Tag Archives: rambling

Day Zero with Love

What’s being seen now isn’t a Bad thing… Well, yes its terrible. So. So. Terrible… but that’s beyond the scope of changing right now. What I will observe however, isn’t a country losing its mind, its a world that’s bucking at the notion that the United States president’s role is actually that of “Leader of the free world.”
For so long as an American, or rather someone who’s spent the just around 97% of my life time somewhere within, I’ve taken advantage of the notion that being here it just was what it was, and but everywhere but here, got “this” because some world wars happened and everyone fell in line to the notion that world was no longer the particular nations/state cultures occupied, but collective psyches linked by but a tendril of globalization.
Problem is for the most part those living in the US had a choice about how to feel about the world, but the world didn’t. Our Leader, the most powerful single point on a global map of sovereignty, regardless of military might. The economy they are tasked with, consumes at a rate fueling the rest of the worlds absorption of it, and attempts to replicate it.
But they didn’t have a choice, they were just shown what they had to reach for and they started reaching for it. While the US slowed in progress, everyone else started surpassing it, including those who defined so much of what they US stood for. So they reached and reached, but with the encumbrance of the fact that they weren’t the few who had a voice heard beyond the hearts of of legitimacy.
So what we’re seeing now isn’t a Bad thing. What we’re seeing is social survivalism, every group with enough of a soap box and grievance towards diversification of a singular Human identity into, something more primitive, but also a step back from the notion that the US has sovereignty over pretty much anything that happens on this big old rock.
Yes, whats going to happen here will not be easy, especially for myself and everyone I love, no matter their place in the world. But it might, just might, give the right (conscious) people the kick in the ass they need to drop the constraints of this rigidly classist world as their limiting factor and see that its officially open season to take the reigns of their own destiny, since Lo’ there no longer exists the leader of a the free world but the leader of the free world that would rather trade it for a time when we really did believe in the health effects of cigarettes
The fear for what will come next was inevitable, but I’ve had this fear since the rallying cry of the modern western (white) world became, “blame the other!”
But I mean shit I’d be lying if there wasn’t just an extra shmear of panic at the prospect of what really comes next. Do we go further and further into it? Into the machinations of how we’re different and who’s better? or do we take all the false hope and idealism we were all told as chidlren an adults, and finally fucking put it to good use?
Do we finally take that step forward into what matters, because we can’t do enough in a day after the hours and hours we destroy our selves at jobs we took to keep us stable in this machine? Do we finally look at the machine and say: “you can pay me, but I’m going to work with other parts of other machines and collectively make sure they machines aren’t as oiled as they once were?”
Wherein we as a collective can say we want better for everyone even the ones who would do us harm? Where we can forgive them, but never forget what made them in the first place? Where we can finally look ourselves in the mirror and say: “Hey, the worlds not okay, but I am, so who can i help today?”
Do we want to live in a world where we just complain about the madness but allow the distractions and comforts of modernity, to strip even the most bare of comforts for the future?
I’m gonna say how about we not. How about we accept that the Us v Them thought processes that have been so prevalent, and work in the service of loving the ones who matter. Leaving hate, where it belongs with the fear and panic of the ego.
How about we look at the what we do with our days, and fill them with and answering the the questions of:”What world do we want 10 years from now?”
Still worried about death and the scarcity of resources that plague our pale blue dot? Do something that isn’t “leaving” it to the politicians or someone else, if you see something, do something. Help out your neighbors no matter how much they threaten to call the cops cause their driveway is also their driveway and they always want access, it’ll just make it worse unless we break the cycle of reacting.

Respond to what’s before you with a clear head about what you want, hopefully its love for everything and everyone even if in the end they’ll isolate you. Don’t let the fear win or lose, let it be and observe what really matters, its triumph or our triumph over it.
Yea, the United States president is well… Him. But the schisms of the world just deepened, and maybe, it’ll teach us to remember that all we have are each other, and if we let the monologues of the media dictate our movements, the dialogues that need to happen will always been superficial.

