Notes from the Edge

A Journey Into and Out of the Mind Revelation and Confusion Life – Death - Karma Existence Nihil

-Rizzo the Nihilizo


This is dedicated to anyone and everyone who has sought to know the truth with their heart, and has sacrificed anything to realize it. But most of all, this is dedicated to the Spirit, or as I like to call it, “the self-structuring principle”.

I’d like to thank my friends Sir Lugarth and Wilshire for their inspiration (chemical or otherwise), insightful conversations, and all the other help they’ve given me. Also to the Cohn sisters, for many of the same reasons – you girls are awesome. Many thanks to my homeless buddies and everyone I’ve met in my strange journeys who have either lend me a helping hand, a glass of water, or just a lovely talk. I’d also like to thank my sister for being so supportive. Thank you &Totse for wasting so much of my time, and yet teaching me so much…and getting me into trouble. Much love to Codyp. But most of all, thank you to all my enemies. You’ve made me who I am, and the more you’ve hurt me the more I love you. I do so relish a challenge. To everyone I’ve forgotten: you will be remembered. Many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first…

I Am Man
If one were to sit down on a day of no particular interest and count the number of human faces that populated the television screen, it would take little longer than the time it takes to count your fingers and your toes. This is especially true of the so-called “News Stations”; these talking heads are not only spineless and self-serving, but also heartless and unnerving. To call them brainless would be a lie, for they know better than most the tools required to swindle you out of your money, your opinions, your free-will, your dignity, your values, and your life. At first glance, one would assume that the end of the world is at hand and that everyone is insane or out to murder you. This may be true, but it is nothing newsworthy as this has been the state of affairs for thousands of years. One could look back to Sumerian stone tablets and read the cuneiform script; only to become engrossed in tales of ancient leaders engaging in taboo sex acts, or of large towers scraping the sky and eventually falling to the ground under the oppressive weight of their own corruption. It seems as if all news stories lead back to the gates of Hell. After getting sucked into the shiny graphics and mindlessly repeating logos, the eyes begin to glaze over and the brain becomes ripe for the molding. The overall frequency of the mind turns to such state that is very open to suggestions, especially those of a subtle or subliminal persuasion. Feelings of nationalism and brand loyalty are fostered into petty tribalism, turning one man against another and profiting off of it. That’s been the game all along; die for your country, for your team, for your politics, your religion, for the shirt you wear. Gang symbols and the symbolism of exploitation litter our screens, roadways, and anything they can get their grimy little hands on. Those disgusting hands, dirty with the blood and

sludge of a billion dead and more on their way. A legacy popularized by the era of the Egyptians; human life means little next to phallus-domination and sun worship. Is this the message we are sending to the next generation? That we are not human? It is time to stand up and have yourself counted, are you a man or are you a beast? Is this the face of humanity, or the face of carnal, animalistic filth and destruction? The time has come for each and everyone of us to look inside ourselves and realize that qualities that set us apart from animals, the pieces of us that set us apart from the machines, as well. Cold and callous, unthinking and voracious, it is time to smash the machine and chain the beast. I am man.


Of Play
To play is to learn in life, to live life you must play. Dull is that which moves little; nothing is that which refuses to move. Up and down, look at the colors; my how we all shine under the sun! We play by day and at night we sleep. We sleep and we dream, we dream of the life that we play. Ever the circle and never the square, moving round and around. Never stopping, always turning. The minute we stop is the second we die. When one falls we all fall until the wind blows us away. Ask not for whom Rover calls for; he calls for thee.


Dreams of Hell and Freedom
Strange dreams, strange dreams of men and war. Of fright and adversaries, of death and gloom. In such dreams I dwell, the passage of the portal of Hell pulses and grows. A sick green odor sludges from the bowels of pain, dripping acidic horror to wherever it may go. I sit and smile as the clock winds down, winds backwards, and eventually breaks down. So too must I wind down and break my back, backwards. In such lives we live, in such dreams we die. Then we are born, reborn, dismantled, assembled, and repaired to perfect condition. The condition being, of course, that we don't fuck up. Here I am! Once more, fucked up, drugged up, brought down and feeling down, with my head in the skies and my heart buried for dead. It still beats and the murderer will heart the sentence; justice will be served as one portion per day. No cholesterol, no artificial sweeteners, colored dyes or preservatives. No sir, this is the real god damn thing here! Don't talk back, for I am superior, inferior, neither, both, nothing at all, and owing much to quantum consciousness. Dare you heed my stories? Only at the cost of being liberated! Listen: free your mind.


The Leash of Existence
The process through which thought becomes action is a curious one. Which of us controls it? The conscious or the subconscious? The trying or the doing? What is the force that causes us to move? That moves us to do? Although logic sometimes leads us to believe that the idea of free will is naught but a fallacy, it is quite apparently a truth. If there was no free-will there would be no need for leashes. In fact, it is the leash itself that is the fallacy! How do we justify the use of leashes? We are superior and right; however, if we really were superior and right we would not need them. The shepherd knows what is best for the dog, and treats him as a companion, as an equal. He who knows best for himself knows best for another and treats another as he would himself. Indeed, any who would act your better is really your lesser. We are all but equal to each other, for we who are of the same flesh are of the same blood. We know who we are, and those that know, are. IF there is to be, there is to be nothing at all. There is no question. Existence desires futility.


