Trashing Utopia 2015

TRASHING UTOPIA ~ A CRITICAL EXAMINATION OF CURRENT EVENTS
PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR ~ CHRISTOPHER G. BURLEY
INDEX
SUBJECT AND OBJECT-(SHORT STORY) 1995
THE BOOK OF LIFE
BASIC MULTIPLICITY-(BLIP)
THE BLOCK-1985-(ESSAY)
BIZARRO BORDER
ZERO
THE RUTABAGA MISSION-(POEM)
THE MELON-(BLIP)
THE ACORN-(BLIP)
WHAT YOU ARE-(ESSAY)
TURNING SEPTIC-(ESSAY)
CHALLENGE-(ESSAY)
WANT-(POEM)
FEAR-(ESSAY)
NOT COMPLAINING-(ESSAY)
MEDIUM VIBE LIQUIDITY-(BLURB)
THE ONE EYE WITNESS-(ESSAY)
BEING THERE-(RAMBLE)
SPIRALS-(ESSAY)
ONE HYPOTHETICAL NIGHT-(STORY)
CHRISTOS INFERNO-(BLURB)
CARRYING THE VOTE-(BLIP)
QUANTUM SNOWFLAKE-(BLURB)
THE RESPONSIBLE OBSERVER-(ESSAY)
THE DEVIL AND MULTICULTURALISM-(ESSAY)
VANQUISHED VALIDITY-(ESSAY)
THE DEAD WORLD-(ESSAY)
MILK-RUN AND THE EXPRESS (OCCUPY)
POTENTIALITY ROBOTICUS-(STORY)
THE STAR WRITING APOCALYPSE
SONNY
WISDOM AND WILL
EPILOGUE
OFFERED OPINION-(BLURB)
AND FINALLY-(BLIP)
READING LIST
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
DEFINITIONS
THE THUNDERBIRD

PREFACE
It is being suggested that any phenomenon, including a thought or feeling passing
through your head, involves a distinct constellation of dynamic influences. Hope and
certainty are two completely different items. In a hazardous universe, failure to tell
the difference can cost you absolutely everything. It is being noted that boredom is a
form of pain, and thus, a possible down side to be knowing everything. The
incomprehensible unlimited by definition has no parts, be it in time or space.
Assigning gender connotation to parts is a necessary contradiction for any serious
thinking. Whether you believe it or not, whether you like it or not, there is meaning to
life. Planets are reaped, and the analogy of consumption is as brutal as it sounds.
If you are going to evolve into extended experience, perceive or participate in
anything at all, you are going to have to deal with a technical equivalent of the
present moment of someone else. The assertion that to evolve into a part of Thee
Broader Present Moment requires ceasing the externalization of the enemy, is the
mirror reversal of promoting hatred. Such is Intent.
Omniscient Wisdom is being spoken of in the feminine.
Omnipotent Will is being spoken of in the masculine.
The re conciliatory embodiment of Conscious perception in The Unlimited is Thee
Light. It's your trial. It's your sentence. It's your funeral.
Christopher G. Burley (2015)
SUBJECT AND OBJECT
Once upon a time in a far away land, there did live a Magician Prince, but, alas, our
highly becoming hero was alone, and an unwanted solitude of course, stings as much
as having nobody around to blame it on. Now being a talented magician our ticklish
friend took from his side, one of his own ribs and did create a mate. Oh, she was a
lovely lass, very fair. Having highhandedly given rise to multiplicity, our shit disturbing
shepherd was forced to address a number of slumber roused realities.
First, the fact that Loving Her, (other, not I, object, that without) was his sole reason
to be, and if he chose to view her as driven snow, he would have to take the wrap for
all the crap in THE LIMITED DYNAMIC and THE STATIC UNLIMITED, UNIVERSE. No
small matter this. He had to see clearly that the window of perception, seeing in
general, loving, hating, experience, addressing challenge, bearing, the window
between observer and that observed, was akin to a separate, quasi-autonomous
individual identity entity and had to view itself as such. Next, the friction loaded fact
that his magnetic attraction to her was so intense that it, like boredom, was a form of
pain. He had traded one discomfort for another, and the only way to escape his
present thorny situation would be to marry her, should She be agreeably interested,
and in so doing, they two become one, in re conciliatory perception and viewed from a
point removed, which of course leaves him back where he began, pinched by an
unapologetic solitude. Finally, and about to burst into an understandable agitated
cacophony, our somewhat haggard adventurer scoped the sobering dawn...
“ it has always been this way, and it will always be this way.” Now our stupefied,

cycle-weary super-hero, understandably having his underwear in a wee twist, did look
skyward and call unto GOD saying, “ with all due respect, who put the bug up your
butt? I'm having a bear of a morning and scripture insists that ( for your pleasure were
all things created ). What; did I accidentally ding your shiny, new, Excalibur motor car
when I was valet at the Heavenly Hilton Hotel or something? And there did instantly
appear before him, a radiant white sphere carrying the sweet scent of a child's
promise and innocence. And yes! There! GOD!! Thee anthropomorphic image. She was
very, very fair indeed ! And God spoke unto the puzzled investigator saying, " pipe
down you fuzzy little; OK, what's the problem? A little cyclic terror? I know your
species; I have a pamphlet here somewhere; OK, so physical and metaphoric birth and
death lurk either side like two thieves, Eh? Yes, the running Taxes on Perception in
The Unlimited have always been, and will always be brutal. Essential potential
incarcerated within the conditioned existential is coal; the bearing, The Living, the
' friction' between the abrasives of subject and object are the only genuinely timeless
diamond. Diamond or dust, is being versus not and this double-edged sword is relative
dualism, viewed from a point removed, by THE LIVING, alone. The polar, dualism of
birth and death is a thorn in the paw, nail in the wrist for all, and for some the last
thing experienced. Would you think omniscience desirable? No search, no discovery.
No sensation of awe or wonder. Sounds a static divine bore, no? We both know that
everything is just a complex way to get the hell out of the house. If no thirst, no
sensation of refreshment. If GOD got problems, they are bound to be big. Oscillating in
and out of The Limited, between solitude and company, is a means to an end, and it's
end in itself. Challenge is a commodity, and worth only what will be paid. Rest only
when the pendulum is upright, but never at rest. Either extremes are viewed a point
removed, or not at all. Either you willingly, of your own volition, all by your lonesome,
decide to put up with things the way they are... or... well, never have been at all!
Perceiving both pain and pleasure is 51% pain, and the future is unlimited for those
that opt to work it. The past is without measure, as are the number and state of
evolutions' indolent failures. At least you have challenge, the periodic bliss of
ignorance, and the exhilaration of revelation. Beats being a near complete waste of
time, space, and groceries, don't you think? It is pointless to expend the slightest
energy, mourning the end of those that choose not to chisel their initials into their
potential for Real Life. They do it to themselves, they never were, opportunity by
design. It almost sounds simple and pleasant to walk humbly with an omnipotent
God, but any blood, sweat and tears downstream from the summit, is a sub sectional
segment of a larger, more concentrated version of the same". And GOD was gone.

COMPOSING, OWNING AND BEING
THE BOOK OF LIFE
The realities of omnipotence, omniscience and a solitary Intent behind creation
suggests that the human situation with all of its' complexities is, to a certain degree,
a staged production and any serious search for a meaning demands an examination of
all of the possible dynamic influences at play. The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and
Evil is dropped, pealed, shredded, bleached and further processed like any other pulp
log to produce the necessary paper bond for the project and the ink is a strange mix
of blood, tears and ashes. The Book of Life is not a sterile list of names but more akin
to an endlessly running round robin tournament with no playoffs and no seasons'
finish. An author does an honest days’ work and retires for the night, but in his
slumber is caught in a dream from which he never leaves. In his dream he arises from
bed and leaves his abode, travels to another house where he is met by a hostile
crowd, the mob promptly putting him to death. In this death the author literally
awakens to begin his day, which of course ends in exactly the same way. This may
make not being at all look good and if our hypothetical author is author of his own
situation reality, it is all very strange indeed. Because the past is unlimited this state
of being did not commence, but has always been and might best be viewed as circular,
or as a snake endlessly devouring its' own tail. The reality of all possibilities being
viewed from a point removed means that perception unlimited within a broader
present moment must be part hell; perhaps fifty percent, and the question is of a
constant volitional determination to be, with no absolute finality, pleasant or
otherwise. Rising, working, retiring, being born , living, dying, all an infinite number of
times a second is the same as an infinite number of times a day or a year, or a life. If
individuals were offered an itemized bill outlining the cost of perception unlimited,
some would refuse to examine it, some would take a look and dismiss it, some would
suggest agreement but be incapable of a serious pursuit of consciousness, and then
there is the handful, the odd genuine impatient. To one degree or another, all humans
have an " isn't broke, don't fix it " attitude towards their ephemeral psychological
conduct but small 'c' consciousness is pinned between birth and death, like the nose
betwixt the ears, and cognizance of this reality may periodically be forgotten, but is
never ever going to go away. Dying to one world, one state of mind, one plane of
reality, so as to be born into another has always been a critical part of the broader
present moment and has always been viewed from a point removed. There is someone
standing right behind you, but this need not make the patient paranoid, but it might;
it's a hazardous universe. There is a 'carbon fiber' thread onto which any can hold; if
there is a meaning to life, the patient is not being asked to do what can't be done, but
this of course does not mean any is owed having perception. Just the opposite, there
is a weight to carry and a duty to do so, and such is done completely of ones' own
volition. Nobody has ever been coerced or cajoled into becoming someone, and being
alive in the unlimited can only be viewed as appealing if challenge be viewed as a
prized commodity. The concept of inertia was part of unlimited reality before the
Moon began its' long fall into the Pacific. Some people insist they have seen elephants
in a state of mourning over the sight of one of their group lying dead, but this does not

