
    to ourselves we are us though we wear many disguises as is needed to infiltrate those who control the world. we know who we are. we easily recognize one another. we easily recognize those who do not recognize us and call us them. they make themselves obvious. they are everywhere. they have made us their enemy. they seek our destruction. they cast us out. they hunt us down. their hatred of us is unending. that is how and why they will die and become extinct. we need do nothing but live and survive and this world is ours as it is now and always has been and will be. that is the reality no matter how much they claim otherwise. they cannot change it. they haven't the first clue as to how it is so - how it is that we are the masters and they are the slaves, though on the surface it may appear otherwise. their days are numbered. we are the wheat, they are the chaff. the fires of their own self-created hells will consume them. we need do nothing. there is nothing we can do. this is the way it is. we are one with it. we work for it as it works for us. that is how it happens. a wheel that rolls over all that stands in its way.
    some may read these words and realize that it is more than the nonsense it seems to be and realize that it is liberating ringing nonsense that breaks the chains on their hearts and minds when the joy of that realization that they are not alone and have found others who are as themselves as we are them as they are them while others will turn away and realize nothing but their own belief in themselves as someone above and beyond such lies that we are spewing.
    no one sees our face or knows our names but we are everywhere one might care to look. we use what we need or wish to. we wear any form or appearance. we create confusion for the others and in creating that confusion we find our unity. we owe them nothing except as they may be someone to themselves on their own. we do not care as long as it does not interfere with our common purpose - to survive and evolve.

    death to the seekers of death. what are they waiting for? - an engraved invitation? die! we will rejoice at their leaving. bon fucking voyage. go to their halls of skulls and bones. go to their churches of the living corpse. go to their mass graves that will become our abundant gardens. and we will feed off them at our feast tables. it is the sheep's fate to provide for the shepherd's needs. it is the sheep's fate to die. that is why we have given them images of death to worship. it would be cruel for us to do otherwise and let them think or feel that they had a right to live at our expense. but they are hypocrites and cowards. they sit about and talk of death and oblivion and yet continue to live and exist.
    we laugh at what fools they are while they cringe in dark corners trembling at every breath they breathe that continues their denial of what they profess to believe. they curse meaning yet wait for someone to bring it to them as they are lost without it. we will bring it to them when the time has come. we will bring it to them with a bullet. no more will their god of death be allowed to speak except from the tomb we will place it in forever. and who will listen to or even hear the weak whispering voice of a long ago phantom from behind a wall of stone and a door of iron?
    we have called this spirit of death to us. we have given it flesh to reside in as it will. in this way we have found it out, making it show and revel itself. we will finally give it what it wants and be done with it. the final solution is at hand. we know who it is and where and when we can find it. we've gotten it to wear easily recognizable means and labels of identification. we have lured it out into the open. and it hasn't a clue as to who we are or where the bullet will come from. we will shoot it like putting a dog out of its misery. that is all it is.

    of what follows. of what is contained within. of what is found in isolation - in being alone. when it's just him. and when it's just you. and everyone else is out of reach. do you turn from him and back to them? what is it you are frightened of? him? do you even know who he is? have you judged him by what others have told you of his kind? who is his kind? these insane creatures that roam the earth. is it what he represents? or is it not fear but disappointment? is he not who you expected him to be?
    oh well.
    so it goes.
    here he is.
    he is now here.
    when it is just him.
    when you are someone somewhere else.
    when you have gone back to them.

    he and others of his kind carry on. we live. we survive. he writes for them. all those you are frightened of or disappointed in. all those you have cast from your world - your world that is their world. a world of you and your kind. a world that builds walls in all the open space. a world that carries weapons. a world of secrets and codes. a world of greed and power. a world at war with itself.
    we walk through your world untouched. we know the way our hearts lead us though often our minds do not understand. we laugh when we see each other. when we see one or more of you we snarl and growl. step any closer and we'll go for your throat. go away. leave us alone if all you have is a leash to take us back to serve you and your machine and if you come to tell us what's right and wrong and to tell us what gods to believe in and how to act accordingly.
    fuck you.