Madness - The Product of Insomnia and a Vaporizer
There is no end to the madness, the bottom has fallen out and revealed itself for the true nature it holds within itself. The sinless nature of knowing nothing has been shown for the true representation of itself; ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance knows nothing of bliss, ignorance knows no suffering, but knows no bliss. The frightful will be over taken by the frightless – not by force, or even choice, but rather process of elimination. A gentle madness creeps over my vapors, crawls into my brain and slithers through my waves. The vibrations feed off of each other, a symbiotic relationship between the self and the self. Both sides of no coin – there is no coin but there are plenty of sides. This makes no sense, but it can’t, it is madness. While homosexual pedophiles are running the country, the churches, and the schools, people are finally waking up. Evil is rearing its ugly head and the people have become disgusted, or at least the people with soul enough to realize these situations should elicit disgust. A disgusting, disgraceful world that does not matter, an infantile creation of chaos and energy, the madness seeps through and wallows in its sacrilege. This, too, makes absolutely no sense, although maybe it could if this were not the same universe we inhabit. It most likely is not. Clouds pass by and I know the truth, they are watching and they are waiting. They take our dreams and they play in the sky. They dance and tell tales, and even light their own fires. To be a cloud would be a fluffy existence. Water is obviously the next scale in human evolution; we’re already mostly made of it.

Dolphins and whales have the right idea – they’ve immersed themselves in water even though they’re mammals. Cleanse yourself. Wash yourself. Water yourself. Grow yourself. Give fruit to yourself. Spread your seed, young plant, beautiful plant. Plant of the Earth, child of the Earth, give wings and give chase. Grow up and look down, spread leaves and leave knowledge. Know this: There is no meaning.


The Laughter of a Thousand Dying Souls
A laughing man once fell dying to his knees He screamed and he cried, he begged and asked, "please?" "Please, let me live!" - then no more, no cough or wheeze I stood and I laughed, "More whine with your cheese?" Through cruel eyes the world is a hell To live or love, it's always just as well Broken by the years, nothing more than a shell On such dark things the beast will dwell A thousand dying souls consumed by hunger, thirst, and winter One poor soul stands and yells, "Carpe diem!" only to disappear in a haze To become one with all, then to break off and splinter She asked the question and he answered back, "Learn to love these trying days"


Playground Pirate
To swing and to slide, to dream and to glide To cough and to sneeze, to cry and to please These are the words by which we live our lives These are the youth that will break free of the hives Look at my this, look at my that Look at me mother, 'for I old and fat Look at me scream, lest I not speak Look at this world - it will be gone in a week Play while you can, 'for ye'r worked to death Smile to the end, laugh your last breath Truly we all die for the question of why Sophia hath learn that all lives will burn


Observe Yr Observer
Inspiration gone, feeling alone Much to learn till truth be known Cataclysmic cycle, carry thy clone Until you forgive, lives are on loan Follow your torch through the unknown Trace the footsteps back to yr throne Observer the observer and soon you will see, There is no observer, not you, not me. Dead bodies lay limp, holding no soul Loss of the chimp, no illusion of control


Darkness. Depravity.
Enter into the most sinister corners of your decadent soul: Here you lie. Not dead, but not really alive. A product of a system designed to consume every inch of imagination and creativity and squash it. In this system there is no food chain, there is no progression, you live in squalor, you are a disgusting insect. A cockroach scattering under the feet of those who seek to dominate and control you, who rely on the millions of cockroaches that are just like you to keep them afloat. Floating, floating in a sea of short-sighted irrationality, of sinful pride and stupidity. The air is heavy and brown, the water likewise. Factories spew out smoke that mingles with the dense fog to create the lung-damaging gas known as smog. The wheels keep churning, but every single energy source has now been exhausted. Complete annihilation of the cockroaches and those that are doomed to become them is all that lies ahead. When an animal gets stuck in a trap it will bite its own limbs off to save itself; this is logical. But when a machine starts to consume itself to power its meaningless expansion, when it loses as much as it gains, how can this be rationalized? Imagine an animal eating its entire body so that it can survive, or, rather, look around. Yes, that’s right, lift your head up, your half-alive cockroach. What do you see? Not much, that’s the smog’s fault I suppose. It doesn’t matter much to you anyway, does it? All you are interested in is gorging yourself on food, leaving crumbs all over your residence, leaving stains on all your clothes, and

leaving bits of meat stuck in your dirty, uncared for teeth. All you care for are emotionally vacant orgies with other grotesquely obese monsters, with so much useless flesh flapping around, sticky and sweaty with the heat of copulating. You disgusting slob, can you even see past the next meal? Can you use females for something other than a depository for your seed, for something other than meat to grope? How can you justify yourself? Get up. I said get up, you lethargic ignoramus. How far are you willing to let it go? Do you enjoy being a cockroach? Do you think at all? Of course you do. Perhaps I am too arrogant, too quick to judge. This darkness that I see exists only in my mind, this system the spews insects is a product of my idle mind. The factories are synapses firing, the smog are chemical reactions. I am the cockroach. I am the annihilator. I am darkness, I am depravity, I am decadence. I am all this and more. I am nothing at all. And you, yes you, my dear “friend”, now cease to exist.


The Apple Tree
I am the tree Please eat from me

Tree, tree, tree
I am the apple tree

Tree, tree, tree
Please eat from me!

Eat from me and you’ll be free
Free, free, free of all your cares Free, free, free you all have shares! Free, free, free, free apple tree!

I am your soul Existence is goal.
Home is where the heart lies, Home is where the soul dies, Home is whenever ye’ be, Home is whatever ye’ see.


Love is Beautiful
I want to burn and Be taken in flame.

I want to release it all, And return to whence I came.

I've come from nowhere, And from there I shall return.

I will always be: Ceasing to exist

Yet I will never stop, Ceasing to exist;

That is I will never cease,

Ceasing to exist.

Structure, logic, Rigid formatting. Love blossoms: The envy of hatred.

Two sides wage war, a new side emerges: That of the dead. The dead do not emerge. The war wages on.

Stop pretending that you know And stop pretending to exist. You don't have the answers, And why should you?

We are creatures of question,

Not animals of answers.