indicate awareness of there being a consciousness, of a reality, before birth and after
death as does the act of burial. The second human curse is the sensation of being an
independent observer, with a viewed external other, and these two linear handicaps
intersect, there, behind your eyes. The third line to intersect there, is an indication of
a ' place' where there are very few but very large laws, a titanic struggle between the
more base of instincts and the summit of cold, stainless steel higher intellect. The
tendency is to seek and, or accept pleasure and avoid and, or flee pain, and viewing
both as having equal footing must be just plain wrong. If the sensation of lemonade
refreshment is spoken of in a positive manner, the absolutely indispensable
phenomena of thirst was already there. The Intent behind the Will of Creation, The
Ultimate Consumer is a very strange ' place' indeed.
BASIC MULTIPLICITY
Ultimately, the universe can be viewed as based on numbers, and if you know what
the digits mean, counting backwards from nine is to walk the last steps to The Throne
of God. Anybody can take a shot at the impossible; wrapping your brain around
Absolute Unity and The Unlimited, by first editing out any and all multiplicities. No
subject and object, sensation of I and not I, of being and not. It is difficult to avoid
skipping straight from Absolute Unity to the tetradic, ( fourfoldness ) because the
appearance of 'other' automatically means a border of Perception between observer
and that observed and all Three of these players can grasp, see the situation from a
point removed. The signature of this Framework Reality carries through every
devolved cosmological level, and if you think of your field of vision as being square,
face the fact that you live in an echo, agree to view all the dynamics of the limited
from a point removed, and primarily within yourself, you are up. This timelessly static
level of abstraction can be viewed as counter part to the limited, intentionally tainted,
staged challenge of time and life as you know it; the ephemeral universe is a
subsection of Being. It has always been this way, and it will always be this way, and it
is being observed, even stressed, that boredom is a form of pain. For the sake of our
mentation, let us float that you work a serious days' physical labour, and arrive home
to a favourite comfy chair. Ahhh, heaven. Perhaps, in twenty minutes you are ready to
rise and move about a little; it does not take long for a motionless hinge to begin to
stick. If for some bizarre reason you are stuck pinned in your chair, in twenty hours
you will be in tears, in twenty days, suicidal. Anybody suggesting an interest in
Perception Unlimited must eventually approach the question of why the multiplicities
of subject and object, good and evil, and being verses not are a part of the human
situation, and ultimately face the fact that externalizing the enemy is counter-evolutionary,
and the fact that oscillating in and out of the limited existential universe
is universal for absolutely all. In esoteric art, Noah is instructed to cut a window in the
building on the upper deck of his Ark but given only one dimension, a cubit, perhaps
expressing the movement from absolute unity towards multiplicity in general. If there
is going to be an opening at all it is going to be square. Six, six, six, is called the sign
of both the beast and man. Add the mathematics of matrimony and it explains the
situation pretty well, if you let it. Everybody eats, everybody breaths, ingests

experience, has a sensation of left and right, and lives with physical and metaphoric
death on the horizon. Some have decided that these common denominators do not
apply to them and that their condescending contempt for such nuisance bits of reality
is noble, honourable, brave, and even holy. If I had to choose between working the
split shift endlessly, verses not being at all; first I would sit down and have a stiff
drink, maybe a little nosh, and I would have to take the work... but, that's me.
THE BLOCK
For the sake of our mentation, let us work with the premise that you just happened to
live in a perfectly square block of houses, with partially like-minded neighbours. You
come together agreeing to landscape your block to convey known mundane matters,
and, some admittedly abstract ones and to create an escape module, an Ark. These
numbered concentric spaces are bordered by level seven, The Street, and beyond
that Perdition. The cascade orders the spectrum of visible light, the notes of the
octave scale, a basic cosmology, and a clear indication of the direction in which Real
Life lies. The word Way means Path. A.P.B. stands for (as per the border between
levels four and five). The words union, unity, reunion and universe obviously share a
common etymological thread. Uni is One. Perhaps the reason the word (university)
shares this root is because the first places of higher learning were founded on the
assertion, or assumption, that there is some sort of meaning to life, that is, a possible
evolution into an extended experience. The cosmology is a psychological template
that can be superimposed upon all of the observable, comprehensible universe, in an
attempt to offer structure for your thinking. The note 'DO' sounds at both ends of every
octave, and corresponds to The Unlimited. Be it of time or space you are not normally
and naturally capable of fully wrapping your small 'c' consciousness around the
infinite. Can only see a star so far. The word repentance is generally defined as (to
suffer regret for things done or left undone). It is only in a vague or offhanded way
being suggesting that to suffer regret will automatically lead to change. The
original Greek word translated as repentance is 'metanoia' and means inversion,
reversal, (change of mind). Time to turn and face the music. In The Unlimited, you can
know pain and pleasure, or just pain, or nothing. If you wish to employ the Block
Diagram for your thinking, a basic dualism is required. In or out. Anybody will from
time to time long after finality. Perdition, (eternal death) alone offers this. Life in the
Unlimited is challenging work; Thee Broader Present Moment guarantees a certain
amount of suffering, but none of it pointless. A bird with one wing, is unrighteous,
cannot fly, and corkscrews down. Take it or leave it. You have your seed-money small
' b' being, your potential in levels Five, Six, and Seven; you consume substantial bread
of The Garden, level Five. You literally take shelter in level Six. Switching to figurative
language, you stand in your front room looking into The Street, level Seven. The Street
teems with the ephemeral divisions of nation, race, language, economics, and
acquired, temporal organized religion. Your transitory sensation of having ' will' is as
doomed as your physical hide. You can see and comprehend the patterns of the
masculine and feminine , which are of The Unlimited, but extra-temporal Perception is
what reconciles them, and lives at the center of The Block. Your sensation of subject
and object, I and not I, and it's re conciliatory aperture is the key. You have the will

ability to pursue consciousness, but it is a fist fight with the dynamics designed to try,
to drag you off the dead end of the spectrum. In the crunch, externalizing the enemy
is the same as hating the ' window' of experience Perception in general, and by
extension, hating it's Uncreated Maker. Level Two, The Center, as Thee
Anthropomorphic Image, represents (someone) dealing with the Colossal Common
Denominators of Real Life in The Unlimited. Physically you are born, (one ear),
physically you live, ( your nose ), and physically you die, (other ear). You were in a
subsection of Thee Present Moment of another all along; it just never dawned on you.
In metaphoric language, successful evolution is the reverse. You must (die) to the
transitory ephemeral world, to be (born) into the extra-temporal. Recalling it all...
well...That's Life. If it turns out there is somebody that can Trash Utopia, be assured,
it is going to stay trashed. To work The Split Shift once, is one thing. To face the
concept of doing so endlessly, quite another. What we are going to find out, is if you
got the Parts to stay. Omniscience knowing, doesn't help you. If you try to lean on
smoke, you are going to get scuffed up. Fantasy cotton-candy finality, is found to be
infidel suicide. Ultimately, all of the dynamic influences of The Limited Material
Universe can be viewed from a point removed and is a difficult place to complain
about anything. Some distill flowers and call the result, essence. The existential
undertaking, efficiently sorts the handful of those prepared to carry the weight of
seeing it all. This offered, psychologically detached ken might best be expressed by
the symbolism of a pendulum at rest, that is, in upright or righteous. Preferential
particularity is akin to insisting that the laws of physics like one, and dislike another.
Calling the externalization of the enemy righteous, is to insist that GOD has an identity
crisis. The Devil is very, very good, at what He does. To one degree or another he has
all of you snowed. There is no evil, renegade god posing some terrible threat to,
beyond reach of, a fluffy, nice One. Perception in The Unlimited is designated by a
(square window) through which Him and Her view one and other, and everything and
everybody else downstream. Some suggest that Gabriel is one of only four, (tetra)
Archangels, ever mentioned, ever, anywhere. Tiny club, but for an extra-temporal
member of THE FAMILY FIRM, an unruly mob. As potential you are a conveyance
without an operator, asleep at the wheel, and dogged by myriad 'parasitic' dynamic
psycho-demons. If you are the sort accustom to throwing around the word Heaven, the
road there, leads through downtown Hell. The Machinery of Planetary Reaping is not
obliged to tell the difference between a Buddhist and a Baptist, it just reads
arrogance. Metanoia is measured against the road to Damascus. Important point of
formal theology; someone, can make the dead alive again. Hope is a humble little
trickle of moisture. Unfounded certainty tends to solidify into a brittle hard,
pressurized, projectile. Fake gods, violent or not, all burn, unceremoniously. Were
there no question, everything really would be a completely pointless waste of time,
space, energy and experience. There is no slick, shiny, sophisticated evil. It is all that
is vile, petty, niggardly, indolent, smug and small. The walking dead are a bomb. The
second most frightening thing in The Universe is the fact that The Magician Prince
makes no idle threats. Just does not bother. Absolutely everything comes out in the,
cathartic, reverse flow, wash. Serve no good purpose to ' beat around the bush' here;
many thoroughly average people have degenerated into toxic, judgmental bits of lint,

and much worse, some have dragged the concept of God into it. Let us suggest a
triad; Knowledge, Wisdom, and Understanding. As stated, omniscient Wisdom might
be spoken of in the feminine. Must not leave Will standing about empty handed, how
about Knowledge? As for the re conciliatory aperture of Conscious Perception in The
Unlimited, the word Understanding could use a topsy-turvy flip. To Stand-Under. No
metanoia, no turn, no chance, no life, no Way. With a sincere attempt at introspection
it is possible to see the indolent, opportunistic tendency for a medicating man-made
certainty to call ' itself' a noble, faithful, holy, belief; easier to see this in others than
in 'yourself'. It is a rare and impatient individual that will actually work towards
isolating, and 'drying out' their own purely ephemeral sensation of validity, in Phoenix
watch, and it is obvious that evolutions' most spectacular failures are determined to
calm 'themselves' by doing precisely the opposite, buttressing what is doomed.
Modern medicine attempts to design and create a drug that will target and affect a
specific problem in a specific cell and leave surrounding tissue unaffected. Modern
satellite technology can deliver two different signals to two different dish receivers in
closely adjacent target locations, and customers can phone to request changes. It is
not that far 'out there' to face the fact that any humans' transitory sensation of
autonomous will, or their attachment to any man-made temporal label, or generic,
indolent assumption of being a valid player in The Limited or The Unlimited, can be
laser targeted and selectively incinerated by Conscious Light, whether they actively,
intentionally seek any changes or not, and, as walking about. The reasonable and the
radical are difficult to reconcile in words, but, to actually have any part with durability
Unlimited, gives inevitable part, with any other part of that which by definition has no
parts, by way of being Unlimited. The number one most frightening fact in The
Limitless; when dealing with The Magician Prince, in the long run, you deal with His
WHOLE FAMILY.
BIZARRO-BORDER
If you say to people " tell me quick, what's the opposite of death"?; you are always
going catch the odd nink-in-poop, going to say life. Within a (polar) view of things, birth
could be called the counterpart to death, and life the 'thing' that connects the two
traumatic events. Birth and death are two ends of same stick, and let us say that 'life',
the stick, be pictured horizontally. If you insist on calling life the opposite of death,
you can only be accommodated with the use of a different flavour of dualism,
(relative), as in infinite vs finite, or being vs not. A circle viewed 'edge on' presents a
stick, appearing to have two ends, but we, (ever so clever), know that both of these
terminus are actually receding off into the distance, and in fact meet, some-where,
over there. Let us now set our relative stick vertical, at right-angles to the polar
dualism, and where they intersect affix a tetratic aperture, 'square window'. Hey, this
is kind of like YOU. Birth and death lurking either side, your head has heard of the
concept of a possible evolution into Unlimited experience, and the earth beneath your
feet is as doomed as your transitory physical hide. The third nail to intersect at our
'window' of perception is (good and evil), and it of course must interact with the
backside of our 'edge on' circle, you know, over there. You are on one side of all this,
but to have perception in The Unlimited, REAL LIFE, TO BE ALIVE it has to be both.