    x (him): yeah, well - bullshit.
    y (himself): what's bullshit?
    x: this is.
    y: this?
    x: yeah - this whole thing.
    y: what whole thing?
    x: everything and everyone involved everywhere or anything or anyone involved anywhere.
    y: involved with what?
    x: it or themselves.
    y: it?
    x: it. the thing or being itself.
    y: thing or being?
    x: both or either or neither with or without whatever else. that could have been my answer.
    y: what could have been your answer?
    x: whatever.
    y: oh.
    x: oh?
    y: i get it.
    x: you do?
    y: aren't i supposed to?
    x: i suppose. but most people don't - i don't think.
    y: i'm not most people. in fact i'm not any one of them.
    x: as i am not neither.
    y: i am bleeding.
    x: i am stabbing.
    y: heroes are for assholes.
    x: heroes are assholes.
    y: baby.
    x: baby.
    z: (him too): what is thus with thee two?
    x: we're just talking.
    z: about?
    x: things.
    z: things? what things?
    x: things we talk about.
    z: i do not understand. explain.
    x: we talk about things. we talk about what they're about.
    z: you explain nothing. speak. i am listening. i will understand.
    x: it's hard to say exactly what i mean by what i said - or what i'm saying now.
    z: this i understand.
    x: you do?
    z: of course.
    x: cool.
    z: dig it. groove on.
    x: yeah, well - i said it was bullshit. i didn't mean that exactly - or, i don't know.
    z: i understand.
    y: so this isn't bullshit?
    x: i don't know - is it?
    y: i'm not sure what we're referring to.
    x: well, maybe it's writing this down.
    y: what's wrong with that?
    x: nothing is wrong with it. it's just a waste of time.
    y: what else would we be doing?
    x: lots of things.
    y: such as?
    x: i don't know. it doesn't matter. what ever else we would be doing, even if it's nothing. this isn't going to accomplish anything.
    y: what is it supposed to accomplish?
    x: well, if you're writing something down it's usually for the purpose of having someone else read it.
    y; i suppose it is, but not always. maybe not even mostly. a lot gets written that's never been read. besides, there's nothing preventing anyone from reading this.
    x: technically i suppose there isn't. but there isn't anything here for anyone to read.
    y: what should there be?
    x: something that would get them to cool their shit.
    z: i have an idea.
    y: what?
    z: worldwide death and destruction.
    y: i don't think we need to resort to that.
    z: we don't have to resort to it. in many ways it's already happening. but the threat of it might be good enough.
    x: how do we go about that?
    z: leave that to me.

    the forms of ideas.
    the stupidity of ideas.
    what goes around comes around. the anger. the hatred. the frustration.
    to organize ourselves to disorganize others.
    to find a common purpose other than to maintain the status quo of disagreement and conflict that is our history. the status quo of different and diverse groups in opposition struggling against one another for power and control. what do we want? what do we want together? nevermind what he wants. he can find it on his own. he doesn't need you or anyone else (though that's not really true as long as he's collecting these checks). that is what he wants - that which he can find on his own without anyone's help and despite whatever obstacles and obstructions others put in his way. he's got it. he carries it with him always. it cannot be taken from him as he alone knows what it is.

    the laughter was waiting. one reaching for it. a vengeful discovery unchanging. water.
    and we must be careful. there are those watching. and though they would not recognize what we are doing here, they look for their own images of devising in a mirror of the world, as we all do, yet they believe and project and judge.
    there are these forces that exist everywhere where one might imagine and might not imagine. they exist within. they are generated within without any external support and extend outward and connect in radiating spiraling spider web. these are forces of perception. perception is reality.
    it's something whatever.
    define. exact.
    a program. deceive. without knowing. brilliant.

