He awoke with a start thrust back from the pseudo nightmare into the dark room. His bedroom. The thought police were at it again! The back of his neck felt like a dry piece of discarded shark cartilage. His head pounded and the rest of him was cold with the recent evaporation of thin layer of sweat. They would have to do better than this! The Frankenstein scenario starring a rubbery version of his late father did not have an authentic ring to it. There was no rhyme or reason to his giving compliance to a scenario where his own late father would have come back from the dead twice in a row to stride angrily about from the closet to bed post menacing him with malice in its eyes. There had been too many impromptu replays of various cardboard character animations and bad actors in latex rubber gear loosely posing as entertainment over the years. The comparison of current CG to same from past decades was not even worth any mental assay. They had taken away his job that day. Whatever informal back door initiative that had been enacted considering the way things now worked in this Orwellian age of incessant drone surveillance thick with Internet EMF, it was all too obvious that this was another feint to demoralize? He could still taste the aerosol within the apartment’s atmosphere wafting throughout his tiny dwelling. Some form of psychotropic spray that had a weak masking aroma suggesting a cheap variety of cigarette fumes acting as a cover. It was anybodies guess in terms of where exactly it might have been injected into his living space? Paranoia wasn’t really his thing. But the recent attempts to officially truncate sections of the dwindling free web now labeled as dark had provided a plethora of information in that regard. His own feeble contribution as a doubter of the official story line of the many re-tailored general history rewrites by NGO’s had been taken note of. Though, from experiences like the one demonstrated from this current evening, were less than efficient. The program of nocturnal signal to skull terror was still not fully developed being plucked to readily from its prototype stages. The general public outcry against the incessant mischief enacted by the reigning Globalist cartel having pushed it into rapid implementation. The final result as he had mentioned was more comic rather than psychologically stultifying.
No doubt, the world had changed! Gone was the fiction of ongoing indefinite commercial driven consumer security. He as well as too many others were too accustomed to the superficialities of these endlessly recycling cliches. Stratagems too often employed to allow one fall prey so easily into their ploys. The only remaining mystery seeming to be incongruous as to why they dallied with him at all? A simple discreet early morning visit employing a little brute force along with the right chemical compound and death by apparent heart attack would go unquestioned. No that was not their way of doing business of course. Like some old once fearsome alley cat now found nearly toothless, they preferred to play with their prey before finally crushing its skull within their jaws. This mentality of petty depravity so characteristically apparent in each and every one of this group’s staged affairs that they all resembled some poorly staged form of vaudeville harping upon past scenarios as marked more by tiresome repetition rather than any valid attempt to universally deceive. The mark left by same no doubt exposing unstable mentalities too vainglorious and self-congradulating to realize that all this falderal only made it easier to detect their usual pattern of lethal mischief. The shopworn scenario of lone gunman assassin perpetrating school shooting as nationally publicized by the embedded yellow dog press too blatantly obvious as yet another deep state mercenary hit squad plying their trade routinely assisted by local law enforcement assets. Some of the same regional players having an ongoing record of playing the same old key roles in directing similar incidents over recent years. The attempt at traumatizing the general population into surrendering their weapons as well as their fates to these ruffians failing miserably. The decades spent in de-evolulving community spirit by the application of mind numbing mass media like television and major motion pictures falling far short of deterring the current popular ire at being ceaselessly manipulated. The universal yoke of the current worldwide Ponzi scheme infernally sucking all wealth from the local economies through progressionally mounting compound interest as administered in the return of worthless fiat currency for one’s labors was coming to a close. The scrupulously decentralized world marketplace that had been put into place over the last decades was now shown up for the ruse that it was. A vain mean spirited attempt to disable all cultures from their former independence and identities by the ever power hungry bank driven octopus. Its juggernaut interrupted for too long by the free flow of unauthorized damning information into the reservoir of the general public consciousness. Something that had been so grievous that no one seemed surprised anymore by the implementation of the usual bag of these lethal tricks. Their world pyramid was beginning to crumble!
What would have been like to be in the arms of someone who loved you. Again? What! As if it had ever happened? Old memories buried in each other on a pile. A pyre. Locked in place and no longer available. But you’re here. Still? Aren’t ya! That’s it. Walking around like a ghost without a clue of what brought you to this haunt. What kind of love is that. Smelling the stains. Laying on an old broken down mattress. Pretending that you know something. Like something, someone knows you. Who is kidding who. Who has? Yourself. A thought after thought after thought after thought. Echo. Two mirrors! Someone’s truth lies between. Is it you. Your’s? You want her talk. Talk, talk, talk. You wanted them all to talk. Safe to talk. They did! Then they did! And it was all about something. Anything!Nothing. But not you! You couldn’t understand that. Not you. That you didn’t enter into the equation. You never did. Never! You were a ghost. A ghost of a dream. A ghost in a dream! Your dream. Never! Never, never, never. Neverland. You were a child tucked into pajamas. Not a man. No! Never. Sucking your thumb. Sucking their tits. Sucking and fucking. Fuck off! You might have felt their passing fury. Felt a tremble through their body. That tremble. Trembling? For a moment. For an instant? Never. But you were not available. Never were. That was you sin. The sin of self. You alone. The key that wouldn’t open any door. You were locked out. Out in the cold. Cold. Dead cold. Like dead. And so why? Why ask the questions. “Where’s my money?” Why ask. Why! You know the answer. Don’t you? You do! Now. Now is not the time. The time. No longer the time to ask.