ZERO
THE UNIVERSAL LAW OF MIRROR REVERSAL
Obviously, there is no shortage of people that routinely throw around the concept of a
single intelligent creator source to All, and of course that famous duo, Omniscience
and Omnipotence. If you dare bring these creatures into your China Shop you have to
deal with them being there. You know that old sophist chestnut, ' if God can do
anything then God must be able to tell you one whopper of a lie, just to see if you got
the brains to know when you are being lied to'. The universal law of mirror reversal is
suggesting that some of the things that people get wrong, they tend to get perfectly
backwards. In formal apocalyptic theology there is a basic warning against any
attempt to alter the words of prophetic esoteric art, but this is automatically
something of a vicious little circle. If the warning is legitimate, originating from 'on
high', then everything but the warning is thus suspect. In a hazardous universe, if you
are part of a temporal religious tradition that demands that you take literally all you
have and forbids 'critical intellect', insists salvation in buckling to peer pressure from
'people' claiming a monopoly on the truth, you are under assault from a specialized
intentional dynamic influence called ' the false prophet'. The incineration of
evolutions' failures is a technical matter and nothing personal. Up until your last
breath, if you can't make conscious, constructive use of not knowing if you have Being
in The Unlimited, the framework of Thee Broader Present Moment will crush you like a
bug anyhow. To come even and have any chance of surviving the travail of metaphoric
birth you must see and accept the ' big tent' and all of its' players. The word Son, in
its' evolutionary usage, obviously carries the re conciliatory connotation (offspring,
parented, between birth and death) and carries the signature of the masculine, as
does the Devil. Once downstream from Will, the undertaking runs its' friction-loaded
course. The human mechanism instinctively mounts a fight or flight response to a
perceived external threat or internal calamity, (disease, denial). The base animal
tendency must eventually be juxtaposed to the counter-intuitive realities of successful
human evolution, of Real Life. The psychological phenomena of externalizing the
enemy can be examined in a similar manner within the offered maxim, As Above, So
Below. The Living, view (yes and no) and any other set of extremes you got, all from a
point removed. Always have, always will. You can run but you can't hide, and calling
your hate ' holy' is like struggling to lift a board that you are standing on. When in pain,
to recall its' counter-part is easy. When feeling fine, recalling its' consort requires a
conscious effort and might appear an idiot pursuit. The limited, material, existential
undertaking is intentionally designed to bring the courser and more common to the
fire and allow the rare seed-money potential its' chance to decide whether or not to
try to survive. The Ultimate Consumer is peckish, and this vacuum can be viewed as a
cause and effect situation. The supra-petulant are hurling themselves into the toilet
for a reason. Their contempt for Reason is peaking, and the fact that there is a God, is
very bad news. If ninety-nine per cent of the people on this planet assume they
automatically have an indestructible cohesion of identity, then the way things are,
ninety-nine per cent have absolutely no chance of evolving. The indolence of
assumption is one of the crown jewels of purest satanic nonsense and frighteningly

common. Unfounded durability is felony usurpation, is bottom line, the back wall, the
great equalizer, and a good place to begin the postmortem. If you are caught
attempting to 'usurp the throne', assuming divine durability, or just allowing your
unrighteous demons control, you are in direct opposition to the Real God and this can
never end well. The next level of inevitable perdition destruction is preferential
particularity; if The Machinery does not know what you call yourself, how can it treat
one different from another? The divisive labels of language, race, nation, ephemeral
religion, simply do not register with the laws of physics, and you are facing La
Machine Reap. If you attempt using the man-made rot of 'extraordinary status' to
justify violence you are off the meter, way beyond ruin. If you are a fake god, who is
the last one you want to show up? Now you know why there are so many stars in the
sky. The expression 'throwing good money after bad' springs to mind. It is pretty rough
to face the fact that those considered to be cultural heroes are the most rotten of
road kill. The note 'DO' corresponds to The Unlimited, and for some, their sentence at
the spectrum's dead end is growing exponentially; no peace of not being at all. If you
have an elaborate pseudo-religious tradition of externalizing the enemy, just hearing
the way things really are, bound to start screaming that your concocted validity is
under attack. It is tempting to harbour a pseudo-holy 'red herring', but keeping that
bug up your butt is evolutionary suicide. The rise and fall of terrestrial kingdoms is a
part of the dynamics of the undertaking, and to decide, out of the blue, that your God
is on your side is more than a little opportunistic. The rain is made fall upon the just
and the unjust alike, and no matter what you call yourself, one thing you can be
certain of, the machinery of evolution has never heard of the label. You do not have to
be capable of reading to behold the imagery of a seed or The Cross to see what the
universe is going to do to the ego. In more ways than one, welcome to His world. The
common denominators of Life in The Unlimited can do without a label, but, that said,
I live in The Temple of The Highly Holy Rutabaga. I'm the only one here; must be the
head honcho. The word Church means Congregation. Most of evolutions more
spectacular failures would have been much better off as deists, never having heard of
the concept of revelation. There is an inevitable tendency toward external attachment
to both agreeable friend and disagreeable foe, as if successful evolution had anything
to do with either, let alone depended on such. Modern psychiatric medicine, no serious
doubt, employs some clinical term for what we might call 'projection'. Those
convinced that it is their duty to turn the planet into a theo asylum, assume that the
quasi-sane part of the world is equally determined to impose the right to critical
intellect upon them, which of course would constitute the ultimate evil threat. Their
fear of, and contempt for The Feminine has everything to do with their sensation of
other, and threatened bogus validity. You know that old chestnut, ' I doubt everything,
accept, that I doubt; that I doubt is the only thing about which I am absolutely
certain'. Certainty is like a cut of meat, eventually it goes from being (for some) highly
appetizing, to quite the reverse. Certainty is used for calming the self. A drowning man
will grasp even for the blade of a sword, but it is fear of painful challenge that pushes
evolutions failures down the drain. It is tempting to feel that all will be well provided
that you obey somebody. Problem is, there is no guarantee that anybody around you is
Alive, let alone that what they try to feed you has any part with The Truth. The human

mechanism isn't junk, and it is not just a containment vessel. Without going into the
parts, or the function of the parts of a brain, we might simply assert that an individual
brain cell has a spatial, physical individuality, but partakes in the mental activity of
the entire organ. If God has got problems they are bound to be big, and like it or not,
these problems now are yours. To use a severely compact scale, if you are going to
evolve into extended experience, you must cope with landing two distinct levels of
consciousness above your terrestrial norm, and the first of these is a subtlety superior
introspective awareness. A sincere attempt must produce a graduated list of client
demons, booked to burn. Trouble has arrived in the atomic and flying your ship into the
Sun is the only way out. No brownie points for fasting, no instant development.
Conversation from gut to head says you must spar with and master the damn clients or
you never were. This covers every possible pious crumb. You physically perish, no
matter how, you go into a system you know next to zip about. Entertain a bogus
assumption about anything, call indolent cowardice ' holy', and it will cost you
absolutely everything. You just happen to be on the planet at the commencing of an
epoch called 'sorrows', and if you drop dead tomorrow you really must come back and
see it; you really, really must. If we were all on the other side of some other galaxy,
every stick there would have two ends, every circle an inside and out, and the quotient
of One divided by Three run endlessly off into both the past and future. Such common
denominators infuriate the power mad. It is obvious that the people ruling many
nations are criminally insane and some are way beyond 'run of the mill' walking dead.
To call them hostile to the concept of being Alive would be a charitable
understatement, and it is difficult to imagine what the deprogramming of this tragic
mess will look like. Some are an educational example of 'making a living' out of
externalizing the enemy and crowning themselves with the attributes of divinity. The
wardens of these Frankenstein asylums are under indictment for crimes against God,
the Universe, and Reason. Any temporal aggregate of people has some doomed,
unbecoming qualities and some of the concocted 'laws of men' are pure nonsense.
The days business is done, the doors closed and locked and it is just you and the
brutal, ruthless, machinery of evolution left in the place. You do not argue or negotiate
here, at best you can ' litigate', try to demonstrate a willingness to 'take the wheel'
and navigate the endless challenge of Being. Some folk take great pride in their
inability to literally sit still, calling it industriousness. Psychologically speaking, be
zealous in your attempt to 'sit quietly in your room'. Everybody eats, breaths,
entertains a sensation of other, and lives with death lurking on the horizon. In the
figurative metaphoric language of The Broader Present Moment, consumption is the
essential potentials' development at the persona's expense. Respiration is the
expansion and decommissioning of the limited, (time as you know it). Being in the long
run requires; 'other' as driven snow, (taking responsibility), and of course,
omniscience lives with timeless cognizance of the split-shift. If you force-feed your
children toxic particularity propaganda, they will suffer for (the sins of the fathers),
and as for the fathers, all of this will be compounded. It's your trial, sentence, your
funeral. After infancy, and quite aside from the organized hatred of pseudo-religion,
psychological violence is as common as dirt, and a natural consequence of the
subjective, autonomy-tainted, measure-demanding aspects of the transitory ego