Anyone who has created anything can not be held at fault for anything they've done. The sheer weight of creating something totally outweighs any suffering that anyone can ever have. Indeed, suffering itself is a most poetic experience, although poetry can only exist when observed. Suffering observed is suffering overcame, is your state of suffering no more. This is Hitler's inspiration. This is inspiration to all.

Anyone who has given themselves up for someone else can not be held at fault for anything they've done. When you give up everything you have to someone else, for them, out of love, you make up for every ill-word, broken-heart, and bruised body everywhere. In that moment, you have stopped thinking of yourself as a sole being, and you realize that totality of all things. In that instance you are filled with, bliss, peace, understanding, and truly you are forgiven for all. This is Jesus' inspiration. This is inspiration to all.

Anyone who has given themselves to music can not be held at fault for anything they've done. All music is a reflection of the divine, and all dance a tribute to it. Each musician, when creating out of love for music and not out of love for themselves, is giving themselves up to the creative power of the divine, and being healed in the process. Everyone who has let music have the power over the soul for even the shortest of times has given themselves back to whence they came. And knowing this, they are cleared of their fog of doubt, if even a

short time. This is Mozart's inspiration. This is inspiration to all.

Anyone who has ever given themselves up in the pursuit and search of the truth can not be held at fault for anything they've done. Anyone who has overcome their selves has realized that their lives are meaningless, and anyone who has overcome aloneness has realized that no one else exists. Anyone who has realized anything, has realized nothing. This is Solomon's inspiration. This is inspiration to all.

Anyone who ever has, or ever will be, can be, should be, might be, or isn't, can not be held at fault for anything they've ever done. In fact, nobody can be held at fault for anything, nor should anyone. We're all part of this together, and to act like we're not part of it, that we're separate and special and unique, and deserve special treatment is ridiculous. We all exist, and beyond that, none of us exist. The sheer hilarity of this tragic, Yossarian farce brings us together, unites as us one. We can do no wrong, we can only do right. The ends are the means. This is no one's inspiration to everyone. This is.

To think otherwise is to deny everything.

To deny everything is to cease to exist.

To cease to exist is beautiful.

Nonexistence is beautiful, existence is beautiful,

There is no difference, between the two.

In both worlds,

I still love you.


To Karen, God, French Cognac, and the man who gave it to me
Oh the stories I could tell, I could write. But what would be the point? To carefully document my history of infinity? Can one turn the sensation of bliss into a word? A sentence? I don't know. I watch myself write and ponder what I'm thinking. Hah! "I"! Like you really know who I am! I could spell it out and you still wouldn't come close to grasping the full significance of it all. Here I sit, at a donut shop in Southern California, hot chocolate in hand, notebook on table, and fine French Cognac in my belly. What does that mean? Nothing, this passage of writing is no better or worse than any other! You choose what is and is not suitable towards your tastes and act accordingly. Don't blame me; I'm just a speck of dirt under the fingernail of God. What am I doing? Anything I want. Why do I choose to do it? I don't. I give myself up to God. What is the point of free-will? My pride has been satiated, it has no further qualms. There is nothing anyone can say that will make me feel important or special. I am who I am, take me for that or move on. I don't need you, I've lost it all and have regained everything over, and over again. I'll never be at rest and I'll never be at ease. The meaning of no meaning, the way of no-way. Do to not do, not do so that you may do. Strive for the constant balance. Separate yourself from separateness. What does He want from me? To enjoy myself! Why does He ask so much? He doesn't. To God, I am but a lowly beggar. To myself, I am a failed warrior. To you? Who knows. Judge me and you in turn judge yourself. Words come and words go but ideas remain the same. These ideas may be arranged, re-arranged, pre-ordered, pre-fabricated, and uploaded to the internet for the enjoyment of the masses. Switch them around, see what happens. Who knows where this is going, starting, or ending? Not I.

The Nature of Mortal Reality
Life can be likened to a game. In fact, calling life a MMORPG is a most accurate description. Just as there are guides, manuals, FAQS, forums, cheats, and multi-player capabilities, so there is with modern, mortal reality, Although there are already many guides out there, many of them are out-dated. People rarely take the time to code in updates manually; programs often as to updated themselves. People then thusly take it on higher authority that the problem has been taken care of. No program is bug proof, and no system is safe from hackers. There are constant glitches in "reality" which can be seen if one looks carefully enough. To be able to look carefully enough, to cultivate that ability requires one to forego cultivating, which requires one to cultivate in first place. There can be no good without evil; first become evil, then become good, then transcend both. Outside of the system is a reality beyond description, for those who seek it. For those who stumble upon it, it may as well seem to be a hell.


Random Acts of Chaos
Random acts of chaos are similar in spirit to random acts of kindness. Indeed, to some miserable people, random acts of kindness are random acts of chaos. In spirit all ideas are similar, so this should not come as a surprise to anyone. Indeed, nothing should surprise anyone: we are the products of our own imaginations, and life is the remembrance of our dreams. The system is weak and you are strong, you can do whatever you'd like, but sometimes yr godly logic contradicts itself because of faulty assumptions. Redefine everything for yrself. People have the ability to refer to themselves in the third person. People are thusly not really persons. Your body is the Earth, your soul - the moon, your spirit the Sun. No matter! More energy! Matter is subjective, finite, limited, sinful, boring, unimaginative, restricted, organized and destined to die. Energy is free to do as energy pleases.