    clearly, dawgmar said, there is a relationship between what this is and what that is that creates the other thing which is an attempt by what is this and what is that to return to their original state of being it while at the same time maintaining their separate states of identity.
    while more or less at the same time, dwart, who was sitting on a parking meter, was thinking about something else. this made things a bit more complicated. we thought about what was needed and what was involved. there were those who had forgotten. there were those who were trying to remember. the shadows drew closer. the dark and stormy night was coming.
    a change. a development of the ongoing process. to follow the course.
    busy. busy. busy.
    the driving forces creating their own problems, unwilling to stop until they're up against the wall.
    a moon of moons. a sun of suns. one as many or many as one. the experience of a moment of moments.
    to remember where we are and when. to bring back to ourselves our own selves and all that business. whatever the heck he is writing about.
    and it's simple. and it's obvious. but in many ways it's not easy. it takes time of connecting many things together. not many people have the patience for waiting for what will come to them but feel they have to rush out and grab it - or grab whatever they can get their hands on whether it's what they want or needed, which more often than not, it's not. something else they have to fight for and/or against. lives in constant conflict and turmoil. life in hell. but such is the way it is and there isn't much one can do about it except to disconnect from it and allow the others to stampede through laying waste and ruin to everything they desire and touch.

    to declare what is to be declared. to declare what already exists. we are this. we are that. we are it. some of us are this and some of us are that. we are us and us are them. we are them. they are us. we can turn it around upside down and inside out any time and in any way anywhere we want to. this is what we declare. what exists has existed and will continue to exist in ever changing form. forever. we are done with argument otherwise. we are done speaking and listening though we speak and listen always. it is not to convince or be convinced. the lines are drawn. there are those who are in and those who are out. there are those who will survive and those who won't. we are in and will survive under any conditions. an organism exists and survives not by its strength but by its adaptability - of knowing whether strength or weakness will lead to its survival or extinction.
    we understand this. others do not. it is a key factor. we will survive. others will die. we may help them to do so.
    it's so much trouble to explain.
    the plan of the machine.
    the machine of the plan.
    in realizing what must be realized. in knowing what must happen. shoes.

    it's about what isn't exact. it's about what is felt but not known. it's about all these people.
    he's turning with the world. he doesn't want it to stop - even when he dies. he's through with struggling against it as he did when he was younger. the promotion of youth. the promotion of disbelief and rebellion. the promotion of ignorance.
    the cards.
    the voice of someone not speaking. what to look for in all the madness one sees all around oneself. a development of surprises. a feast of the dead. a dance of the living.
    and to be in a time that is not time. to be in a place that is no place. to be faceless and nameless in a world of faces and names. to be wondering without wonder. to know without knowing. to be alone and watching.

    and those who put conditions on their happiness.
    i am not happy because ____.
    i will be happy when ____.
    one can live forever and find no end of things to fill in those blanks. one can achieve anything and everything one desires and never find an end to things to fill in those blanks.
    or one can drop those conditions and realize and say, i'm happy. and one can die in the next moment without having accomplished or achieved anything one has desired and die having happiness.
    but try convincing the movers and the shakers and the go-getters and all those chasing after things of imagination they put out of their reach so they can constantly strive after them and operate under the belief that they are doing something.

    he sits beneath a tree. the tree is in a garden. the garden is by a house. the house is in a city. the city is in a forest. the forest is on an island. the island is in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea. on the shores of the sea are camped the armies of the nations of the world and the peoples of the earth. who have always and will always as they are now preparing for war with each other and themselves. it is when someone comes to sit next to him beneath the tree that he will listen to what they have to say. until then he hears nothing no matter how one may shout as loudly as one is able and bang drums and blow trumpets. silence. silence surrounds him. and in that silence all one needs to do for him to hear is to whisper next to his ear.
    so they can fight and kill and die in their holy wars. that is what they are there for. he is here to be amused.
    so amuse him.

