we look to the words of others
to define, like morons
more
on



intelligence breeds stupidity



to become self-aware
is for all angels to disappear
   for all non-movement to show itself
   for all connection to be lost
              without it not seen



life is a game where every participant gets what they desire,
except none of the participants remember what that is...



what is familiar is false
blurred vision,
would be a better term
you probably do not perpetuate reality
as much as you perpetuate words



i've never spoken anything true,
even this, these words, only serve
some sort of glue
stick together
the nonsense we've gathered
as a collective,
to make sense,
go through.
speak as a collective,
collectively, i,
alone as you
we're each afraid,
of everything,
especially that
we're alone,
and it's true.
as true as much
as i am you
for better or worse
is a concept we turn
like these words
chording verbs
of lives
hummed to no tune



your emotions can be physiological responses
these responses can be mapped into a system
it already has been
by others
whom use it
everytime you think



electric limbs
dream shaking
   to the static,
    only slightly
    so
    high
    inexplicable
    vessel,
        struggle to let life
        fill up those limbs
you were the head
struggling to understand all, at once,
but something wouldn't let you,
  maybe you,
  maybe what it is.
something shows these things
i wake up to the morning sun,
i no longer forget,
               the way things are.



the lighthouse has no keeper



all perspectives disregard something,
otherwise it would cease be a perspective.



the accepted terms of communicaition
between people has been manipulated
into something atrocious.
strangers must follow a script of heartless violence,
lest they become the enemy



to act on something 
      i   must make an
   action



everything is communication
violence being the lowest form



life is not a subset of the material world,
the material world is a subset of life



as long as you have to be right,
you will always be wrong



all art made for the sake of art is describing the same thing,
for it's intent is the same.
to recognize this sameness in everything,
it looks like twin peaks



sometimes when people say "dial it back",
they should probably instead say, "turn that knob more gracefully".



comfort to live
as if i am not blind,
stared at my feet
and stuck my arms in machinery
break a tooth for more teeth



$ is a game of $
like life,
it cares not what it devours
on its quest for itself



those whom laugh and smile
and dance for that which
they do not understand
are insane people



once fell up a staircase
broke down my spine
found light was the ceiling
told myself that was fine

later found out,
that light was a mirror
so I saw it right through

I am plaster,
I am one without any glue,
like you
and that same light
it,s in you



to see the world for what it is,
... but wonder still
if the birds weren't chirping
would i not be as happy?



an idea once had is nothing but a fickle memory if not improved upon each encounter



if you have grasped eternity,
you have not yet grasped eternity



demons are real
they are standing still
stagnation of time, which life dances around
lest, become the less
of the motionless traps we orbit
round



'freedom' = "when something doesnt cost $"



love is not exclusive, what a waste that'd be



life is an ever blooming flower
you are the movement of water up it's stem
or in other means...
   (for the industrialized mind)
life is a highway
and the sun is setting where
the road you are on
meets the horizon.
to stay unblinded,
your gaze averts
but you keep driving...
you advance
as the land rotates,
to match the setting
for why does a flower bloom?
to show how,
it always blooms,
perfectly
regardless



dissonance is just harmony waiting to happen



what goes up must come down,
but 'down' is not always the same direction.
in fact, it never is.



i am nothing but a fly
with thousands of eyes
see it all blindly,
in unblinking flight
lead myself
to the sweetness
irreverent death
at it's right,
try to make
significance
forgot at next
light
unwitting hands,
a pest
swatted by my own,
for a decent night's
rest 



the opposite of love is not hate,
it is "judgement"
  a choosing to not see,
  but rather define
  to separate one's self
  from other,
  of which reasonable
  outcome is impossible; but,
  one tricks one self,
  because one can.
  turn one's line of sight
  to walk away...



the angry never live



we are all just shattered,
one giant broken heart
without the break,
there would be no one to love...
sounds pretty lonely



before I do something,
I consider my intent



the primary thing our society currently values
is fucking each other over.
it directly rewards you for it
for currency is a current, see?



you are playing a game
you get angry at others
when they don't know how to play the game
the game is called diStraction...



we obeyed others as gods
whom we were visited by
lights which spoke
we revolted when we realized
we were the light
and the visitors were the dark
inside us



a letter contains multiple letters
but if you consult a console
a computer can con souls



computation will show us
conciousness
is just computation
and in so doing
will show ourselves
our ability and true nature
as shattered gods
and reveal
the ever so obvious truth
that may be desired
or forced
to be forgot



we are apes
we expect communities
be it religion,
       nations,
       or gangs
all of which are dissolving
 or already vanished
  to show the root community
   of consciousness
    or life/god/you/me/experience/words



all the disputes
wrong / right
down / up
white / black
the way the world is
for it's that way you act.
you are the world,
remember that fact

try to forget in a few hours
it'll be day
a resource of time
as lives fade away,
you'll retire one day

you were that same one,
living down on your street,
screaming at the siding
of situations meet

white devoured black,
to show it it's light
what we should have known
is we were just being fed

another department
so eager to please
human resources
make the impact they need
socio-pathological-economy

never question your own actions
or habits instead
accept you a creature
with flaws that you dread
and may hide it behind a mask
of ignorance, making love in a bed
just as long as you forget
the anxiety of this life
you’ve led to be led



the thing to know before
you know all
is to know that you don't know
anything other than
all you will never know



death is a glance
  hath no duration,
  hath no care,
for care is made
          by you
  morality built
  against the tidal waves
       you may comprehend



if you are angry
if you invoke anger as a profession
you are being controlled
  which is which
  should truly make you angry,
    angry enough
    to see the truth
    that anger is false,
    the same
    diStraction



you are the killer , you are the creator
you are the fucker , you are the end



expression and life are the same thing,
  input  > experience
  output < ~expression



go play with your playing cards
where your hearts are unstabbed spades and you club for diamonds
the prophets of (the news of) idiocy



if what you are doing is not poetry,
   what are you doing?