construct. Just got to judge oneself favourably in comparison to somebody else, hell,
anybody else. A highly uncommon human can have a photographic memory, total
recall, be well versed in most everything, but worship at the alter of mind, and from
evolutions point of view be an essential cripple. Genuine evolutionary durability is
largely ineffable but the difference between a cherub and an arch-angel is the
proverbial squaring of the circle. The recalcitrance of assuming persona validity is
equally and inversely proportional to the distance you are from having any chance of
evolving. Being Alive means taking responsibility, and they don't take attendance at
'university'. Whether the chalice is half full or half empty is not the question, bordering
the void has part with both inside and out, and neither. The difference between (Love
of God) claimed, and having Congruous Durability must eventually be approached and
measured and assaulted and ascended and breached. Evolutions more tragic losers
find comfort in emoting that a certain percentage of creation is just a horrible
mistake, and that all they have to do is patiently nourish the bug up their ass until god
arrives to apologize. People in general, indifferent, or bogus religion afflicted, have
had plenty of time to ponder the concepts of Good and Evil and be sucked into the
trap of feeling, assuming, deciding that they are on one side or the other. Birth and
death, challenge verses not, and good and evil are three lines intersecting at a
common location. The perdition-particles, (evolutions failures), are the vapour trail
receding from this endlessly meandering, boredom fleeing, singularity snowflake.
Strange the way things turn out. Wisdom and Will live on a moving train, incessantly
searching for that which they both know cannot ever, possibly be found. As for The
Limited, it is not contradictory to assert that there is nothing impossible for God, and,
that everyone got to eat. No more, no less, The Broader Present Moment, The Ultimate
Consumer. Some sincere, serious thinking people, employ a general rule of
engagement that says, ' it is impossible to describe in words a state of
consciousness'. Borderline oxymoron as it is, a constant attempt to break the rule is
an irresistible challenge, perhaps, is indispensable. If, all by your lonesome, you
decide to try to launch a respectable probe of The Mysteries, and try to employ the
cosmological optical prosthesis of The Block Diagram, it would serve you well to try
to be aware of the all pervasive, Universal Law of Mirror Reversal. If standing on
Earth, it is generally accepted that down is towards it's center and up away from it.
Picture the orbital path of the Moon and expand it into a sphere surrounding the
planet. In our cosmology this Lunar Sphere is down, and the blue-green scum on
face of the earth (organic life) is pinned between it and the center of the planet.
Picture the orbital path of Earth about the Sun and expand it into a sphere surrounding
the star, and we shall call this the Terra Sphere. Let us picture All Planets of the solar
system as one mass, (including any renegade debris), and all of their orbital paths as
one, and of course, expand it into a sphere surrounding the focal point of the system,
the Sun, and call this the Corona Sphere. It is safe to suggest a point in space at the
center of a roughly disk shaped Milky Way Galaxy. Whether a body there, or a black
hole, or generic space, we can call this point the Galactic Sun. We now estimate a
distance from there to the Local Sun, hypothesis an orbital path about the Galactic
Sun, and expand this into our Solar Sphere. Now for some serious distances. We
hypothesis a point in space, at the center of a roughly spherical limited material

universe, (every atom accounted for), estimate a distance from there to the Local
Galactic Sun, hypothesis an orbital path about the center, and expand it into our
Galactic Sphere. Situated at the center, The Limited Sun, any direction we point a
finger, eventually run out of atoms and hit The Unlimited, which, by definition, is
omnipresent. A complicating ' influence' emanating from The Limited Sun must travel
downstream according to Law and first report to every Galactic Sun, and thus effect
this galaxy, this solar system, this planet, requiring passage through our lowly Lunar
Sphere. Every descending step works this way and leaves you in a complex dynamic
place. If life is giving you lemons, remember, things are worse on the Moon. What you
have in common with the vantage of The Limited Sun is, might as well look for Life in
the Here and Now. The indolent fantasy of a cotton-candy finality, is that ever growing
'sucking sound' and it is coming from the Moon. The Devil is what has you place Him
without. There is a tendency to watch oneself when being a charitable lovely. When
being a nasty judgmental dink, it just unconsciously happens. Moving up the
evolutionary, cosmological chain requires focused attention. Going down the toilet
requires none. The note 'DO' beckons both up and down but only pushes the later. One
way to clean a filter is to reverse the flow, but this releases a supra-concentrate of the
contaminates collected. Current events finds the human persona increasingly
sensitive and revealing it's hissing snakes. The Devil is in the toxic little details, and
toxins routinely migrate toward and through concocted boundaries. People insist they
cannot be environmentally responsible because of the economic weather, which is
whipped into a storm by those of little or no conscience. Finance claims the same
autonomous validity as nation states which are burning the ground everybody stands
on. A scaled up version of the Jim Jones massacre; concocted authority is threatened
so if everybody dies, this must prove the validity of borderlines, economic and cultural
particularity and externalizing the enemy. Whether in matters of planetary
stewardship or the concept of a possible evolution, in the crunch to dismiss the
common denominators, higher or lower, is suicide. Like the Box Jelly fish, the rest of
the blue green scum on the face of the earth has a simplistic nervous system and
weapons. For all you know this organic film may plow itself under and there arise
another crop of potential and walking dead. Perhaps the collective yield from this
round can split-shift post the next. If the universe makes any sense there must be love
without doubt somewhere, but power without guilt is absent, even in The Unlimited.
Hope and certainty; everything depends on your telling the difference.

THE RUTABAGA MISSION
Thee Most Highly Holy Rutabaga is, but not on, a mission
Ears reconciled by your nose, downstream signature of The Family Firm
Undertaking was born, obviously does live, and eventually will come to term
Common denominators of the limitless ken, are on both sides of fission
Fall and saw and split and haul, firewood, five times it fights off the chill
Can walk and chew gum, torment a stanza, wonder why nothing come
Quadrangle-centric, synergy sum, superior to the list of parts, can be done
Cook my own meals, wash my own dishes, last gasp of transitory will
Brutal analogy natures' consumption; combustion, digestive juices and such
Feel the photons upon your face, dead wood burning, princes some
Hey there stardust, born in fusion, as fake gods burn, there, in the sun
We are going to discover if you'll pay to live, and, exactly, how, much
Put some sentimental syrup, on my purge floor, not whole wheat, pancake
Constantly must categorize and rank the things to take dead serious
Must be in the cupboard, cooking dynamic stew, strange spice the spurious
Unleavened bread is static; evolutions' failures bubble, no substance, fake
A quadruped can not set out a fire and cook a rutabaga, a human, yes
Could say a cooked one is a raw one with the extra smarts only a human add
Possible to cook for the Ultimate Consumer, with Light, boil off the bad
Evolutionary introspection inevitable, you can already see, Satanic distress
Muscle a weight to a summit top, just to let roll, is that grin idiot or sly?
The Aperture betwixt Her and Him counts as the tables' third living player
She sometimes seems the most unlikely of professional demon slayer
Limited practical challenge, no joyful reunification without initial goodbye
To externalize the enemy, under a holy guise, is to despise Intent, perception
Pledged your heart and Soul, mind and body, to the devil we hear
Problem is got no soul dim-wit, want to go where? wouldn't start from here
She's not drumming her fingers in wait; no lunatic, fantasy, virgin reception
Could drop physically dead at any old time, still not completely clean
No students to guide; to pay for experienced help Dying, rather rare type
Turn to face the music, struggle to take the wheel, or you're just toxic hype
We all need her vantage; last thing you think of, last thing to be seen
Doctors' most important diagnostic instrument, tell me where it hurt
Tempting seek comfort clucking, thank goodness not as screwed as that
Dead is dead, sentence long or short, lukewarm or lunatic, just lost combat
Can not speak uniformly negative of pain, it is instructive, it does alert

World on the brink, something is turning it more suicidal every day
Animator of the doomed percentage of persona, mourning loss of transitory ken
The ethereal Consciousness need trump ephemeral stupor, only Life then
Most are quick to throw in the towel, buttress the ego, in the grave stay
A river runs through it, purest, odious, toxic, near senseless, tragedy
The mega-fake or indifferent, a scent of hopelessness and desperation
Rather be destroyed forever than face that autonomy has an expiration
Childishness is peaking, rather be master for a breath, than see ecstasy
That eccentric fleeing couple, living on an incessantly moving train
The slightest hint that you can negotiate, who the hell can help you?
The roaster, blanch-er, grinder can not kill this nut, I love her too
How did I end up sandwiched in this waylay? Hell, I avoid pain
Not some broadly smiling, pseudo-mystic, beneath an orange blossom tree
Fake gods are dangerous, but nothing compared to the genuine item
The Mysteries are a tangle, but if you can read em, you can write em
You can't comprehend the reckoning coming, talking absolutely, fluff-free
No limit flop, oh, flush, oh, it's straight, oh, to the ace, do spades help?
Always gluttons for punishment, the fantasy assumption of being a player
The petty peddlers of particularity, the absolute zenith of nadir betrayer
Keep betting if you want, I'm all in, rather be a whale than a kelp
No personality cult here, inevitable unflattering mirror, often tedium dull
Disciples sawing logs, disappointing din, suggested that you stay awake
Not telling you again, not a saving obedience, tell you for your sake
Impatience odd virtue, settle your domesticated outrage, or gone in cull
Intelligent design eh? as if opposites, it sorts the living from the dead
One that can look right through you, bound to be bound up in your shame
The percentages are brutal, sweat blood or it not matter what you've read
Blame it on me, but me alone, system survived, the source of your pain
Hope you are developing an ear for convoluted logic, it's a sinking lead
Embodiment distance all to fall, falls on other side of planet, in the rain
Reaping is reaping, it not much matter if he a grim fellow or not, it said
Perfect storm brewing, weeds and wheat, dead is dead, it's all the same
Through the wringer, punch drunk brothers settled, both refuse the bed
The multi-headed Hydra will always gladly, boastfully tell you its' name
Got a bad clam in a wise-guy wine-bar, toxic poison have been fed
Wood is bleeding worm, colossal reversal whiplash, the Devil found lame
Time to end the occupation, war in heaven, is war there, in your head
All those around you may not be real, bet all, lose all, costly fantasy claim

