You'll never see it coming.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Saturday, February 21, 2015
We: a culture amused into a strange veneration for degradation, wanton violence, lazy lawlessness, automated assassinations, security theatrics, general buffoonery, reckless behavior, self-poisoning, self-castration, self-immolation, shameless narcissism and wholesale stupidity...
Can I get some hot-sauce with that?
the invisible realm is more prevalent than the visible- that means more things exist that we cannot see than do: yet we take stock in the facade, the seen, the mere image of reality – not the inherent, essential truths that are therein.
the lie is big, babies, so big that you can’t even see it because you cannot believe that something so big could be a lie. It’s like finding out your family is an alien entity that has commandeered your mind and imprinted this visual world upon you so they can feed off your psyche, or that the entire universe is a virtual simulation operation (it is, by the way).
so many lies have been bought by the general population that we do not want to admit that we’ve been utterly taken, bamboozled, swindled – so we buy more into the lie – thus helping to perpetuate it.
we learn to love the lie – so much so we have award ceremonies dedicated to the craft of the lie.
we vote for the lie.
we observe and imitate and teach our children about it.
we write entire volumes of histories based upon it.
we master it. we spread it. we cook it up. we paint it white, we sell it, we dish it out, we appreciate those that are good at it, we even make it seem that it’s ok (in some situations)...
we ennoble it, esteem it, worship it. we glorify the prince of it, and we take it to our grave. we accept it, want it, feel uncomfortable if someone attempts to shatter it. we crucify those that expose it, and we rarely face it.
the lie is gargantuan – grown as big as the universe itself because we have fed it with our souls...and this lie is not too big to fail - it is too big not to fail...
remember the loneliness, the madness, the astonishing regularity with which
the dawn of new crippling incessant vultures
would plick and pluck at the brain –
the hacks yuk it up - whisper your own demise behind your back
and stare blankly at you when you would look –
and upon the odd-chance you caught one of them attempting
to usurp your soul
they would call you nuts
and call it a day.
well now, he’s wheelin’ and dealin in the free-fornow world thus far...ain’t he, captain?
polished men in alien suits pretending nothing is going on
subliminally – in the
other circuit just your best interests at interest
and if you don’t pay, that’s ok
because they’ll just take away something you
do not care about anyway – (I shall not mention it here, they might be listening in)
but I think you and I both know what we are talking about...and if you don’t, then you are not in the
“know” nor in the “right”
but you just might be “up shit creek”,
might that not be a good tourist attraction?
“Up shit creek” – check it now, before the dam bursts and shit creek becomes shit river.
“fly fishing on shit creek” and other poems, O now that’s a title with style.
too bad that
‘s all I got.
a man of titles and nothing else –
as an aside:
I read about how google mail offers “death” services in case you die, and you wish to not have a derelict, ghost account floating about cyberspace rudderless and captainless – so you can set it so after a certain amount of time inactive the account will terminate (assume you are no longer among the living) and offer an electric tombstone. “Sorry – the being you are attempting to reach is no longer in service.”
"he sent many a good email"
the world wide web forges on.