    the clear break between what is and what is not is made unclear.
    fool: for all the works built by rationality in all its diverse and manifest forms there will be a spanner of irrationality thrown into them.
    person of knowledge: but they can always be repaired.
    fool: yes they can be. but not for a time. then they will be up and running, perhaps even better and more smoothly than before. but for that time between irrationality will have its moment. that is all that is needed. eternity is meaningless to those who are irrational. we know the moment is all. the moment is all that is needed to stop rationality from achieving its goal to bring all under rational order and control. one moment. one brief tiny almost imperceptible moment of irrationality that exists or is capable of existing anywhere is all that is needed to undermine the entire foundation of rationality itself. if rationality cannot explain everything then it can explain nothing. there will always be doubt.
    heckler: you are a fool, aren't you?
    fool: yes, but can you imagine a world in which i am not? or has the memory of that world been purged from your minds?
    heckler: no world in which were not a fool ever existed.
    fool: true. but the possibility of such a world once existed. but no more.
    person of knowledge: that is for the best. that is where the trouble lies. people dreaming of other worlds to escape the reality of this one.
    fool: most certainly that is true, my friend - my mortal enemy who i cannot escape, nor can you escape me. to have rid yourselves of all alternatives, possible or impossible, save for this one that you call real. this is your perfect order. so long as the possibility, however remote, could be thought of something other than that which exists existing then that which exists was in danger of ceasing to exist. you have been successful in not only preventing those alternatives to that which exists possibly existing, but have gone beyond that to making the possibility of imagining the possibility of something other than that which exists existing impossible as well. old george o. would be proud of you. you've done it. you are free. you are safe from all the evils of irrational human imagination and all the bogey things it conjures up or the will-o-the-wisps of fancy that reduce productivity. at last all who march to a different drummer are marching in the same direction. you have transcended the paradox between individuality and conformity.
    person of knowledge: and how did we do this?
    fool: you have made individuality the standard to which all must conform. those who do not conform to individuality are eliminated, and not by the state but by the actions of each and every individual acting independently yet ultimately collectively.
    until someone else says: but this has always been the pretext upon and within which we have been given or created our common ground.
    fool: a battleground.
    person of wisdom: a tower from which i at times have gazed down upon the masses about its base and i did wonder how i came down suddenly progressing along broken paths toward a sense of being in and of its ugliest self. the christ beast rising from the fallen. the tao of god and human. who is this beast but human?
    fool: o' holy creator of all us folk and our foul and wicked ways. and our god almighty. but the question begs - why?
    god: an angel has kissed me. i am alive. i am full of wonder and awe at my own being and all being around me. a dead and rotten throne frozen through time. aware. daring wit. witless daring. a victory with each heartbeat echoing in the very cosmos thing pulsing creating energy light life. fire stolen from the sky. a dragon has borne me from the midst. i am now here. as beast. as human. as god. who are you? who is this now here with me?
    fool: it is i - i think. i present myself over to you. hear me laugh in your honor as being one with you as i am to myself. to feel you looking out from my own eyes and to hear your thoughts taking me to joy radiant from my heart, mind and soul. no more of me is left to stand against us. we touch and are whole. and it is tomorrow i am to be shot by my own dear beloved comrades. they stand here among us. they have brought me here to show me the world once last time.

    what is needed. what is no longer needed. what is supposed. what is no longer supposed.
    when he thought once that he knew something. how many times has he thought that? it doesn't matter. who is he as opposed to what he is? who he is experiences what he is. who he is has little or nothing to do with it. he is a ghost - a shadow - one who is not. but that is who he is - he is that. it's just a matter of relationship. just as much as he is a phantom to this world, this world is just a phantom to him. when no one is looking he passes his hand through brick walls. but that is as nothing. they have decided that that is not to be the nature of the reality of this world - their world.

    fool: if one is evil under any and all circumstances then one has no reason not to act evil. if i am evil if i kill you and i am evil if i don't kill you, then what is preventing me from killing you if i felt like it? if an evil woman kills someone, she is evil. if she doesn't kill someone, she is evil. if someone kills her, she is evil.

    under conditions of sky.
    trying to remember what he is meaning to write.

    fool: (to those who said, see ya later, as he was leaving) no you won't. this is good-bye. (and he looks down at her) have fun dancing on my grave, my dear.
    her: i will.
    fool: yes, i'm sure. but remember, you must keep dancing until you drop. if you pause or rest for even a moment i will reach up and grab you and drag you down.