Vengeance is His, medium is Matrix, the crunch is end of the bifurcated
Omniscience, the Split-Shift and toxic fake gods, dejà vu all over again
To borrow some words from one Arther Guitherman, a poet himself
Cesar's dead and on the shelf, And I don't feel so well myself
THE MELON
For the sake of our mentation, let's say we have a nice ripe melon, and its’ interior is
something of a mystery. We take a sharp knife and make two tiny, intersecting
incisions to remove a wedge-shaped segment, and give us a small glimpse the orbs'
interior. The melon is The Limited, material, existential, ephemeral, temporal,
transitory, dynamic, intentionally tainted, utilitarian Universe; uncreated, primarily to
deliver challenging experience to Him and Her, and secondarily, to sift the handful of
people 'thirsty' enough to wish being absorbed into their Broader Framework Present
Moment. The wedge-shaped slit is all that you see. Accumulated natural science
allows you to know that there is a 'world' beyond both ends of the spectrum of visible
light, but the infra red and the ultra violet are just a scratch. You know that some of
the stars in the sky are long gone and the light only now reaching you, (seeing time),
but this is just a tantalizing little blip. Where things become more serious, and
intimately personal, is now that The Broader Present Moment is beginning to x-ray
you, and eventually will cause the doomed sediments to slowly and painfully burst into
flames. It doesn't matter how near or far; Omniscience, The Machinery of Evolution,
and Inevitability are all perfectly real, and you can't lean on any of them. A certain
percentage of humans insist the universe owes them life, as Him and Her insist it is
not owed to them. Only the genuinely durable are right.
THE ACORN
There is a thing, or culture, or 'world' described as Judaic Christian. If you can't live
within quasi-sane, realistic, representative, transparent, secular law; The Machinery
of Planetary Reaping, will chew you up, and spit you out. Some very prosperous
nations teach a 'spun' version of history. Any humans interested in a possible
evolution into extended experience, must eventually be prepared to examine how a
planet is reaped; why The Living have to remember the trauma; and see that
impatience is an individual matter. In these turbulent times, perhaps what the world
needs is a nice, new, neutral, nonthreatening, nondenominational, nomenclature, a la
nut. For the sake of our mentation, let us say we have a fresh, green acorn and for
some reason we want what is inside. If we attempt to 'shell' this beauty in its' present
state, we are pretty much guaranteed to bruise, or in some other way injure the 'meat'
of the nut. What to do? Let us set the patient out in the sun to dry. As the moisture
evaporates, the shell hardens, its' colour changes, it darkens slightly, and perhaps
separates a bit from the interior of our subject. In the fullness of time, a masterful,

well-placed whack, fractures the imprisoning containment vessel revealing the object
of our interest. The words thrash and thresh are brutally similar. Sometimes, ground is
spoken of in the feminine (mother earth), and seed in the masculine. Incubation ends
with the seed 'dying' unto itself. Human metamorphosis involves environment,
development, and expense.
WHAT YOU ARE
If you lie you are a liar, stuck with the liability being, of a liar. If you steal you are a
thief, stuck with the being of a thief. Lying and stealing are definitely (registered acts
of consciencelessness) and yes, whether repentant or not, you will suffer the
appropriate death. It's not so much the goods and trust lost, or the inconvenience cost
by such Misdemeanors as is the fact that nobody really Alive is intimidated by the
mindless machinery of evolution, or Thee grand sentient Being. It is ' implosion' due to
aversion to taking responsibility; (no parts). As in relative, paying for some things is
much more painful than paying for others. Suggesting that the universe owes you life,
is a Five Star Felony, and whether it Wisdom, Will, or Being, The Unlimited by definition
has no parts. The difference between a pick-pocket and a fake god is a measure of
degree; of arrogance, and from an admittedly abstract point of view, it not much
matter the distance to fall, the length of sentence, because dead is dead. If you loiter
at one extreme of a pendulums' possible movement, hurling abuse at it's other
extreme and calling all of this righteous, technically, you are (too stupid to be alive).
No matter how people stumble upon awareness of it, the fact that there is a chance,
let alone a guarantee, that their thoughts, feelings, and opinions mean absolutely
nothing, causes the human mechanism to quickly (circle the wagons); 'I sit a monarch,
upon a throne, and know no sorrow'. Can't choose your parents, can choose your
friends, as for your enemies, a complex question that can only be addressed if Alive.
How dare the 'physics of the grave' dismiss your sanctioned assumption of divine
durability and moral superiority? The petty little mind of the transitory ego has a
remarkable ability to morph this tragic crap into something noble. Defending the right
to indifference, faced with the inevitability of the wringer, insisting sovereignty over
the arena, (mind) is deemed a legitimate, even honourable duty, a strength, until found
turning in the toilet bowl. The Cannons of Reality labeled as intrusive. Humans in
general face a catharsis, either transforming or terminal. In this process there is no
middle ground, you're either nourishing your fantasy illusions or starving them, you are
either throwing taxing conscious light upon your doomed client demons, or letting
them pilot the conveyance. A sincere attempt at focused introspection can, in time, at
the expense of the parasites, cause the miraculous appearance of a single operator, a
quasi-legit, tentative, ability to say, " I am ", and eventually to the $64,000 question.
Who there is watching the watcher? Just as anything else that meets the criteria of
Thinghood, (limited in space and born to die), if you do nothing, 'It' is recycled. A rock
may or may not suffer being broken down into sand, but only within the 'world' of
rocks. You are not the acme of creation, but you can see the summit, if you got the
parts to look. Trillions of eons before the present expansion of The Limited, at a

raucous board meeting of The Family Firm, it was suggested a painless way to distill a
yield from an undertaking. You can see the way that turned out. It was (so-to-speak),
voted down as insipid. In fact, The Patriarch Total Power was so agitated by the entire
sorted affair, He accidentally folded the limited 'existing' tent at the time. He
intervened personally on some little planet somewhere to scratch an itch on some
little girls' nose, which of course blew 'everything' to smithereens. He has always
been vulnerable to these driven snow girls, (drag Him into murder, you are nuts). Some
speak of an earthquake, or a murder, or a hang-nail and with routine speed declare it
'the will of god', before or after the fact. Such a habitual flight from thinking, does you
no good and cannot go on forever, if only because to evolve requires 'litigating' against
the mindless machinery of planetary reaping, and this, you alone must do. Yes,
existence as you know it is downstream from Will, including all of the dynamics
intentionally designed to keep you in an unconscious somnambulist coma,
externalizing the enemy, and encouraging the opportunism of declaring it all, ever so
' holy'. Perdition feeds as sure as Life. Both nature and mega-dead people, periodically
require death, and lots of it. Both can be a sign of the times, or happen at any time.
Nature and the false prophet are not punished for this; false martyrs are. There is an
unnatural storm coming, that is going to knock absolutely all of you flat. The concept
of suffering for Righteousness' sake has been around for quite some time now. In The
Unlimited, to remember anything at all, to walk away, this, as potential, is, what you
are.
TURNING SEPTIC
You don't have to be a theo fascist or indifferent to Life, to be among the ' walking
dead'. Some try to cope with the inevitability of the grave by simply deciding that they
have divine durability and are owed life in abstract reality, which of course, is pure
satanic nonsense. Some of these indolent, opportunistic losers, would be murders
even without dragging the concept of god into things, and ultimately, are those that
spend the longest time wishing that they never were at all. If you bet it all and lose,
you lose it all, and the closer that the worlds' more spectacular failures get to their
sentence in at the spectrum's dead end the more pissed they are becoming. The anti-upright
fake gods are ' peaking' and the approach of Reason is hardening their
desperate grip on doomed, convoluted logic. If they do murder; 'will of god' ; if they
force the rest of the world to scrape them from the face of the earth; off to their
cotton-candy reward. It is all tragic sour grapes, evolutionary suicide; shit, concocted
by the walking dead and petrified into a mega-dead subculture. Put as much fluffy
religious topping on things you like, murder is murder, dead is dead. Preferential
particularity, plus indolent fantasy durability, equals, the perfect storm of toxic
tantrum. The Undertaking, people in general, are ' turning septic' due to the
phenomenon of ' bounce echo'. The Magician Prince, prior to his execution makes the
assertion that," the prince of the earth is judged", which means having been through
the wringer; transitory labels dismissed as illusion, ephemeral sensation of will
evaporated or ' bled' away, allowing Him to Understand that 'posting' the planet was a
severely extreme form of performance art, expressing the same metaphoric death.

None can get up and walk away without facing this. For the sake of our mentation, let
us work with the premise that the Magician Prince makes good on his threat to return,
and again survives 'metaphoric divorce' from ephemeral, small ' r' reality. The planet is
awash with bizarre, fantasy notions of what judgment, ascension, successful human
evolution is, and how it all might work. We speak now of The Real Thing, and the
implications of someone being 'system survived', and still walking about. Such a one
would actually have inevitability in his pocket; have part with La Machine Reap and
thus be the embodiment of exactly how far everybody had to fall. People in general,
older than two years of age, have an acquired persona, a certain percentage of which
is a 'doomed thing', and has its' own purely utility animation principle, it's own limited,
transitory, little mind. Genuine cathartic transformation involves tracing absolutely
everything back to the source; The Family Firm, and facing their signature; your
sensation of left and right. There has never been a time when the Masculine and the
Feminine were not reconciled by the embodiment of Perception in the unlimited. This
'uncreated' plane of Being is both, beyond the edge of the limited, and omnipresent;
both sides of the border of the normally comprehensible. The Magician Prince has hit
the back wall, and current events are exhibiting a 'reflux echo' of the impact;
extremely painful news for any human persona. The limited, material, undertaking
involves dynamics and sub-dynamics. Capital 'C' Consciousness (Light) is converted
into words; genuine prophetic esoteric art, Thee Mysteries, in general. The thought
demanding complexity, is a dynamic, as is the absence of immediacy in the
punishment of the obviously evil, and the fact that most live their entire lives never
seeing the miraculous. Humans transform what they have into, ( for lack of better
words) a ' faith system' and sometimes completely bastardize the Art for base,
mundane purposes, which in turn creates a class of sub-dynamics. These are the more
volatile bits of self-serving rubbish; medicating, calming, pedantry; obviously some
cultures outgrow and abandon things, while others will cling to primitive crap by
simply outlawing critical intellect. Organized religion is automatically somewhat idiot
in that there are more than one of them and involve some exceptionalizm; sectarian is
nonsense squared. Temporal, secular law may allow idiot conduct, but participants
still land stuck with the being of an idiot. The dogma rules of a ' faith system' are
created by humans, and some of them destroy many more people than lukewarm
indifference. If you are killed for righteousness' sake; refusing to externalize the
enemy, you have a chance. If you underpin the self with scapegoating, La Machine
Reap will read you as 'off-side', and of course, the wages of 'missing the mark', (sin),
are total destruction, at best. If you routinely suggest that God can do anything; a
system where evolutions failures do it to themselves is not a problem. The word
judgment is problematic in lacking immediacy and implying conscious, sentient
wagging of finger; as if Will himself come to grab you by the hand or by the throat. At
best you get a current, respectable attempted exegesis of what The Machinery of
Evolution does, will do, and is doing; with or without your interest or consent.
Strangely enough, if man 'A' says to man 'B', " you are not conscious", and in reaction
man 'B' is offended by this impudent suggestion; during the event of upset, man 'B'
actually is irritated conscious. Clear as mud that. Such a hypothetical encounter could
be viewed as involving two players, or include an invisible 'synergy third'. If interested,

