Professional Documents
Culture Documents
A Journey Into and Out of the Mind Revelation and Confusion Life Death - Karma Existence Nihil
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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.
Acknowledgements
Id like to thank my friends Sir Lugarth and Wilshire for their inspiration (chemical or otherwise), insightful conversations, and all the other help theyve 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 Ive met in my strange journeys who have either lend me a helping hand, a glass of water, or just a lovely talk. Id 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 muchand getting me into trouble. Much love to Codyp. But most of all, thank you to all my enemies. Youve made me who I am, and the more youve hurt me the more I love you. I do so relish a challenge. To everyone Ive 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. Thats 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.
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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.
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Dolphins and whales have the right idea theyve immersed themselves in water even though theyre 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.
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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
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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
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Degeneration
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, thats right, lift your head up, your half-alive cockroach. What do you see? Not much, thats the smogs fault I suppose. It doesnt 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.
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Love is Beautiful
I want to burn and Be taken in flame.
Ceasing to exist.
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?
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
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.
In both worlds,
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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.
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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.
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All-Fuck-It-Suit
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!)
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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.
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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'!
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Problems
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.
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Patience
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.
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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...
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The philosophers stone: 420
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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.
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Reflections
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.
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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.
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Interpretations
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.
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2012
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!
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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Why?
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 dont 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.
-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?
-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.
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Contact the author: E-mail rizzoxrepulsive@gmail.com AIM AAAlwaysWithClas MSN rizzoxrepulsive@hotmail.com
Note: please dont think that because I write about spiritual matters (or energies, as the case may be), that Im anything like a teacher or a guru or enlightened or whatever you might come up with. Dont assume anything, take nothing for granted, and find your own truth. Also, dont think because I talk about drug use that I either condone it or encourage it. But dont think because I said that I discourage it or condemn itTake it for what it is.
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