No go, do something for the sake of love, vent your frustrations by putting it into something that matters. Your social media posts will be seen and liked and reposted, but all they’ll do is echo in the vast chamber of the internet. So make your posts, as I am now and remember this is the beginning of the future, how it turns out is up to us, not the people with the red and blue ties, and flag pins.

I love you all, go in peace.

Deolation Sermon vol. 4: Nexus Variants

Break

Sit in simplicity behind the freedom of choice as this is not where you could be, but are anyway to bide time inside the idea of the self determination you had hoped to see. Layering slowly a CV longer than psychological dependency on being more than a database key floating on magnetic tapes hundreds mile away in bunkers designed to survive longer than this race. Wouldn’t you want a little more?

If blasphemously asking the questions: “what else?” is your motto, maybe you’re willing to be happy with what is after all. To understand the fundamental alterations of the code we assumed was cracked, but experimentation was never granted ethical continuity. Bless your heart child, you’ve seen hell, and its not for you, come see where the confusion might lead you.
Smell mornings of regret, as sleep is lacked are supplemented without forcing tension as caffeine drips are simpler, with the roasted mud comfort of diuretic reminders of chemical dependencies. Don’t feel bad, coffee is the best, external dependencies are easily held onto hands of comforting high voltage charge or neurotransmitters explosions attempting to hold true through panicking from wasting civilized energies.
To commutes riding a pretentiousness of having what others seem to lack, from belief that self determination was the qualifying factor to lifetimes lived for the lives of others. Sitting behind desks, and gossiping for simplicity of happiness through grape vines office IM clients, with giant emoji lists, giving those permissions to user to end the lack of emotional banality in email exchange.
Ask silently if revisionist history is the worst thing as any dream of a better world, cause it is now the noose around another’s neck as the ones being lived is better than the next person’s so why mess with a formulation of tried and true financial attributes. Probably because alarms have been going off so long, that the background dullness of its urgency bleeds into those still willing to accept the pain all together without knowing what to expect. Yet who is anyone to judge the criterion by which everyone was given a leg up or a knuckle dusted punch to the gut, asking the truly pointless question of assigning worth to what might actually be something.
You’re humans goddammit, a thousand million pardons for taking the All Mighty’s name in vain, yet, where are you lost to normalcies indelibly silent rage. Where times commodity is valued in quantum conservatism holding onto silence for the worthless tendencies of the bureaucracies lived and feared, tell us how you fear the unknown.
How do you fear anything that isn’t made of dust and bone, as entropy opens and closes the infinite doors of a trillion star bits hemming existing through the patchwork sense of belonging grounded in impressing ones self. Hypocrisy is a powerful entity that leans into hopes of being free with the caveat of presumed esteem. Fall off your equestrian dreams, move the fuck away from them, look at them, will they survive the apocalypse? Pass your happiness test of having enough, feeling fulfilled by understanding that one is a symbol, like two, that multiplied zeros and quantifiable memories are only good enough to feed baseless shrewd multinational think tanks designed wholly by one or two hoping you’ll fixate the wavelengths of cones and rods upon their constructed stars of undeliverable expectation.
Feel the desolation, the constant obliteration of the fury of life inside the venter or cardiac space, assimilating black thoughts fed from tried methods of words built go poke holes in truths one should always know. Flail in the pity of not knowing that you’re okay, things might be bad but their freedom to be so is a wonderful thing, tis the :
Way of the world
The bliss of being
The furthest from untruths
Sense filled consummation
Entropy of random reality
Everything in its right place
Forgiveness in a glace to the Inconsistencies of blindness
Falling into time crossed tempos lost to past ages
Reverberations bouncing slowly to key into melodies of the soul