watch yourself. "In your (so called) normal and natural state, you are going nowhere.
You don't have to be a murderous, hateful, fake god to be among the 'walking dead';
lukewarm indifference to Consciousness, will do it." Make no sense to pursue a cross-section
of The Broader Present Moment if you don't ' believe' it is there and attainable.
Déjà vu could be an accidental contact with ' thee wire' and if the experience
phenomenon is real at all, it is entangled the extra-temporal. The Devil is arrogance,
and if you let him in, you pay for it eventually. Current events are screaming that there
is some 'thing' beginning to bleed out of humanity, its' collective situation, its' present
moment, its' limited ephemeral life. A healthy body has an autoimmunity to combat
infection and fevers rise and fevers break. If you harbour bogus assumption, harbour a
victim mentality, call it ' holy' or not, you are an open wound and ' turning septic'.
CHALLENGE
AND THE COST OF DISMISSAL
It would sound more than a little self-centered for Him to suggest that the entire
limited material universe was designed and created to deliver challenging experience
to a single individual. Actually, there are two, and their Common Present Moment is
'uncreated' because both the past and the future are unlimited, meeting in the here
and now, for them, you know, those two, forward and back; Intent and Other. Who's got
your nose? Rumor has it that ' for Gods' pleasure were all things created' ; sure as shit
would be handy to know exactly what God finds pleasurable. You know less about The
Queen of the South (Her) than you do about The Magician Prince, and you don't know a
whole lot about (Him). They are your birth and death, sensation observer and other,
and all those other inconvenient extremes reconciled by your nose, your limited,
potentiality, present moment. Omniscience, by definition, knows all about the dynamic
medical affliction of masochism, but does not necessarily, periodically suffer such,
endlessly oscillating in and out of The Limited. Omnipotence, by definition, could
change the constant of change, but for some reason, perhaps laziness, does not. Who
the hell are these characters and what do they want, or is 'want' what reconciles
them and motivates their actions or inaction? Unsolicited sophistry is pain in the ass
pollution, and some have no taste for cryptic crossword puzzles, but we are talking
about survival in a hazardous universe that owes you neither explanation or life. Faced
with a suggestion that 'the doing is the pay', being all or nothing sort of people, sort of
makes sense. Perdition has neither endeavour nor compensation, and most of its' prey
and carrion die of indolent certainty and medicating, fantasy finality. Essential
potential born into celebrated pseudo-religious reason-contempt quickly atrophies into
nihilist cynicism only seeking more hosts for the ravenous parasite. Endless
uprighteous challenge is denounced as traitorous. If a 'terrestrial' parasite ends up
homeless in destroying its' host, does this David vs Goliath event (downstream from
intent) involve good and evil, a winner and loser ? If the yield from this entire solar
undertaking is only two Monks, two Nuns, and a Dwarf (little one), would this be some
great tragedy for the Will of Creation? There are tons of stars in the sky, Time is a sad
joke, and if we suggest that The Limited Universe started, might as well say it started
all over again. To all 'things' there is a season; The Static Unlimited Family Firm most

certainly transcends the criteria of Thinghood; yet, may molt, flower, hibernate or take
'spring break'. Contradictory as all this may sound, point is, if you decide against
paying the Taxes on perception in The Unlimited, you degenerate into exhaust, losing
forever the chance to address challenge, enjoy success, or bear a setback well. If you
could choose to be certain of something, it might make sense to pick being sure to
beat the grave; but such a certainty would automatically involve the pains of birth and
life. Wouldn't matter if you wise or not, good looking or not, nice or not. It would
certainly give the opportunity for, perhaps inflict the duty to, take on a role as actor,
pretending to be of the transitory limited. Cursing a blue streak, in itself is not an
insurmountable infraction to pay for, but if an unconscious knee-jerk habit and
unaddressed, the patient is just as terminal as the words. There is no law against
trying to put yourself in the position of someone else, and The Magician Prince might
complain " hell, I just wanted to meet one nice girl, and with the exception of that, not
a highly motivated or ambitious sort; didn't ban myself from life on earth". But, within
the context of what He suggests, regarding human evolution, the second half of his
moaning is quite insupportable. Do you follow? The human ego in general will be
crucified, and if you, (as a so-called individual), are going to get up and walk away,
you're going be cyclically, aware of how the hell you got there, if only because
omniscience is a non-negotiable component of Perception in The Unlimited. In the
long run, to see, you have to see it all; to do, is to do all, and learning to walk the edge
a sword can cut you in half, if you don't master falling off cleanly. If viewing the light
from a distant star that has long ago burned out, you are ingesting visual
information from the comparatively distant past. It is extremely rare for someone to
endure having their transitory persona bleed to death and continue walking about, but
having this bleeding begin to sweep all of humanity is the arrival of implicating
Consciousness from the future, and for evolutions unrepentant failures, like being
' buried alive'. Those that are lukewarm indifferent to the cathartic transformation of
acquired persona decommissioning, do not routinely introduce themselves as a waste
of time and space, whose thoughts, feeling and opinions mean absolutely nothing; just
as doomed as their physical hide. Great merciful crap no! Some spend a life-time
running from the implications of the ' Tax To Be', constantly struggling to 'medicate'
and calm the self; buttress that which can't possibly last with comfort in like-minded
company. The antithesis to Solitary Reality. There is no place that you can go to be
pronounced sincere or otherwise, but, that said, if (all by your lonesome), you sort out
the basic Cannons of Reality; decide that you are prepared to pay the Taxes on
Perception in The Unlimited, you just might evolve; if The Universe makes sense.
Meritocracy has a tendency deem the have-not as deserving such. The technicalities
of compassion must somehow involve selflessness. If (Him) and (Her) are reconciled
by perception, to be, got to be (Love). The 'pivot', is the shift from chemical
distillation, to ' fired' re distillation. Bigotries' accumulated liability sludge will burst
into a bright orange flame. The consciencelessness of the thief and liar will burn as a
blue flame. Violent fake gods and the investment protective are already going ' tire
fire'. The lukewarm indifferent; degenerate into so much frightened, angry smoke.
The ' false martyr' is a climax concentration of indolent arrogance and it is difficult to
miss The Law of Mirror Reversal at work these days. A cowardly flight from bearing is

hailed as noble bravery to be rewarded. Rigid, machine-like obedience to man-made
contempt for re conciliatory reason declared the stuff of divinity and critical intellect
declared infidelity. Have no illusions here; it is Thee Framework Broader Present
Moment, and The Way there that is frightening the false martyrs into sentencing
themselves to an eternity at the spectrum's dead end. Take note of what makes
evolutions' most spectacular failures. The lowest of evolutions' losers use the concept
of god to build and support their fabricated illusion of persona validity; the inevitable
fall is seen as an embodied external threat to the fantasy authority. There is a distinct
difference between bracing for a storm, and doing something that will allow the wind
to pass through you. Calling the externalization of the enemy righteous is to insist that
the storm knows and likes you, but hates itself and that it, and its' Maker must
apologize. The unnerving idea of being only but potential is counterpart to the
arrogance of indolent certainty. In the crunch, to externalize the enemy is to
denounce the Intent behind creation and to refuse the responsibilities of the seat of
Will, to face the mirror and become your own enemy. It is easy to spot and label
something as waste, but we really must be cautious assuming to have any idea how
much Intent might spend in distilling a handful of survivors, or how long a failure
might be held at the dead end of the spectrum. If the theo fascist ultra-mega-dead
were not blowing their brains out these days, you would not have this instructive
indication of the pressures of living 'at depth'. ( no no, that's OK, you don't have to
thank me ). Try to take responsibility, by learning to 'sit quietly in your room', because
if everybody insists that God is on their side, everybody loses.

WANT
Any multi headed Hydras', indolent, psycho puritan polluted, many noggins
Quick to insist, a new head will grow, to plead for decapitation, ' swing away'
Childish, cowardly threat to swamp Hell by volume; no, no, plenty of room
Destine to while away eternity, greatly wishing had hopes' patience paid
Remorse of conscience, can no more be intimidated than gravity can
Opportunistic, self-medicating fantasy weighed, and found to be dense
Not so much what said as the way it put, the arrogance of certainty
Assumptions of validity and ability, will kill, pseudo-holy nonsense
Like some bogus, fly-by-night, life insurance policy scam
Your premiums all went on liquor and balloons, ya bought shit
If satiated, not seeking, only tentatively alive, doomed to be shredded
Even if having genuine Art, must be pursuing Being, to try and interpret
Sliding radio station marker, betwixt band ribbons' two ends
Blinkered present moment is transitory utility vision slit and born to die
If possible to prove no hope, I'd quick avoid that next toothache
No more living in an era where the dentist and blacksmith the same guy
The Messiah got no shortage of technical names or titles
Where ever the hell he is, my favourite, First Born of the Dead
Just so damn bright and cheerful, uplifting, don't you think or feel?
Everybody got be good at something, transmutation, gold starts as lead
How prepared can any human possibly be, for all the implications
Inmates guarded, scowling portraits of satanic psychopaths survey
Face it, people in general are going to burn from the inside out
Some are caught with the being of a violent fake god and it's time to pay
The parasitic judgmental taint, there, in the corner of every eye
To intentionally undermine the ephemeral daze, very rarely ever seen
Unsolicited, unsought, unwelcome medicine will destroy the patient
Genuine durability knows, not decides, such is having always been
Dismount the tormented tiger, no surprise it is going to want to dine
Pickled by perverse, patriarchal, preferential, particularity, quite dead
What percentage of the dynamic undertaking do you flat-out despise?
By extension hate for its' Maker and Perception, no matter what be said
Many make it crystallized clear, they have no interest in the challenge
Yet ferocious in defense of their doomed, transitory sensation of validity
Only the mythical risen Phoenix can remotely suggest ' I have my pride'
Ironic, scared into perdition by the concept of metaphoric death, and a pity