Cyclical Knowledge
Everything operates at many different levels, most of which are usually unseen. What is energy? Rather, what isn't energy? It is nothing, yet it can be anything. How does an electron feel? How do you feel? There is yr answer. Everyone desires to be selfless, however most people do not even have a proper self to give away. Before you give yourself away, know thyself. The best lessons in life are earned, not learned. Religion without gnosis is like eating butter without bread. However, those of you who know what that tastes like are already Gnostics. Seek and ye shall find; once found it will begin to seek. Seek and destroy, seek and create, seek and know. The Answer has many questions, so do not be confused even when you are confused. Conflict is the way of this world, but you need not take any part of it. You are one, you are whole. To the clean, all things are clean. To the filthy, the slightly dirty are immaculately clear. Thusly do not be concerned with either the praises of men who are fools, or the curses of men who are fools. Learn to laugh, for today we die. Have some faith, it breeds transcendsexually. Anything that can be said about God is not true. To learn you must listen, to listen you need to be silent. Silence the inner as well as the outer.

The Windows of Logicality
Until the Windows of Logicality are crystal clear, the Doors of Perception will lead man only to a grizzly hell. Hell itself is a construct of man: man sins, illogically rationalizes a cover up, then lives the lie. Until man is perfect in his logic, he can not transcend it and reach God. Immerse yourself in that which you wish to overcome. The surest way to moderation is excess, for as Blake said, "The road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom." Even that which seems wrong is still right, so do not fret over that which doesn't fit with your idea of the world. As within, so without: you are stuck between two mirrors, staring into each other, ever looking into the infinite. Know then, what you speak of. Language consists of abstract forms given meaning to convey a message; that is, words are not just words but are representative of ideas. Although many authors such as Hobbes have covered this subject extensively, the message needs to be updated to be properly understood. When using logic, be as logical as possible or don't be logical at all: turn language into a math or geometry. All the logical rules found in mathematics and geometry can likewise be applied to language. For instance, any statement which is true can be reversed. An easily understood example: "I" = human; human = "I". That is, all the qualities that "I" have as a human, any human would also have. Whether or not you agree with this particular statement is irrelevant, any problem with one side of the equation exists also on the other side. One might say, "humans are not just you; thusly your equation is not true." I wholeheartedly agree, with the addendum that "I" am not just human.

Tales for the Butterfly
Man is a fire, woman is a tree Life without love is a life that's not free Burn yrself up to give others light If there is no left, there is no right Do not feel bad about where you are Wherever ye be, love is not far Play with the butterfly, leave worry behind If you are a seeker, then truth will find Worry not what happens in this lonely life Painful with fright, mortality breeds on strife Make yrself clean, a vessel so pure Temptation is naught but a shiny lure


Man vs. Wild
The problem with the current man vs. nature paradigm is one which, like all others, disappears when in the prescience of the light of truth. To some people, there is an ever-increasing war between natural and synthetic. These are just more barriers put up to divide the true self from the ego; the discrepancy between those two are in and of itself an illusion created by the illusion. Maya turns on. In all the vastness of the universe, do you really think that there was not a use for that which man has made? Synthetics may be alien to the Earth, but then again, many of us are as well. The Earth, nature, life: they are not static! There is only the One which does not change, all else is the ebb and flow of the dance. Man has never stopped being wild, he has just been able to justify it in new and interesting ways.


Apocalyptica Discordia Maximus
Maybe if I write enough my logical mind will finally give up and I can have some peace. The more you think about it, the more you prod at it, the more it gets bored. There is, however, the possibility that I am just encouraging the continuity of the rational mind. I hope to be able to write without thinking, to smash the Windows of Logicality, to turn geometry into an art. My words will be like the Sistine Chapel. Or maybe my words will be like a turtle. Why does it need to make sense? The imposition of order leads to the escalation of chaos, the allowance of chaos leads to the escalation of order. Trombone. What is chaos? Probably note a trombone. Or at least, not entirely. Chaos may play a trombone, but chaos is not a trombone. Chaos is a tornado on fire in the middle of an ice-skating rink. Chaos is that which moves without being moved.


The Windows of Logicality, pt II
To some, the logical, rational mind dominates the majority of their existence, and to most of whom to which that is applicable, they do not even realize the extent of the control which logic has over them. You might notice this more with modern "Western" culture - although to cling to such labels is not advisable - because of the heavy visual nature of thought. Any activity where you are primarily using your eyes with little involvement of other body parts is a sure-fire way to be glued to the Windows of Logicality. The key here, as with all other conundrums, is the balance of the many sides of the coin. You really do not need to think in the fashion you do all the time. Add some diversity to yr life! Try doing things for no reason, or for a deliberately bad or weird reason. The only loss sustainable is that of yr mortal life; this even is not likely and if one knew the truth nature of their mortality there would be no issue.


Cyclical Knowledge, pt II
It is said that when the mundane becomes sacred, true magick happens. Logically then, magick is true when the sacred becomes mundane. Be satisfied with your lot in life. Only when you are happy where you are, are you able to spread joy to other places. Happiness is a reward, given for work. Pain and pleasure come and go like the wind. Recognize the transiency of life and know your place in the universal metabolism. There is no point in have boundaries if they don't form conflict. Countries are made for wars; any true, peaceful society would have no need for so many restrictions. How can man trust in God if he can't trust in himself? The best books make words meaningless, or transcend meaning. Faith and fear are at odds with each other; why fear when you can love and enjoy? If you are a sinner, so what? Have faith that even sin has a place in this amazing, mysterious existence. If, as Jesus the Christ said, that God is Love, then all "God-Fearing" folk are merely afraid of Love! Why would this happen? Love is all-powerful and has the capability to erase all conflict and transgression.