They know go well to believe anything will ever change, since change is an impossibility to fit the butt hurt captains of enterprise data siege. Same way entertainment knows better than itself to ensure trust amongst the groups of millions or billions take the plunge into one minds manipulated derricks drilling to the deep crust, extracting primal fluids to garner loyal vestiges hoping to fill us all up. Isometric viewing angles observing the rat race to the cyclical tunnels dug into by tell tale heart strings tugged in sensory freedom, afraid to admit any wrong.
This will do maybe one good thing, remind a fool where they might be, right now in front of a keyboard as Gods breathe fills me, expanding side by side with the version who’d want to be somebody happy in helping others achieve a simple dream of goals lived within this existence. But where to begin?
A Decision, to admit that forgiveness is where it will begin, as the Nexus of of old absorbs everything there once was in the high tide of given opportunity.
Take not the words of a madman, lost in the throws of misrepresented love in historical hope for a better tomorrow, grounded in understanding of the majesty of playing fair. Believe not words as they flow quickly upon paper and data bits, they mean not to guide but shepherd your thoughts away from believing everything is law. Swim in the bliss of uncharted waters, unafraid of the lessons not learned from mistakes currents swaying on all sides.
Start somewhere, somewhere terrible, is still somewhere, placing steps on stepping stones of metaphors covered in moss of interpretation, you will slip and fall, but it will not end, put on you’re shoes just keep walking, as mud covered and slimy it might all seem.
Heed no warnings told through the filter of tomorrow, yesterday is so far away, and today is nearly gone, Hoyle road looking for enlightenment.

Go. In Peace.

Desolation Sermon Vol. 3 Void Walkers Paradox

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Etched in tabulation conceived by infinite graces with a finite traces of reality scouring behind, center quakes with seismic inevitabilities. Venter finds life mildly separated from an illogical whole that codifies fiery fortitude, to return from the waters from whence they once came into light . The noise is truer than false promises of our own self determined youthful glow, verily tracking the infinity beyond those moments neither of us could see.

Holding together these limitless thoughts we might see how the quest for peace has lost its way. How war is peace and peace is pacafistic idealism, meant to engage disappointment at a very young age. Blame the video games and the television streams, but the inevitable end is here to stay.

Why then to contain these lashing tendrils of fury and rage, we must ground ourselves in pointless attempts at being just angry enough for those we want to lure to take notice but quiet enough not to make any noise. Are we not men, not machines programmed by simplistic ideals told to us by those we believe will stand representative of the best of our fucked up reality?

Do we not stand for individuals, regardless of the constant mistakes? Propelled through existencs on a singular idea, just to do some good, yet told consistently, “the trouble isn’t with the reward ” the trouble IS the reward, to have lived to see what life has in store to never know what could come next. to live in the paradox of the Almighty’s graces consistently prevading forward through the sin that is existences inevitable query. We are life, we are the spaces in between the letters of history more important than curvatures and ampersand’s, the form that holds all together, the mystery of everyday conversation.

Willingly taken by fates consistent seminars and keynote speeches, the conference is meant to teach, make believe that what we learn might haunt us more than beseech us to a call to everything. To explode into a million different accounts of what it might feel like, this new found reality, of uncharted fear and anxiety, coupled with unspeakable happiness and mystery. Do we chose to live in this place, where rust and bone only prevade when why we felt in the first place is forgotten?

Yet, the fear will always return the dark, the void. Even as flowers bloom from evening to morning as the landscapes kick the air from our lungs, the memories of the monsters obliterating all, concussing the sanitariums of deference into planetary dislocations of orbital desires. Faceless traits give away whimsical mindsets, leaving behind nuggets of prayed for good graces, as we live in sin, asking for unearned forgiveness. Ravaging ourselves with guilt lost not on time, wriggling its way under our fingers, as we do under cover of privacy. Holding in desires, making sure the armor is still holding out against the life we had chosen to architect.

Yet the paradox holds true, where life and sin are the same with intentions wrapped in ignorance, to justify doing harm. Self determined social hierarchical traits, never assigned rationally, since objectivity is taught with a set of rules in mind.Walking out humble paths, in and out of youthful mindsets, juxtaposed with furious destructive wrath. Going nuclear on past hurts, that can’t be amended, a vendetta against those that would make today less loving for those whom we’d collapse empires for.