Totalitarians and xenophobes live to spin history, a populations' force feeding
Determined to float brand label and insist some have two ears, others three
National or family honour is elevated to the rarefied strata of divinity
Only an idiot would cross the street to defend a clan conspiracy to atrocity
Not an impatient me, an intelligence in the fabric is allergic to my presence
Cannon of Reality, cathartic transmutation, an impatient is the best you can be
To survive the collapse of the undertaking, the Split-Shift is its' own pay
La Machinery is not going to modify to accommodate your missing fee
Some pundits insist, 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'
Being system survived, Being a walking family, one is Never really alone
Inevitable to forget in the land of The Limited, land of percolating potential
No yield to be reaped lest seed be tended, lest seed be sown
Omniscience, by definition, must know a ton of real pointless crap
Why bother remembering the names of those with no experience thirst?
The willing are absorbed, the lukewarm and lunatic are naturally edited out
They never were, Real Life is an acquired taste, not a single dynamic cursed
Would do most anything for Her, short of surrender the ability to perceive
Even if some noble bit of business, would not possibly remember any of it
No such item as an offensive martyr, such is criminal withdrawal of potential
A fire does not automatically continue to burn, just because it is lit
It matters not which of your ears moves to reconcile, pressure will result
If it is an absolute priority, a diamond you'll be, otherwise, volatile coal dust
It is inevitable that one family member be more interested than another
A realistic, measured self-interest can seem a solo, selfish, distasteful must
A formula that is the product of mind, certainly have no mind of its' own
The Machinery of Evolution just does what it do, incapable of like or dislike
Terminal, exotic Ebola-flu pandemic, an asteroid the size of Iceland, hello!
Not incomprehensible, nor a vulnerable, subterranean, collective, human psyche
The focused attention of conscious labour is all you have to offer the universe
Climate change is an opportunity to practice taking responsibility
If needlessly pollute the waters in this life, definitely have to drink it in another
Stoking divisional tensions, the cost of arms come out of your hide, every penny
A cultural anthropologists' modern psychological international mapping
Facing the 'metaphoric death' of The Machinery of Planetary Reaping, say, now
Different flavours and intensities of preferential particularity, different hues
Doomed nationalist, theocratic prisons grow darker, contempt is sacred cow

Freedom and the right to indifference appear to offer economic opportunities
Some pockets of pure death, vain, bling bling related, might suspect
Ultimately, similar fate to the current victims of ' The Donner Party Effect'
Hapless follow an idiot, land in hell, eating one and other, all claim be 'elect'
Plotting locations and intensities of disappointment due to bogus, pseudo-faith
Bogus notions of divine durability, martyrdom, holy war, death sentence edict
All evolutionary suicide, like lukewarm indifferent giving the grave, 'the bird'
Some need to back up a long way to escape endless remorse, no need predict
Some that are physically afflicted, feel that their body has betrayed them
If incarcerated by culture of power-mad clerics, just know it's all dead
It is tempting to waste your precious energy throwing punches in the air
Dying well is the best revenge, metaphoric of course, to escape being lead
If a run-of-the-mill murderer, or just in any way sympathetic
For every death you will suffer the pain of death seven times
If you drag the concept of God into it, it is formulaic, seven times seventy
No mercy, and the eternally screwed will continue to celebrate their crimes
If the dead rule the military, media, money and mould the mind of your children
Maybe no choice but to go underground, maybe pray that they see the Light
Essential potential atrophied and died, chose assumption over contemplation
All false martyrs burn, cut your losses, can't live on the illusion of being right
If you try to pay and carry the weight, to find legitimate Being of your own
Thee Broader Present Moment can't crush the sincere, universe makes sense
Badges?, what badges?, don't need no stinking badges
Wall of a cup is border of The Unlimited, made to be breached, just a fence
The thirst for freedom of thought is a dynamic of the undertaking
Thus the opportunistic theo dead declare questioning contemplation, to be bad
Actively foster evolutionary degeneration, bitterness is praised as 'holy'
Must project the niggard mindset, friend or foe, peace is stuff of the mad
Progression; something, somebody, someone, this is the Only Way out
The wind goes where it goes, but only within the world of wind
Sentience sends the stakes through the roof and leaves the robotic behind
The biblical hurricane coming, it would be unnatural, not to have sinned
Many have physically perished, just not knowing that lead is poison
The theo tyrannical insist that all worship the bug kept up their butt
Like or not, fuzzy rats' nose, fuzzy rats' ass, just another set of extremes
The reality of incestuous damage, countered by the reality of the mutt

If the concept of the Split-Shift is nonsense, confident Omniscience knows
She got a monopoly on information and by default, is owner of The Truth
The search for pearls in manure, this really had better have been worth it
Thee Mysteries, understandably eclectic, and can safely afford not be aloof
There is absolutely nothing that any of you can possibly do to one another
That possibly compare with what The Machinery is going to do to all
Instinctive fear tends to keep one from walking in front of a moving train
If your head is screwed on straight, Hell need not fear, it is a survivable fall
The moon falls about the earth, the earth about the sun, the sun about the Way
Perplexing, perpetual, paradox, all in all, I would rather be in orbit
Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy engages in challenging creative pursuit
They live happily ever after and then die, rather participate, than just sit
Itemize your reasons to be, family, friends, career, sport, self righteous bitching
Had to look for reason to be, extra-terrestrial, create one from out of thin air
It turned out to be perceptions' counterpart 'other', viewed under Law
Can't complain about painful, dynamic Limited, did it all, so as to bear
Dictatorships, theo fantasy or communist, always land dead from the neck up
In any hierarchical construct, the higher you go, responsibility grow, greater risk
Beyond the Galactic, fewer and fewer Laws, but really, really, really big
In a hands on Universe, pointless to give orders, Milky Way is one of many disk
Cannot possibly dismiss the catharsis, but can try to actualize potential
The enemy is of your own household, in that you are tainted, and alone
There are psychological technicalities involved in any polarized society
It would have little to do with evolutionary consciousness, if you were a clone
Walking a road lined with hydro poles, sparks an ominous, painful memory
Someone once walked a Roman road that was lined with populated crosses
The Broader Present Moment, by definition, knows all about both of these era
It is amazing that a hydro pole can express such timeless, universal, ego losses
Engineering a bridge to cross to the practical purposes, on the other side
Might as well consider trying to create an aesthetically pleasing practical link
Hold on there bub, there is plenty time to walk around, the doing is the pay
Easily be destroyed for a much lesser illusion, Hell is full of many indolent dink
Motoring an endless, incessantly bifurcating, unuprighteous analogy freeway
Natural tendency towards one branch over the other, result, you circumnavigate
The awareness of counting must be mastered before any thought of choice
Circular is the perdition drain; doing zip, your chance potential, you incriminate

Once could walk, would climb in the bin and chew on lumps of yummy coal
An early taste for carbon, enigmatic instinctive precursor sign perhaps
An unfounded certainty saps the nutritional value out of evolutions' failures
Leaving such to The Ultimate Consumer, generates what The Universe craps
Food fight at the kiddies table, best cool it or The Mindless Machinery punish
You are hurtling into the Generic Meat-grinder of Planetary Reaping
If you want to sit with the adults you need to master a deep, attentive quiet
No healthy respect for Machinery, you're a major idiot, gluttonous for weeping
The madrossa is a Hell generating construct, for students and supporters both
Let the cleaver drop, or share in paying for all the damages downstream
Perpetual mechanical torture makes ' non-being' look more than a little good
If you despise the Intent of The Undertaking, you're whack, just a crime scene
You were warned and you listened not, a ' love of enemy ' appreciates Intent
Someone not obligated regard any, will bleed the arrogance out of The Limited
It is legitimate to suspect that ' someone' has done all this, done it all before
The past, like the future, and Here and Now are, after all, of The Unlimited
Observe those desperate to buttress stressed, transitory sensation of validity
Denouncing the 'other', the dynamic undertaking and Its’ Maker, what a mess
At best such will be destroyed forever, most likely worse, be forever pain pinned
All answer to spectrum's dead end, is of your own making, is your express
Can't possibly make the parallel reality too much clearer, the coins' flip side
The primary positivity of Real Life is the exhilaration of cyclic recall
Can't climb a mountain without slamming a few continents together
Would not know contentment if it bit me on the face, love is described as fall
Died on my feet, kept on walking, as good as nobody about me seemed notice
In this business, is an uncreated talent, definitely the sign of a real serious pro
Being a walking time bomb, many walking dead can't wait to see the back of ya
Some advantages to being alone in hell, doomed attachments die, not grow
Been through the rub a dub wringer, thank- diddali - ank - god goodness
The evaporating heat has everything to do with what Grace, can let see
How bizarre, the more rank persona encounter suffered, greater the opportunity
It is difficult watching those go a piece at a time, taking no delight is key
Living in an era where perdition and hell are openly, ravenously, feeding
Regarding finding timeless Being, if ya just don't care, ya just don't count
Abstract reality erodes the foundations of fleeting fantasy from deep within
The psychological implications of Block Center, the timelessly producing fount

Metanoia means an accepted revolving door, not a static item on a mantel
None, Working, are completely cured of the longing for a fixed finality
The concept of Satan being booted out of Heaven, does makes sense
Told to love within the Downstream Undertaking; 'no way', no sentimentality
It is not so much the existential that is tainted, as the software running
Nobody can morph, con volute and pervert perception quite like Him
The fourth corner of the square aperture, never taught everything He knows
There is cause, effect, and expense involved, in a tree growing a limb
Supporting ones’ own repression rule, is sometimes called Stockholm bonding
Off-loading beings' autonomous responsibilities can be subtlety attractive
In the long-run, leaving responsibility to another, no, it's just not on
None trying to tell you what to do, think, like, no reward just being reactive
Let's conduct internet pole, first regarding the ultra-mega-dead, theo fascist
Do you want to rot with the 'clerics' at the spectrum's rotten dead end?
Given the right to Study by sane secular law, could be called theo political
All else is just repression control, antithesis to Life, ascension is no friend
My dad, for some reason, used to say, "very clever these Chinese"
Do you want to share in paying for Tienanmen and Tibet, or is it gonna be no?
The universal law of mirror reversal is sending all communists to the gulag
No immortality in perpetuating the repression, no surprise, all reap what sow
North Americans, you are going to a place where there is only bling bling to eat
You got an idiot ' snowball in Vegas' chance, the way things presently are
Some are actually convinced that the bigger and smellier footprint, the better
Even if it could be afforded, the sane might think twice before buying a car
And you there, the famous Magician Prince, halt please, your hands up!
You're no prize, you just cope with the cage match containment, just durable
Surviving the inevitable collapse of The Limited, everyone got to pay for such
If that is all there is, there is certainly nothing that is remotely comparable
Sometimes, turf will begin to growing in a mat of its' own discard clippings
Separate from the nourishing topsoil altogether, will in the mat wither and die
Suggestion of salvation in obedience to concoction, taken on a life of its' own
Religion, bogus or not is preparatory catalyst, worst of homemade is biggest lie
The lukewarm indifferent don't like hearing that they are a boil-in-bag entree
Going from the top of the food chain to below bottom, indigestible to Life
Those assuming divine durability are exactly as adverse to the challenge
Those desperate to feel a player embrace the senseless, despise Thee Wife