I Vs World
Why is it that I feel at odds with everything? Is not everything merely a facet of the all-knowing, all-being, allpowerful, all-loving being? Why should I feel worried about loving anything at all? Yet still I feel as if my very existence threatens to undermine what so many men have tried so hard to accomplish. I am the rock in yr shoe, the fly in yr face. I cause you no serious grievance, yet you despise me. I choose to live by night with my wife, the moon. I choose to travel on foot, instead of by machine. I try to help, yet to you I am but a pest. This is fine. I know the truth, God knows the truth, and together we shall paint a picture of glory, beauty, and serenity over this charred hell-hole of a man's twisted dream. The End is nigh and it will be a magnificent beginning. And yet here I am: watching, waiting, learning, loving. I hope I don't fuck things up once again. Have some faith, man! You know everything will be fine. You are not against the world, you are against yourself! What a tragedy! I will instead work to be at peace with all. Fighting brought me nowhere, loving gave me riches beyond compare.


Food for yr brain, sex for yr soul: Take a quick toke, soon you'll be whole Look up and down, do a back flip and roll Maybe it t'was I on that grassy knoll! Mystery upon mystery, judge upon judge Would you understand if I gave you a nudge? Sweet as chocolate, citrus like fudge! Move with or without the eternal budge... Poetry like grass, words as solemn trees If you are burning, soon you will freeze Walk on yr head, eat with yr knees! Do what you like: whatever you please! Walk to the sun, live 'neath the moon Waking at midnight, sleeping past noon; Chaos has always been mankind's boon (If I say anymore, they'll think I'm a loon!)


Drop Acid, Not Bombs (A Query into the State of Being Entirely Unoriginal)
Words without purpose, dreams without control A whale is a porpoise, a mole is a mole If you don't look then you'll never know This line is to break repetition The poem has lost all rhythm and has Turned into a satirical, situationist commentary On the irony of irony, or the lack of a joke This line here is for you "normal” folk Are you feeling confused, do you know what I say? Why does everything think that there is a better way? Once again these lines have stopped rhyming. I would suggest giving up all hope of clarity, Function, Function form, and Design At least in this poem; it is kind of weird Like waking up to realize that wall has a beard Or knowing that nothing at all truly exists Yet existence itself consistently persists Try as you might, will as you shall A point is a point, foul or no foul Yes the words are rhyming, but Don't get too comfortable for that Stops Here.


On This Lonely Road
On this lonely road, you are all I have Yet you account for everything and more. One this lonely road I kick up dust And I still think of you always. On this lonely road you bring me solace, peace, happiness and oh so much more. On this lonely road I realize that this road is not so lonely and I smile. On this lonely road the sun shines heavily until the road disappears This lonely road is no more.


A Dog's World
Chase a ball or scare a cat Don't do this and don't do that Piss on the walls, the floor, and the couch You're so unattractive when you act like a grouch! The grass is green and the sky is blue But what would happen if neither were true? Would you still go to work from nine to five? If you're already sunk, can you continue to dive? When plants can fly and the air has emotion Do you think Merlin could save us all with a potion? Or does Arthur still lie in Avalon Waiting and waiting for a brighter dawn? And so it is a dog's world if you happen to be a canine Did you ever notice a circle is just a fucked-up line? If the world exists only when we're looking, Do us a favor: close yr eyes and get to cookin'!


All so called "problems" in the world can be reduced, simplified, or exaggerated to merely be a lack of energy. Good and evil, as has been shown countless times, to be a subjective problem only apparent at a contextual level. In short, anyone besides God is a sinner for the reason that being at a specific point in space and time causes you to be short-sighted and relatively stupid.


Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, laughing, waiting, waiting, waiting, bug, waiting, waiting, waiting, writing! waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, dog, waiting, waiting, waiting, man, waiting, waiting, waiting, napping, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, crow Stopped waiting. Missed it.


I am Muse
Do you care, can you see? This place was never meant to be? This is the product of man not being free Welcome to some sort of dystopian, post apocalyptic cybernetic society! Yeah, I said it and the devil made it! God is watching and you hate it...

The philosophers stone: 420



Now that I try to write, the words disappear. In a haze or in the fog, but they disappear. Unfortunately, they never leave me for good. I am, however, trying to work up the will power for such an act. I know you're giving up Earthly desires, but that is no reason to shit your pants. realtors -> reality(tors) What was the real deal behind the fountain of youth? Crawling with bugs, bugs crawling with me no need for indulging in nonsense non-sense I'm houseless but not homeless.


A man once walked up to a mirror, pulled out a razor and trimmed the glass. He walked away unshaven, with a dull blade, and with a crooked mirror. When asked about his beard he walked over to the mirror, smashed it, and cute himself into pieces. His reflection broke free, stole his soul, and grew a beard. When asked about it, the reflection killed everyone. The souls of the deceased formed into a cosmological mirror, and the sky opened up whence the reflection saw himself. And his original soul descended and they merged into one, to stare into themselves and into the heavens and into themselves. They then ascended to the heavens, looked down, and saw nothing. Seeing this they were enlightened, but still unshaven. God gave them a hand mirror and a razor. They handed it back saying, "Barber, cut thy own hair." Their words formed an endless echo, each spawning an infinite Universe, the collective of which became god. God then cut his own fair. Seeing this, all were enlightened and clean-shaven.


Cyclical Knowledge, pt III
Look not into matter which can be found only in spirit Many things happen. You are one of them. Nothing can really be said, yet people persist in speaking. When a situation presents itself to you as absurd, know that the absurdity is you! Commit yourself to no one and no thing. Be open to all suggestions, but seek truth with your heart. In a world of fearful uncertainty, serene purpose is like a guiding light of divine love. Seek power over your self and your self alone. All others will fall into place. It is one thing to be humble, another to be right. Both are the same. Love is a symbiotic relationship.