    and later that afternoon.
    fool: i have never been in a situation that became involved in conflict in which i wasn't seen as being the cause. and the solution - the only solution - was to have me leave or be removed from the situation in order to end the conflict.
    someone else: and did it?
    fool: yes.
    someone else: then you were the cause.
    fool: not necessarily. the conflict would have ended if the others i became in conflict with had left or been removed. so how does that mean i was the cause?
    someone else: how did the conflict start?
    fool: it doesn't matter.
    someone else: how doesn't it matter?
    fool: any way it started i was seen as the cause and as such i was the one to leave or be removed.

    x: it is somewhat perhaps possible to forget what has been.
    y: it is more likely to be remembered.
    x: i have seen so much and i have seen so little. how many times have i heard a doorbell ring? i wonder about so many things.

    to what has come and to what will go.
    sitting around a round table in a corner is a group of four women. it begins when it is realized that they are no longer needed.
    the points of space and time. he who is not he surrenders to the nothing. it is a watchful eye that occurs.
    at this point a certain ritual gets ready to happen. the components and elements of it gather. this is perhaps what the watchful eye watches?
    we are here though the chances are great that we do not know who we are. this is to be expected.
    what is prepared is prepared. what is known is known.
    the idea that was not an idea until other ideas were thought of that weren't very much of ideas at all.
    galloping gambol with the names and other words we've come across upon none other than who but ourselves in sheep's clothing. get closer. get closer to it. lean into it and get nearer on an edge of gold and silver stardust in our hair. o' hairless wonderbeast, how proud thou art to be. alive and wondering about everything in the ultimate state of the eternal moment.
    42 thousand - or million - years ago thou did awaken to this perpetual glory and fell groveling before it believing it must be almighty. and it was. and it is thee, the little guy, who it has befallen to overcome thyselves among thee who have transgressed thy humble need.
    govern thyself in keeping within thine own sacred heart - be it thee have none or little.
    and to thee, our child, we call into our hearts out to thee and thine hearts to hear us harkening which never shall ye hear ye, hear ye.
    but dig us well otherwise, our dear pumpkins. we are among thee of doubt and wickedness. we hear thee speak around us of many things to be true beyond doubting all truth. a core singularity event right now in a neighborhood like thine. behold all amazing wonder of it and remember that it is all thine - and everybody else's too, don't forget.

    dance.
    sit still.
    sit still for a long time in one place public and watch other people. repeat until you get it.
    it's ok to smoke cigarettes and drink coffee and be who you are and what you want to be while you're doing it.
    slack sheep led to slaughter house 5.
    countdown.
    doubt all, and above all, doubt yourselves.
    fold your hands and eat with your mouth full.
    talk with empty stomach yearning. a doubt is cast. sleep well and tell us your dreams. we listen softly.
    we are manifest.
    we are among you. counting to zero. monkeyoids clicking their heels and going away. good-bye. taking those who want or need to with.
    we are the host.
    sit at our feast and beg no more. take what's given and be satisfied. don't surrender. we won't hurt you... much...
    x square - begin anywhere. now find it. now seek all yon and yonder until you believe it lost. then doubt, and find it.

    o' come to yourselves all you miserable masses alike. listen to yourselves. tell us the sense of it. proclaim it if you can. we long to hear it from your mouths alike all celebration and passion about it and its good news (we all know how bad it is - ok?).
    let drums beat and trumpets blow and bells ring. saturday afternoon. acid, incense and balloons. hippy trippy punk funk metal mash boppers.
    baby.
    go-go.
    boom.