Walking in and out of the void, contradictions abound, homeostatic paradoxes ever changing. Adjusting to realities infinitive’s, we talk a moment to know that we are under grace, under the watchful eye of these sermons we have to tell ourselves.

This paradise walked alone, echoing thoughts of of heavenly intentions formed not yet recognized by sanity, thinking about thinking about an idea, not thought since a billion moments ago. Where past malicious intents we’re told they could stay, cause maybe they’d give us a reason to have a reason.

Yet the other side of the coin flips into existence, never bound by restrictive common place of the localities we chose to grace. Individual thought forms might dislocate immediate goals to deference not previously assessed, the infinite begins to manifest. And maybe we’ll flip into thoughts never held truer, but engage fears never thought needed to be dealt. We are bigger than universes collapsing a billion million stars, and that’s in our eyes.

What might seem like the mystery we never wanted to solve, becomes the mystery we hold and never Want to let go. As we walk the plank over the void, falling into nothing we can rationally contain let float the wonders of the paradox. Living inside the difference inside the unknown, like pioneers seeking no more than the place we never knew could be known.

Left, Faisal

Words of Nothing

Eyes won’t open
too much light
not enough dark
consumed emptiness
hallow be thy rest

Flow into the night
let not life know
keep it guessing
seeing whats allowed
never control aloud

Can’t find you
you went missing
the moment beyond sight
let the time fall
the leaves changed

Find the shoe
will the boot fit
look together
we can find it
but I’ll leave

Loss is null
not worth a penny
take the dull
work out the edge
then cut string

Empty days
full of filling
live for pie crust
the apples are sour
sugar free living

Thoughts unfocused
glass doors fogging
close the shades
I want your light
you’re blinding

See these sounds
watch them bounce
under the clouds
we cant hold it up
the blues just might

Toy with the idea
play with its points
revel in its logic
ignore the fine print
let the soul talk

Plucking slowly
find soaked blood fast
frets watery red
fingers lingering
playing the dead song

Mind not right
thoughts bounce high
no drugs to sort
the miasma creeps
this meeting blows

Words solidly unfounded
reality complete
can’t believe whats happened
tea to forever steep
bitterness will not keep

Fuck it.

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Built to burn

The train moved too quickly today. It was as if it knew that there were things to say but it didn’t want to let them come out. To make sure they wouldn’t accidentally drop a word or two about what shouldn’t be. Of the world that once knew that it could recover itself, when it knew the wonders of its own stupidity and sought to fix them by assigning the task to experts who know more than the men before them, but less than the men that came before them. So who to believe?

If history is anything to show, the only thing worth seeing would be the glow of the embers of flames that take down idea’s and crumble the foundations of existence, as only the reality of this game. It is that it’s only fun when the rules are known unknowns with a twist to make sure that no one who ever wants to play knows that the known unknown unknowns should be the only currency for dealing with it. Waxing poetic as Huey Freeman, as though accepting that that pessimistic Bisy Backsons, aren’t the worst thing, but rather the The overindulgent owls of the court who preside over the judge, makings sure the verdict is to keep breaking down and owning more and more to feed the flock they quickly feed on when they see the first sight of blood or the potential for blood.

Humanist’s would hold the belief that humanity is meant to be one, not limited by borders and ideas, but by the experiences that the lives of all would propagate and help plant the seed for the tree, from which the fruit is picked. Consumed, then shown to be nothing more then egotistical self posturing because humanity is too fucked up to do much about unless you care too much about the tree that create the roots for which their ideas stand. Hold strong and don’t fret, there was never much left to lose, but the idea’s fundamental naivety to the fact that everyone is corrupt, and not a soul attempting to find the difference means to do it because its true.