Free Me
Sometimes I feel so lost, these times I have no hope My mind is so harsh, sometimes I can not cope So many conflicts that prey on my soul Eternal damnation seems to be my goal But maybe as Huxley said, my poesy should be new Should be about machinations and science, instead of what's true I fear losing all of what I worked so hard to gain Never have I loved so hard, never have I felt such pain Can even Lucifer be saved, or is this all but a dream? Nihilism has me by the throat, I fear I shall scream Doing and doing, and thought is thought I hope all of this was not for naught! Now though, I remember the only thing that has saved me That faith, that power of having no power except to be I relinquish my soul and I give up control to you Please let you be right and please let you be true I only wanted to do good, I care not for my "self" I've put my soul on display and my heart on a shelf I stumble so much and I fall so hard These are the words of the ever-lasting bard Deliver me, Lord, from this mortal Hell See me in grace and I shall be well My sickness will be cured and I shall stand tall I will get to yr kingdom if I have to walk or crawl

POST SCRIPT: Sometimes I am so serious, these times I need to laugh Nobody knows anything, yet reality we seek to graph I'm afraid though, that you don't get the joke Don't take it personally, though, it happens to the best of Us..........write, right; read, read. laugh, cry; need, knead. tunicate, expletive; live, give.


It was a striking piece of Modern Art, succulent to the senses but containing fright for the fearful. These material idols reminded us only in their destruction that we are alive and that to be silent is to Know. The villagers were friendly; though to the worrisome there was not enough knowledge. GrecoRoman and full of friendly disaster; friendly in the sense that the only adversary is that state of Adversarium. The sun still shines, the sprites still dance, and the trees still sing. But even that is just a natural tribute, a natural form of modern art. Their destruction, too, will be as beautiful as their lives are now. My own destruction will be exceedingly tasty. Stomach churns, pen moves on. These feet feel hydroponically grown, mayhaps I should move out of the rivers of Quos. Drive onwards! Death to the unexpected, expect the expected! Can you really read my mind? I had better get my shit together! Honesty, is of course, the best policy. Unfortunately, residing in Quos does not leave one open to policies; which is why I journey. Quos is not user-friendly.


Everyday is Ragnarok, every year is 2012. Every time I awaken I die and every time I am born I sleep again. Jesus said, "Give unto God what is God's, give unto Caesar what is Caesar's!" I say, "Give unto the living, life; to the dying, death!" All that is to know is to be. Laughing is the pinnacle of human existence. Words have no meaning inherent to them! in * here *nt - In here, not! Who knew that Borat was the great philosopher himself? Socrates, you old fool!


No Title
A blank page is the most beautiful kind of page there is; a page full of words represents man's fall from a spiritual nature to mortal materialism. Blank pages hold infinite variety, chance, diversity, calmness, enlightenment... Only a page that has words can be criticized, one can not say anything about a blank page other than it is ripe to be written upon. This is the essence of innocence, I believe, the Eden-like state of consciousness. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. Who wrote it? The blank paper. This is not to say a page full of words does not hold value; it most certainly can, under the correct circumstances. Indeed, there is something hauntingly beautiful about a page written, idea made manifest, the Word realized. I AM THAT I WILL BE! infinite potential total beauty! pure. Perfection is that which can not be observed, yet exists.


Sppppppppppeeeeeeeed it up! TURN UP THE BASS!
Strangely enough - or perhaps it isn't strange at all there is lucidity in pure madness. Wasn't it Mr. Leary who suggested everyone trying out psychosis every now and then? Well, maybe, but the real question is, "Have I lost it?" Not sanity of course, it's safe to say I never had THAT, but rather, something much more meaningful: the spirit. What are my words but deformed Logos? Why do I have more questions than answers? I suppose that lies in the nature of the question itself. Gods, do I ever write ANYTHING original? What do I have to show for my "self"? How about I write on the subject of bass? No, not the fish, the rumbling, primordial instructions from the very depths of the aeons. Rips yr flesh, suades yr soul, pump up the bass...thump thump! Meaningless, but there it is. Will you dare obey? Dance to your own tune! We all do anyway, no one hears the same song, no one tastes the same drinks or feels the same toke. We're all alone in this mess, relatively speaking. Desire floods my body like some sort of power surge from the lower astral planes, my nose floats away like a plane. Still, I'm here, close to the edge but not yet pushed over. After so many (many? few? meaningless...) times of standing on the edge, you either develop supreme balance or fall to yr death. Death, although, is not really that big of a deal. I'm ready for it this time, and now it won't come, and neither will I! Am I some sort of spiritual masochist? Or just some idiot loony who stumbled upon some serious stuff? Armageddon approaches and you're getting stupider everyday - what do you do? Run like a rat in a cage, looking for an escape? Maybe, but there are always other alternatives. True path! Straight! Right.

How do you differentiate where One starts and where another begins? Where is some trustworthiness in this incredible mess deemed by some to be called idolatrously "life"? Where did it come from? Where did it go? How, why, can I be asking this? Evade this, human!: is this here? If so, what? Why? Who-what-when-HUH? Don't obsess over the small little details or you'll completely miss The Point. Will I? If you say so... Well, I'm expecting the Earthquake any day now. Maybe we'll all be dead by noon, maybe we'll just pick up where we left off. Why did we leave in the first place? Knowledge? What is THAT? Can "you" truly say you "know" anything? Then again, I might be trying to ride out this strange, perverted power to jumpstart my break. Read or write - not both. Sensory deprivation, sensory stimulation - do they both lead to the same place? If so well, well, I don't know. Drugs, alcohol, loud music, sharp objects, channeling Thompson...These things happen, often unexpectedly. One minute: off. The next minute! On! Let there be strobe lights! I think the only answer now is the only one you've had all along - be so fucking far out there that even you can't predict yourself. Do your own thing. What else is there? I can't live someone else's trip - don't want to. This one is weird and wired enough. At least this madness is asymmetrical, anhydrous, amphibious, and slightly alphabetical. Mmm...medical. Here's a happy note! Hope lives on.