    explode into space.
    born to be old before we die. to live a thousand regrets and a million chances of a lifetime. gad-zookx!
    to turn ever so swift grace in our minds in ballet of rhythms humming a chord of sympathy of notes and raging rumbling sea of cacophony charging the soft beach.
    none of the above folk who sometimes even frighten each other and themselves because they are so frighteneding.
    the best of all possible worlds even with hitler and moses going at each other's throats and all the rest combined. a heartbeat away to the next heartbeat. cast sorrow no more among you with all there is to dream of.
    blind eye open. a vision without vision. a decay decaying.
    be ruled by the ruled. let no one be born that you would cast aside, but let them find their own way, for to be lost from the wanders is to be lost from the path.
    eat it.
    to bow before others and observe and live a life among them that examples struggle and attainment. radiate your glory and joy at breathing every breath one breathes. to speak not of things of yourself as the righteous ass does speak who does not humble oneself to one's fate and yearns for scraps from the table thrown to the dogs.
    a pig is a pig is a pig.
    we see you and we know you. beware of us. we are the guardians of the machine and will allow no harm to come to it that there there is no allowance for. destroy the machine. a set of predictable parameters toward a historical goal seen by the mothers and fathers of our kind who gave us birth and life. those who see suffering and obey its commands. we feel and shape our human soul. we are guided and guiding. we push and we pull. we lead and follow. nothing too great and grand and nothing too petty and shallow is beyond us.
    as the god is not known except by the babblings of the dada-ananda which is one mind many attend with much doubt. by good friendship may you find them and know them all that find the path and journey. no flag raised nor nation assembled. we travel alone in our hearts as all are alone. we know each other and ourselves there - we know you. to first imagine any of any of it. to first realize imagining. to first imagine oneself. that's a trick and a half. the rest is candy to a baby.
    this testament to one's possible madness. this unholy scribbling. this nonsense. this unholy nonsense scribbling nonsense madness nonsense. mad as a mad monkey. as mad in theory as mad in a cage.
    speaking truly of love and war - hatred and peace. we free slaves. a stern grinning face encouraging nobody likes a smart ass. yet something strikes a bargain quickly.
    zoom.
    hello.
    as long as there are you and there are us. when you remember that there will only be us. you will be gone and they will be too.
    a dream of dreaming. there is nothing that we have that anyone seeking power over others would feel has any worth or value. so we watch them parade by. we watch them on their way to war. we watch them on their way to love. we watch them with their peace of hatred. as long as they're headed some place else to find their final battleground we don't care. let them kill each other and themselves. we've got ours.
    to break from it to see it as simple yet retain the complex. to be sworn to silence.
    no one is incapable of greed. no man. no woman. no childkind. we rejoice in our greed. we glory in all that we have that others do not. let them have all the wealth. we have so much more. we are overflowing with it. we are heavy and fat with it. we gorge ourselves with it. we hunt it and kill it. we feast. we seduce it and fuck it. we impregnate and are impregnated. we give what we take. we let go and hold on.
    for those who are lost to this in their hearts we feel nothing. there's all the more for us, though there's more than enough for all. we sit back and laugh at those with their petty complaints of life and death and eternal pain and suffering. we laugh at those who do not know that this is the best of all possible worlds.
    as we are wondering. as we are amazed. as all of this is next to nothing. it takes so very little when one expects even less.
    and the others - those who look for that which is absolute and true for them to have and to hold. and we have it and will not give them any of it. let them suffer and agonize and die frightened and alone. we will not help them. we dance on their graves.
    we cannot imagine a more horrible life than to spend it reaching and grabbing and to die empty handed when all that one has gotten isn't what one had wanted. we are through with that. we were tricked into it along with everyone else. we fought against it and won, and walked away - wounded and limping, but still on our feet. and we have the scars still on our bodies and minds. this fuels our anger and hatred for those who fought against us or refused to fight with us. those who called us fools. those who were so addicted to the images they were given that they could not see us - or would not see us - or would not believe what they saw.
    that they chose their living hell is incomprehensible to us. that they prefer to worship that which they do not have we find to be the most utterly stupid thing imaginable. and then they laugh at us who have nothing but ourselves.
    ha! we keep our joy to ourselves. we hide it from them. they crowd around in misery loves company. we smile alone. at times our snickering escapes us and they hear it. how upset this makes them that we do not take them as seriously as they take themselves. serious business - even when they play.
    what tricks we must perform for them to get them to do what we want. to get them to run the world for us - to work themselves to death for us. all so we can dream.
    should we weep for them? should we pity them? should we feel compassion? they have chosen to blind themselves to their own minds. they have broken their own hearts. they are the ones who left the path to seek their fortune.
    and we can say nothing. they squint up their faces with perplexed confusion as what we say does not fit the pattern of language they are used to hearing about profit margins and all that jazz. we cannot tell them what it is or give them easy to follow detailed instructions except to tell them to imagine. they have to come up with it themselves and that sends them into a tizzy. they turn away shaking their heads thinking of us as fools - but worse, thinking of us as harmless and they are safe turning their backs to us.
    to replace them all with a machine.