But when built to spot the differences between a leader and puppet, learning that manipulation can be summoned from but an idea that would hold as improbably true, but none the less with value to the puppeteer, the truth becomes clear, backbones are for those that will die. Humans will believe anything as long as nothing else is given for them to understand, life retains simplicity as question are then never really asked or brought up, since they’ve nothing do with their self worth of the idea. So cognition and perception stew in the proverbial cauldron of distortion and chaos,  while belief systems are made for those that can’t seems to grasp the notion of the flux of time and the eternal state of content-ness and control.

Built at the precise times that it needed to be built, transmuted into the harbingers of the whatever tomorrow would bring, the scars the pasts that are held so dear, even if  their lossless audio drivers maintain that there is a 95 percent degradation in how it gets interpreted, given the appropriate filter anything can sound as if the fate of the worlds words depended on its. Built specifically to the thing that is required to watch the combustion of the worlds as they collapse into themselves and then proceeding to fall out into the dusting of reality that pelts the worlds around them. The monarch flaps its colorful appendages as the youth of tomorrow are ushered into the gale forces of mistrust and acedia, contented to find out eventually that all they really ever were, were the embers of what came before.

The Earthquakes of Trampolines.

The Bissy Backson’s are getting to me. They seem to know that the way is not their way and so they don’t want to let anyone, who also knows the way, go about said way. It really is a silly means of doing things, since no one can go anywhere, no one can find anything. 

Like looking at the world through a backwards telescope, wondering how one day you can get to what you see on the other side. Though its right there, its like the elephant that grew up in captivity, the chain definitely won’t hold it, but it doesn’t know any better. Locked behind this door that we keep trying pull open with all our might, ignoring the “push” hidden behind the mental blind spot. Its the relativity of it all as Einstein said, we can’t judge a fish by its ability to climb trees, nor can we expect a wolf to serve High tea. 

We’re strapped into these parachutes, expected to jump and know where to pull. Where we land, we can’t tell, the earths curves are too expansive to see. We’re like snowflakes falling on a winters day, controlled by outside forces, each individual moving free in the storm of their own existence, reduced to water and floating away ones the dust has settled and chosen it’s own way. 

Mixed metaphors and bags full of books I won’t get a chance to read, cause time doesn’t know that Kings Cross isn’t as cool as Harry Potter made it seem. Never trying to hide the fact that we can’t dance in the moonlight, because its just the sun we can’t see, instead we dance in the candle light with the fixed gear bikes overhead. 

I saw light once all hazy and heavy, I didn’t believe it existed, it was just sitting there as if the photon’s had decided they didn’t have to move, they were on holiday and they just wanted their Mojito’s and a way to express all their heat. I chilled with them a while, they were cooler than I thought they’d be, they had great ideas, about oscillations and dreams, dreams about being small but always being bigger than anyone who said they weren’t. I like them, too bad the laws of the physical worlds woke up and told them to get back to working. 

Sometimes the sky’s cry, because they can see the world and how dreadful it can be, with their heavy hearts and ions buzzing they can’t help but lighting the sky, and scream with their thunderous roar, it doesn’t know that its doing it, its just is, and crying and throwing its tantrum, it too can’t see beyond the horizon, beyond the backwards telescopes gaze. 

The relativity of our lives are contingent on our ability to see without seeing what we want, to feel without needing to feel, to hear because we care to listening. When we forget, we start to question why its all there. We lose ourselves in the idea that we might be different than everything around us, further then the sun or the moon, and as meaningless as the speck of dust on my nose. But in really, we’re just panicking from the tremors of waking up, on the trampoline that shakes incessantly, we can only see the shaking, feel the shaking and hear the tremors uproar. If’ only we remembered, that we could get off, stare not at the latex stretched across but at the grass it sat upon, the earth below our feet the silence of the wind around us with the stability of the ground between the infinite spaces between our knees. 

So smile, Backsons, I know your game, there’s no reason to block the way, unless you wanna jump on this trampoline, just remember where you’re going to land, the earthquake might just be you.