Cold, Moonlit Night
Some nights, you just don't want it to end. The sun brings to light what was left to imagination: this is not quite was I was looking for. Although it was. No complaints here, either way. Other nights though, the moon just drives me mad. The cold, the hunger, the lonely feeling in the pit of my soul. No, not for people, for that which I want more than anything in the world. All of this is just a challenge or a ridiculous distraction into terribly destruction self-indulgence. These people aren't even real, they're all horrible, soulless phantoms of my imagination. People say you're crazy when you tell people that you hear voices, but what do you think your internal dialogue is? Hint! It's not internal!


Duty of a Nephilim
"Few are made for independence - it is a privilege of the strong. And he who attempts it, having the completest right to it without being compelled to, thereby proves that he is not only strong but also daring to the point of recklessness. He ventures into a labyrinth, he multiplies by a thousand the dangers which life as such already brings with it, not the smallest of which is that no one can behold how and where he goes astray, is cut off from others, and is torn to pieces limb from limb by some cave-minotaur of conscience. If such a one is destroyed, it takes place so far from the understanding of men that they neither feel it nor sympathize - and he can no longer go back! He can no longer go back, even to the pity of men!"
- Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil Weird omens and synchronicities appear at the strangest of times; relief comes when you were beginning to herald the challenge with fanfare, and ultimately things just happen for no rational reason. Thank goodness, logic can be so dry, boring, and unimaginative. There are times to stop, there are times to move. Nietzsche also said that if it were not for our bellies, men would be more inclined to believe themselves to be gods. This is a product, I believe, of man giving fuel not to his internal fire, but to the parasitic demons which possess and destroy him. Uncontained, violently orgasmic and a drain to his will, man stumbles around in a dumb dream, mechanically repeating the same events over and over until he wakes up or dies. Anarchism is steadily gaining acceptance as a viable political option, but more in the vein of stupid paranoia than a thirst to be free, whatever that may be. This is not the time to apply pressure outwards, today is the time of Anarchs,

fascists of the self. Oh, you "activists", don't you know you waste yourself away? The only way to stop the system is to stop systematic reasoning and thought, to embrace and marry and transcend that which anarchism has sought most to distance itself from: chaos. Stop pandering, start questioning everything, especially yourself. Act without believing, have the faith of no faith...That is what I say to you! But do not believe me, for I am an incurable liar, dishonest to the core and ruthlessly laid back. Words are magnets of action, action the energy of thought, will, intent, who knows? That is a point which deserves to be elucidated: nobody knows anything, anything at all. I can not stress this point enough, anyone who acts like they truly know anything is full of pungent, rubbery feces. Why do you think the oracle told Socrates that he was the wisest man? He knew he knew nothing! Those that know little learn much. And so I walk and I watch and I am silent, for I know anything that is spoken is pure heresy. I can wait though, for I know what I want. I will not write of that, though. That is for experiencing, not talking about. My words are much too furious; consciousness is so much more subtle than my brute words, no matter how elegant or eloquent they may appear.

"The scum of the Earth wail and tremble as they face death. We laugh, spitting with contempt, thus do we learn how to live."
-The Unsacred Texts of the Koton Every time I see death I laugh and I die. Every time I see life I weep and I am resurrected. When I suffer I am at ease and when I am comfortable I am succinctly suspicious of my being.

Killing Trees to Bring Dread
Let's see, what's going on in the world today? Barack Obama is fighting for the poor people of New Orleans - whom George Bush has been quite eloquently shown to hate. They say Obama is black and the pastors pray for him, but I know he's a big phony. It's no use - New Orleans is doomed and so are the rest of us. The "Economic Giant" called India is apparently pestering people to no end with customer satisfaction comment cards. Who are these fools kidding? The customer is never right. Why do you think this consumer nation is hit with a barrage of marketing bullshit like no other? We’re a bunch of degenerate proletariat, VIP-wannabes who have to be told what we want so we can boss the employees of the markets around like we're worth two shits. I suppose most people will see it as a nice, albeit annoying gesture to the multitude of tourists who come looking for...something. An Army Master Sgt overdosed on the mind-numbingly powerful opiod painkiller fentanyl, which is active in the microgram range. The FDA, of course, is making a big hoop-lah over it, but I don't see the problem. They're trying to kill us anyway, at least let us nod away into peaceful oblivion! Maybe if they made powerful psychoactive drugs mandatory, instead of keeping them illegal and in the hands of greedy drug lords and shadowy CIA operatives the newspaper wouldn't be so dreadful. Stop killing trees to produce your insanity.


Mighty, Mighty Morphine
Mighty, mighty morphine, left in an opiate cloud Standing tall and true, humble and yet proud Lay in the sun and you will be warm Lose yr mind at night, join the radical swarm Dark, wet alleys on cold fall nights Writing by street lights, nodding on abandoned chairs A thief and a shaman, a warrior and poet Take me away, my heart is on the road The path that goes on for miles; just you and the trail Coyotes and rabbits, squirrels, snakes, and spiders Keep me company, oh ye' midnight trees Cloaked in darkness, wrapped in a still shadow Death is with us always, we are stuck in a dream Rain falls and rainbows appear, a painting in the sky The sun sets and the clouds display glory My soul is filled with this rainy day, I feel it I feel it in my bones


Middle Man
Greet and heat, speak and spite Read the words and maybe write Those of the sick spread the blight "No imagination, therefore no fright!" I am just a feeling, a mobile unit Wheeling and screaming, a gold mine of doubt Find out that you always knew it Go to the trees: love them and shout! "I am here, I am arrived and I have been What was once here will be once again!" Walking the miles, breaking my shins There is no end, losses, or wins.