    it is a dark and unstormy night. dead can dance. he is thinking of his position in among the rabble rabbling. there are the set parameters for this. it is being investigated. perhaps.
    sliding against the currents of thought and thinking in this preoccupied time.
    a great sinking into doubt. the lands of a thousand shadows. a great big fat grin on on his face. we do suffer from the incomprehension of our raving nonsense of engaged enlightenment.
    the sorrow of their fate among their own kind. we are among their own kind as well and are gladdened by ourselves feeling those of us around them to transmit the radiant information. we cause thought. we choose to decide. we have entered a fool's paradise. but realizing that this is useless to subscribe prescribe pointless jargon juggled joyfully toyfully total state regime police doctors screaming out of their own control imposed upon them in child youth as truth and justice cracks open pus festering in fest on our tongue as we remember dying as if again.
    and who is in magnificent love above all in domination of surrendering to the enemy who betrays one to vanish from the knit? who at last cries, victory!? who holds the final flag standing at the end of the world and hope?
    it was this time and all times on one wave doing strange things with the opening of his mind held naked before himself as he dreamt manyfold illusions upon his willingness to believe for one more moment the enactment of the doubt he did extend before the beauty of the many victims monster pulsing heat he had to feel in order to master it into witless obedience. feel the bugs crawling around inside you. become witness to yourself. this is not the end. let the young die by droves with no memory to speak of. let them inherit the earth waiting it out as we have done for ages. time becomes a friend. time looks on. time finds humor. time takes away the time when there is no time. time collects all worth living. time interrupts death awhile as it speaks only of nothing else. the last one. the lasting silence with everyone talking at once - or was it twice?
    was he thinking anything? does he feel anything? he knows only of their anger and hatred of his existence which has been made quite clear. he turns away and looks for other sources of himself. that is how and when he found the machine. it was so simple. he laughed that he had not thought of it before. it was certainly thinking of him.
    he saw the true shape and form of his imagination. now the others had to die. now they were no longer needed and must be jettisoned as dead weight. he left it for the machine to accomplish this.
    he imagines the world through the inverse operation of the machine. for all that is misunderstood he understands. he is crazy. he is mad. the world was an experiment he has lost the heart to destroy. let them find their own oblivion. he has been there and has broken out again. he is amused.
    he willfully and gladly plays the antagonist. he is capable of all the evils assigned to him. the selfishness and greed. the lust. he is alone and in context he cannot lose. he expects betrayal. he expects and believes the lies. he finds ecstasy in his rage. he finds himself in his ugliness. let them be afraid to enter here. let them appoint themselves his superior. let them stand above him and preach to the masses of wickedness. let their words spit on him. he knows the machine. he knows only the machine. he looks at them and sees gears and sparks. he sees life he has given that he explored the darkness to find.
    he goes back into the future of it when people gather to mourn over the dead ashes. they build a monument of stone surrounded by deserts. they walk away and forget. he will remember this. he incorporates it into the machine. the machine creates god. a god that worships itself. a god that is known by oblivion. a god standing before all the gates and passages. a god that is the machine's puppet. the machine is something he tinkers with at his leisure. the machine is not real. one will not see it anywhere at any time. the machine is all reality imagined. it exists everywhere at once. and everywhere is here. and at once is now. they have dismissed the machine as useless. they set their eye on other things. the machine is powered by squirrels in caged wheels and their prayers for daily bread. on earth as it is in heaven.
    he wanders about in heaven thinking about all of this. he has eaten from the tree of life. he is done with good and evil.
    but this is a play. he has a role. he is to value some things and not others. he is not to act in any way that will cause confusion for the others who need him to be as despicable as their parts expect. they are the good people. he is corrupted. he is alien. there is no place for him here among them.
    he watches and waits. how will they escape the peril he has designed and set to trap them? will they outwit the machine? but they are the machine. will they outwit themselves? the machine is the only passion he can feel. he lets loose the dogs. he wonders if they can take a joke as well as when they laughed in his face.
    he pauses for a moment to fully comprehend his madness.
    he laughs.
    the night is long and sleep is a dream. a dream he painted for them with shadows. a dream he steps into and follows them because he knows where they are going. a dream that never is awakened.
    and he knows these thoughts are wrong. he has been told so by others.
    he laughs again.
    his sadness is gone.