Eventually, got to place your bet, buy a ticket and put your money down
If you bet it all and lose, you lose it all, plus punitive damages added
The damages are compounded by the number that you convince to follow hate
Reason has a limit, live in the past, die in the past with nothing ever padded
Physical parents gave as good as no ' religious instruction', thank God
Got a bible when seven years old, have not read it all, just ' winging it'
Not afraid to think, weigh the empiric, take a shot at writing something new
If one of you were 'system survived', such a one would be a ' walking writ'
An Arch-Tetradic could nine-iron this planet clean out of the Milky Way
And such of the four are timelessly downstream devolved from The Family Firm
Your sensation of left and right is the signature of the latest act of ' Intent'
If determined to try, outside chance you actualize essential potential germ
In a world where can buy anything, some ca not be allowed to handle money
A danger to themselves and others, responsible authorities are obliged to act
The closer the theo political get to their hell, the more livid they will grow
Those of conscience are vulnerable to those with none, Janjaweed attack
Thee Ship of State, Thee Ark, leaves transitory divisions in its' towering wake
The greater the recalcitrant attachment, the further the final apocalyptic fall
If thine eye be single, the Light of Life there in be, yuk, too sugar sweet
The Universe makes sense, always has and always will and this is ' last call'
There are two kinds of people, those that think there are two kinds of people
And those that are quasi-sane, those that have a hope, those that do not
Can not dumb down The Mysteries any further and still be saying anything
If you miss the Arks' sailing, remember Lots' wife, turn to street, beyond rot
Dead is dead, real life is work, there is no hell ' lite', only the real endless
There is no slick and shiny evil, no justifiable crime, just maybe, survive pay
No ' holy' contempt, no revolutionary butt-bug, no in-corrupt caliphate
Just you in the cosmological chain, and could drop dead, any place, any day
A nun in her convent, a monk in his monastery, really is a yes or no situation
Either can attain something, or really should be out drinkin an whorein
A rational, technical explanation of what is possible leap-frogs a quantum leap
What can last, what can't, can be seen, weighed, by a legit one observin
Happy is he that has a viable aperture of perception, happy is he that has none
But petulance and penury unto any moving from potential toward either
When The Mysteries close, the only place do this work, is wherever you are
Possible to build a trigger, muster awareness, psychological equivalent of lever

All masks are purged, ' you can pay me now, or you can pay me later '
Essential potential, indolent indifference, capital crime, ' use it or lose it '
Conscious labour, ' people don't appreciate what they don't pay for'
Current events, ' not some malevolent outsider that turned your world to shit'
Only takes one showing up in history twice to change the definition of reality
Nothing empiric, horsemen of the apocalypse, always lurking somewhere about
Planetary reaping is a psychological matter, edification means to build up
To suggest the outcome beyond a doubt, is to throw in the towel, assure a rout
Can spend a life-time trying to do what is expected by those around you
If taught to whine victim, but turn to live, teachers are bound to scream foul
If the world is inferior and owing you an apology, such is your view of God
It is difficult sacrificing ones' traditional, cultural, inherent, self-righteous scowl
Long been warned of the danger of new wine in those brittle old skins
Chance that they burst, tinkering with a condemned building is less than wise
Some machines that wanting repairs, wanting completely new main bearings
Baking leavened bread is a conscious act, basics, lubricant, atmosphere, rise
Behold the prickly porcupine, chewing upon my precious plywood store
Cares not about the price of building materials, likes the taste of the glue
Catastrophic damage, yet quite beyond reproach, no limited humans involved
Potential is betwixt extremes, can't do anything, lest decide to decide what do
For some, if there is not something wrong, there is definitely something wrong
The absence of something to screech about, is itself good reason to screech
Being thin-skinned is no crime if you keep it to yourself, turn pin-prick to nail
A tree booked for falling stores energy, really had best reconnoiter its' reach
It is strange taking rest in an endless, a volitional, escape from boredom
Perpetual cyclic competency exam, the aroma-therapy of bearing walking dead
What really bogarts their fat-boy, they know, somewhere down in the marrow
Nobody wants to bounce and burn, face the spectrum end, a future blood red
Could not change the Common Denominators and Machinery if wanted to
Would not if could, the systematic dynamic distillation does its' appointed work
Friction-loaded cacophony grind, verses the sterile senility of the static
The great unwashed are betwixt birth and death, is not some abstract quirk
Meeting like ships in the night, always painful, always only one know why
One breathes on, suffers deprivation, suffers the dark, but lives to figure it out
"It has always been this way, and will always be this way"
Can't claim to see it all, lest seeing tragic loss, remorse, contrition and doubt

If you set out to do something, whether successful in your attempt or not
To one degree or another, you take seriously the sensation of having will
The sensation is as transitory doomed as your labels and physical hide are
It is possible to see those in a comma, measure the fall, hear, meter the shrill
The non-negotiable inevitable, hell, someone be writing these current events
Arrested, right there behind your eyes, dried, bled, strangled, pick an analogy
Find you asleep, head pillowed on a railway track and give you a swift kick
First, going to jump up and thank me, next, mourn is no cotton-candy finality
Anxious to celebrate glorious gilded past, mourn its' loss, blame any but self
Protect precious particularity, like mother gorilla trying to nurse baby, days dead
Self inflicted isolation, squalor and ignorance blamed on evil outside world
Reared as thirsty vampires, cannon fodder, perverted revelation, poison lead
Inherent, inbred, ingrained, must look without and denounce an external enemy
Anywhere and everywhere, but where He actually live, where He actually be
Man-made clap-trap, for purposes of long ago conceived power-mad politics
Dress it up in piety all that you dare, suffering your error, eternally you will see
When the distillation subsides, if the yield is but a handful, it is what it is
No matter what, will start again, one thing sure that's pure smoke, it is time
Suggest that Will be with opinion or not, you got to be Alive, to be a player
Bogus assumption is a ravenous killer, fall like avalanche rock, or live to climb
All of the satanic-suicide may peak and then begin to subside, even to stop
It may accelerate until the entire culture is in hell, or sobering in rehab
The big shift came when humility was lumped with reason, Canonized as evil
Difficult to see what is bull-shit when it is underpinning, born in rickety prefab
Multiculturalism within quasi-sane, realistic, transparent, temporal, secular law
Not a bad place to try and Work, no book that felt wanted, that cannot get
Trying to help those ruled by the dead, is not a hopeless black hole task
Truth is subversive, misery demands company, takes the mind off growing debt
Largely pointless to try and measure the tragedy of egocentric, theo politics
No interest in seeking consciousness, indolent assumption that already there
Antithesis to impatient, volitional, cathartic, actualization of transmutation
Been offered Life having two ears, one nose, have chosen to not try to bear
You do not bargain, argue or negotiate with the Machinery of Planetary Reaping
You can ' litigate', in that, bearing is a matter of realistic Evolutionary Law
Law that you do not automatically know, and certainly do not create, oh no
Such is an Unlimited Past, don't know who made such Law, thorn in every paw

It is possible to change the past by just letting all the spun nonsense drown
Grand-papa is never going to get out Hell if you perpetuate the satanic fantasy
Enemy be of your own household, honouring parents, need not follow to Hell
Once deciding God will reward murder, lying to yourself and sundry is easy
Common sight, those convinced that ' life' be found defending bogus assumption
Animation principle behind the argument is thee parasite, and what must die
If denied independent thought, you're already in Hell, just don't fully feel it, yet
Denounced as infidelity by those with the most to gain by perpetuating the lie
Medicating concocted legitimacy, walking dead will cling to sedative of tradition
Calling what is nonsense holy, what is holy, evil, what is evil, life
Cover-up of little green men, masses must not feel as generic earthlings
Little green men would have left and right, concepts of child, husband, wife
There is, of course, what you see to be as yourself, surely some invention
There is the mask you would like or assume that others see of you
There is the electroplated persona others actually ingest in your presence
And what The Dynamic Undertaking found, now that It has begun to chew
From evolutions point of view, what do you want, and how badly is it wanted?
Transitory 'will', at best is pursuit, another larger Will awaits in the wings
Could suffer a multiple of sojourn, fail to master sitting still, fail to actualize
If you entertain bogus assumption, maybe no end to the arrows and slings
Convenient crony, he enemy of your enemy must be considered a friend?
Thee Enemy, has you condemn without, rather than prudently probe within
The Limited sifts and sorts, painful practicalities and staged challenge of duty
Hold your breath waiting for an apology in the mail, lunar dead-letter bin
Apocalyptic tragedy, measurable degree of devastating, reversal, disappointment
The entire modern concept of martyrdom is purest satanic nonsense
Invention, are you prepared to surrender all chance in sympathy for this?
Metanoia means turning to face cultural concoction is doomed, or repentance
Let us discuss the end of the occupation, of Constantinople that is
How about Texas, the Arctic, the Moon, mainland China, let alone Tibet
Is there some point in linear time when all such touchy matters are settled?
Bogus religion dismisses Reason, like some inferior, less than perfect sunset
In Thee Abstract, where there are just the two left, what's common is big news
Neither are especially stoic when in pain, but essentially drop dead durable yet
Potential can only attain presence if facing that it is not owed, and is no prize
A slow squandering of ones’ inheritance more painful than losing it all in one bet

Trashing Utopia 2015

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Trashing Utopia 2015