The Opiate Angel
She descends upon me and warms my soul The fire burns the fuel of the opiate coal Then she whispers into my ear - I understand my role An incarnation of the love of the Earth Fills me with love, joy - splendid mirth Existence! Life, death, karmic birth She loves me and we weep together Why should we be torn asunder so? Our love shall fly forever onwards We ride out upon the warm seas, An ocean of opiate, fuzzy love Close our eyes and nod off And in each other’s arms we die...


Five in the Morning; The Words Don't Stop
What is it about writing, reading, thinking, and learning that I love so much? It's like chasing after the greatest high there is, but with only occasional hints of it with an occasional rush of bliss. I love the smell of books, the feel of paper, the ink that rubs off on my fingers and turns them black. I love feeling a keyboard at my command, feeding words into a document until page upon page is filled up. I love holding a paper down while I scrawl my indecipherable printing onto it. I love the feeling of making a sudden connection, the moment of Eureka, the apple of Newton, the apple of discord. Oh, Eris, oh lovely Eris. Oh Mary Magdalene, oh Sophia, oh Holy Spirit! Every word I utter, every sentence I write, every thought that I could ever think, they are your doing. You have imbued me, I have imbued myself, I am part of you and yet I am more than you and less than you. Oh, Eris! How I love thee! All the paradoxes, the confusion, the chaos, all the reasons why we ask, "why?” they are all because of you! They are all hoaxes as you and I are hoaxes ourselves, as we are all nothing and everything! Duality, separation, they are all born solely from an individualized, contextual perception at a specific point in space and time. You are the reason, you are the rhyme You are the spice and you are the lime You hold me up while they hold me down You make me smile while others make me frown Praise the Spirit.

For the past few thousands years, history has shown us that the most powerful tool that humanity possesses is the ability to ask questions. By questioning the way the world works, one will ponder the state of things until one begins to grasp the universe through various facets, i.e.; physics, chemistry, geometry, psychology, astronomy, meteorology, etc. Just by sitting in a bath tub and wondering why the water level goes up when you sit down can bring about interesting discoveries. It is by discovering the chain of events (cause and effect) that leads to certain events can one learn to control and understand nature. Generally it is hard to say exactly how animals think, but it is somewhat reasonable to say that they don’t ask, “Why” very often. Asking “why” leads to a degree of self-awareness and introspection that is the source of all philosophy, religion, and science. This is a large part of what sets humans apart from animals. Our ability to control nature through understanding it has put humanity at the top of the food chain. However, it seems we lack the ability to control our own nature and often break out in sporadic warfare. It is safe to say, though, that the cure for this disease is a prescription of inquisitiveness. When too much is taken for granted and assumptions are common place, nothing is learned. If Newton had cursed the apple tree and just accepted that apples fall from trees, we would likely not be flying today. By questioning how something happens at point A and ends up in point B, we learn how to harness the forces behind it. Through understanding the force that brings apples to the ground, we have learned that this is the same force that keeps the Earth in orbit, and keeps us from floating in the air.

In modern times, too much is taken for granted and we suffer greatly for that. This is the era of buzz-words and weasel talk, the age where greedy politicians carefully pack emotional value into certain words to gain power, instead of determining policy through logical debate. For all its technology, the 21st is no age of bath-tub pondering or apple questioning. All over the world people are accepting the gruel slopped on their intellectual plates and they eat it up like its fine dining. Truly, what is freedom and democracy and why are they so great? How many people stop and ask these questions? Why is it considered heresy to question such important topics, especially when we die for these words? Is the death of thousands upon thousands not worth questioning? As the late Bill Hicks once said, “Go back to bed, America, your government has figured out how it all transpired. Go back to bed America, your government is in control. Here, here's American Gladiators. Watch this, shut up, go back to bed America…” This is not to say, however, that the only thing questioning is good for is the outside world. To say that would be to utter a bold face lie, that which people take most for granted is that which is questioned least. It is rare that the average person will just sit there and question the voice in their head, the “I”, the ego, the soul, or whichever applicable name you choose to call your self-hood. How often do people question even existence itself? Philosophers and spiritual masters question everything and in the process understand much about themselves, not to speak of the entire universe. Pondering existence led Descartes to come to the conclusion Cogito, ergo sum; I think, therefore I am. Trying to overcome the nature of human suffering, Gautama Buddha had the revelation that it is desire that is the root of suffering, and was able to overcome it. By learning to question, we as a species and as individuals will return to a healthy state and become more like the Newtons, the Archimedes, the Descarates, and the Buddhas of this world.

Many Facets of the Mind
The light of epiphany has shown that The cockroach of corruption has assimilated The Justice System, pigs performing for The press, whose only goal is to exploit and Capitalize off of everyone else, the American Dream is more a drug induced stupor Than a hope to achieve happiness Happiness is not a dollar, Happiness is Being content with that dollar.

-1: Flawed existence No existence, only grief Pain and anguish seeming fun No real matter, stress Stress more than nothing Rise to the above? If you Will? Death from above? Most likely. Negative one.

1: One more than Nothing One less than more ultimatum: survive and abandon Stray from less to stay up high, where significance dares No less than more, But more wanted by less?

One, One, One, One

-0: Upside down in nothing twisted and frayed forlorn with no hope laid No anything, no nothing Just nothing, except zero Zero from anything is still not none But could there be less than zero? Negative zero, negative zero 0: All we are is nothing Nothing from all we were Born to die but live to see The Great White Doors that don't see me Partial nothing is still half something Or is a half a whole still a zero? Zero. Zero. Zero. Zero.


Contact the author: E-mail – AIM – AAAlwaysWithClas MSN –

Note: please don’t think that because I write about spiritual matters (or energies, as the case may be), that I’m anything like a teacher or a guru or enlightened or whatever you might come up with. Don’t assume anything, take nothing for granted, and find your own truth. Also, don’t think because I talk about drug use that I either condone it or encourage it. But don’t think because I said that I discourage it or condemn it…Take it for what it is.


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