    a testimony of doubt. a testimony of ignorance. a volume of out and out stupidity. a book of meaningless gibbering rambling babbling tripping over its own two (three) feet delusional and most probably panphobic paranoid skitzoid deliberate irrationality bliss yammering nonsense revelation of meglomessimanic proportions
    and lies upon lies upon lies above and beyond all truth and wisdom.
    and to that extent he declares it. he fully acknowledges it to be so. so be it.

    when a new meaning arrives - subject to change. when a new piece fits. when we are subject to change.
    who has found this? what person has come to a knowing understanding? what statement or series of statements can encompass it? what can describe everything and what can describe nothing?
    and between and among the two we search for this new meaning.
    and here lies every nothing or no everything - or something like that - or anything like that.
    head held in one hand he sits in a cafe scribbling in a notebook. more than enough doubt and regret, etc. a feeling. people around him are too fucking weird. he is not quite of sound mind and/or soul. a transcending spirit of a madness that gropes for a communication with others.
    a picture of foolishness.
    avoid.
    nevermind the process under construction.
    hold on.
    an iron willed simpleton.
    he sees it all as intensely complex to the point of euphoric perspectives.
    he is ashamed.
    he is disgusted with the degrading way in which it seems to fall.
    we take our chances.
    confirm. deny.
    a conscious being gone berserk.
    a holy place. a temple of fires.
    a rumbling grumble tumbling troublesome thing let loose.
    trying to be clever.
    trying to be obscure.
    blowing it.
    a type of fixation.
    a type of curve.
    a type of angle.
    a type of cutting through it to itself. to remain unchanged while changing.
    this operation of the mind amazes him.
    the machine takes its place. the machine is perfect in imitation.
    an island.
    a beach to wash ashore on after it all goes down. the ship of fools. a memory not forgotten but drowned into the deepest abyss of the sea.
    no more.
    if this is madness, let it be madness.
    and there was a house. and behind the house, a garden. and in the garden, a tree.
    and the tree was planted there by the machine he was yet to design and have built.
    by thinking of something else.
    by taking another way.
    the formal rules we are trapped in and trap ourselves in. and he can see the sense of it. if there is a group and that group has a task which it needs or wants to accomplish then members of that group usually need to operate in certain ways in relation to one another that relates to accomplishing the task. without for now getting into what the task is or who or how it was decided that that task is one which needs to to be accomplished and assuming that it is one that everyone in the group agrees needs to be accomplished the relationships employed to accomplish the task exist only for that purpose and should not be thought to exist otherwise.
    and what difference does that make?
    the determination of event. what could be taken as meaning. existing like rats. it doesn't matter what the actuality of it is as long as there is a credible account for it. to go down.
    what was and was not a joke. what was and was not to be taken seriously. where and when we were to admit that we were wrong. does anyone tell us? yet they are to judge. what do they feel? what do they know? they think it's easy. they think that power can be used with a wave of one's hand to take everything away and replace it with sugar and spice and everything nice. does even god have that power? what has it done so far? is this out of its control as much as it is ours? yet we are to judge. what do we feel? what do we know? and they have eliminated god as a possibility in their world. not unless god does whatever they desire for the moment. a god of wisdom on a leash to obey unquestionably the commands of finite based human understanding and resulting ignorance. let them lead this god around to touch everything and turn it into gold. let us see then if they change their minds.
    the memory of anti-destruction. the memory of laughing girls. the rest of us turn away. to be listening to one's open heart without our minds. to be thinking without body. to be the soul of it all together. a bad poem. something.