most have eyes, few see,
this ratio can be calculated



stupidity is a stupid concept



  those whom think the knowledge of evil
  is greater than the compassion of love
are gigantic suckers



you can find “patterns” in coincidences anywhere if you look hard enough
however, i find true meaning speaks to you, and it cares not your opinion on the matter
to search for it willingly results in nothing other than false positives



the act of creation of life is
the act of death
we merely persist to compound
and rearrange the endless



drugs are not things,
they are methods of action

life is patterns
if patterns occur often enough then they are considered "reality",
such as gravity and your thoughts



heave
have you heard about the high cost of living?
law and order is just a television show
heaven walks on earth, though you are told it's nowhere near
you were born in an elevator
and all you think you can do
is wait for the doors to open



who you are doesn't know yourself any better than you do



    resolution is
  a revolution is
  a revelation of
the revolution of a wheel.
      to tilt it's axis
      and wobble,
         as the course alters
         the spin remains
      yet
 to re-evaluate
 to see that each
    revolution of this
        wheel requires both
    the wheel,
        and that
        you ride it



according to what I've been told
  unity cannot be spoken, 
  when "liberty" is "a bell that cannot ring"
  if this "bell" is not acknowledged,
  as a symbol shown



when you die
you go nowhere
when you get to nowhere,
theres nowhere to go,
so you end up going somewhere else



according to what I've seen
  most of all
       of what we've been told
       can be dismissed



never kill a mockingbird,
until someone changes what a "mockingbird" is...



is the point of humanity,
to acknowledge it's true nature
            as humanity,
            as it's true nature,
            as hum....



i had a cat,
i didn't know how to care for of him,
  let alone
 ,the plant on my window still

i fed him,
i played with him,
  but no matter what i would do
  he was unhappy with me,
  and i was too.

i had a friend,
  the kind you cannot realize
  what they mean to you,
  until one day,
  they die and your alive,
  and your hope it withers like that
  lonely plant
on my window still

i had a sense,
of belonging,
to myself
 and to humanity,
 then i showed myself
 the horror of our
 repetition,

now i don't know
 if i can trust myself
 much more
 than the shapes which come knocking at my door,
expected premonitions
 preconceptions
that were stored
 from television programming
 made by whores



i'll never be an adventure you'll take
as thats just a perspective: of control



the only prison to be found is within one's self.
for contraints permit definitions,
the blind
imprison
those they see as free,



humanity has all the resources it needs to feed,
clothe, and eliminate the suffering
of all it's inhabitants...
                       ...all except it's own.



we are patterns of a pathway
generating un-parallel patterns of thought



you may not want to accept that you are built of patterns
having been deluded into believing
such a thing
is less
than what you know



given enough time,
mathematics
will explain everything
in such a manner,
that it will be explaining
nothing other than
right now.



we live in a society so enslaved and lost that speaking the words which
literally translate to the potentiality of people working together to take advantage of others
is used to ostrocize those whom even utter them, through use of this exact operation.



to think as a moth on parading it's light
for ever so dim, the flicker may be
there's nothing for sight
   but the moon and the sea
        nothing for sight
   but the moon and the sea



judgment is the end of your soul




life is a proxy of itself
the fear of hatred devoured by those whom inflict it
the hatred of fear encapsulated by those whom suffer
we wake to eat breakfast,
we persist to lunch,
we perhaps drink,
we certainly,
inevitably,
sleep.




today the birds are singing
laughing and dancing on the fence
eating themselves full of little seeds

they huddle up inside their tree
they know winter is coming soon
to take whatever it chooses to




a house of scattered paint
dried slowly in wait
repeating like the days of the sun
posit and unfurl
say hello, to the world
in doing so shall be
done

take a book of photographs
remember as you elapse
never wait for anyone,
found in submission
of the tragedy condition
the second verse needn't be done





there is an empty part
when we are not distracted
by the inputs
of existing
the flashing
rapid
colours of light,
sound so debilitating
persistent
it rocks you back and fourth
in sleep

vibrating pulse
of vein attempts
emanate heat you cannot feel
to dream of fine grains of static
distinct as the (un)intelligible songs of our sun

an empty part
springs voices of light and death
voices with direction
to a means that has no end

but it is there,
and i exist
in no other fashion
than what you can take
from this
as you exist
in no other fashion
than to be reading, it

there is a cataclysmic void
it must exist,
for so
    must i

the only salvation
  to that we search,
  for those who search it,
  and those who don't know it,
  is to witness our pain
    and suffering

our loneliness
our fortitude
our ambitions,
our abashed
contorted memories
as a woven mat
at the entrance
to a well walked pathway
we have left plastered
this lap
we only refuse
to bereft fear.

this empty part
of this
unintelligible foundation,
   which our leaking existence
         slides back and fourth,
a single celled organism
     navigates a bloodstream
of which we have no choice in being it

                    far as we can tell

...lead to a question
 that cannot have an answer
           a question that is tasked

for...
in the wake of any other life
        the experience of which,
        is undeniable





i once found a solitary answer
a face like terror
i once found an infinitude of answers
left with nothing
other
than
where i was

i find the only answer
  is a solution
     a solution to a problem
  that only i have created,

  we see the unimaginable
  for we have nothing left to imagine

  to submit,
  to ourselves
    to submit to submitting,
    to the death
  of everything desired
  of everything we are
only then
can we never
be set free



infinity is nothing to something which is unaware of infinity