This private ongoing conversation with you. You, whoever you are. You my friend. You my enemy. You, and just you! The mental fiction of the whole wide world beyond these words. This endless stream of myself that I send skyward in the fiction of my heart transcendent. Some form of wishful immortality to be heard at last. To call out and know that all this lonely struggle was not simply for not. To you who I will never know. Assuming much along the way that such a thing could be possible. There is no strident sound breaching my reality of some sharp tapping upon a water pipe in the dark of night! As if I were in a tiny prison cell. And this same prison being the world outside that cell of me as myself. I would like to believe that all the world is mine. But I unfortunately am of it. Something I will not see! But you are beyond all this! In storied castles or dark mud huts. Anywhere and everywhere. Waiting in the realm of my own fantasies to hear how I explain you in some small part from the tiny pieces of myself. Old rags from the previous day’s washing hanging out to dry on this ethereal clothesline. Who am I kidding?
To you my best confident! That I am never in danger of knowing. Of ever saying, “no!” But just staying there perfectly silent as I find new ways to speak my truth. Yet never to offend.”Impossible!“, you may say? But then my lips are your words. Vainglorious notions that all these well-worn symbols of currently imposed colonial patois splatter forth. That will serve as fit language and will penetrate. How selfish I’ve become? How pathetic this symbolic death of verbal commerce evident within my own land? That my own kind and I are so wrapped up fatally within ourselves? That we fear the weight of so many others just like ourselves that might steal the very oxygen from out of our breath. What fools! And yet this nagging fatal impulse to cast loose my shell and fly forth into places unknown. Unknowable! To conjure and to fly off further still. You and I, we form this very flock of restless birds as tireless as the Sun. Daily put upon to rise and fall and then rise again. To renew ourselves by these hopes, however impossible and flawed. To reach out and hope that hope that there is truly someone else there that understands.
The proud parent thinking that they had done the right thing taking their child to the amusement park asked, “Well! How was it?” The little boy stared back quizzically and replied, “I’ll tell you when I finally get back from the very last one.” And who of any of us can say that we have ever gotten off that merry-go-round since? Or indeed have wanted to? Even if it finally kills everything about us that may have been decent in the end? We spend the night in fear of our own cowardice to act in our own behalf. Leaders and perpetrators may be one and the same but the real party at fault is ourselves for going along. Is the life of a fantasy soaked slave so sweet that he cannot risk breaking his chains? What is so magnificent about carrying the very weapon of your enemy about in your hand and then taking it’s cancerous emanations into your head? Who told you that you could not wash your own clothing by hand in a washtub? Who told you that you had to allow yourself to be injected with the same poison that is spread by the same institutions that wish to eliminate you? Why must your take a necktie as anything beyond what it is intended to symbolize beyond a noose that you eventually hang yourself with? The populations of the major cities are simply self deluded fools that think that their lifetimes are simply about being owned like spoiled pets. Fulfilling a false illusion of individuality while in fact they are merely rearranged cogs glued into place on phantom wheels designed to grind them into their own slow inevitable destruction. The plans of which having been planted through careful drama’s endless repetition written by those very enemies that have lived amidst them for generations as parasites. The existence that your persist in perpetuating is your own folly and no one else’s. You let ‘evil‘ rule existence, that less than ironic polar opposite of ‘live‘, and then wait around humbly, like empty headed sheep, for the consequences to catch up to you. The only sure thing in this equation being your own assured end on someone else’s terms.
How to meet your end. Do you hold out your hand like a hobo? Thumb out in the relative direction of travel that you wish to go? To new places where no one knows you. And those few that do only will find you again in a passing sigh at the discovery of your obituary. Is this mortality? Are we all so timid that we cannot risk the road and the reality of life beyond the waiting chaos of another day? Who are the zombies now? Those who would brave the wilderness living ont he edge? Or the rest of use who are terrified at the prospect of no one any longer saying, “Hello?” Can you say goodbye to an entire existence of your own few endless decades? Who is the captain now? To give up the power of the illusion of certain destiny in a bus ticket. To be willing to be left in the middle of nowhere and not survive. In the final chapter that you yourself have not read but can only write. The one that you suddenly realize in shock is that last instant. Who is the fool then? Who is the fool now? Maybe we are all fools to think otherwise?
This universe feasts on questions. The emptiness of chaos ever eternally hungry and needing to be filled. All the temples of the world that sanction safety mere dust on your divan. The gold melted down. The metals gone to rust. Smiling corpses of fractured marble and granite. Nothing survives! Yet life persists? We all dream on at the foot of an awakening volcano. The approach of warm covers in hot magma.Stay to still and the birds will peck your eyes out. You will wear down to the ankles. Yet inside you will be alive. Fatally entombed within the withering self. Needing to be free of the past that weighs you down. Those unkind stares that convey short tempers and a basic irritation that people like you are still alive. Short fuses and big lawns. They all want their fantasies free of you. So how do you survive? Commit suicide by just walking out the door without ever stopping to look back? Ride the rails until one day your head lays squashed upon it? So many questions that cannot be answered except through inevitable actions. So get going and find out!
Why my world and worldview was ripped away from me. Here I sit mentally fit and physically reasonable. Waiting. Waiting for an opportunity. Any opportunity. Something that will never come again. Why? Because my generation who foolishly set the trend to Liberal mentalities were a bunch of fools. We were easily taken in by the notion of Utopia that was slathered upon us by those professional deceives in Hollywood, publishing and the counterfeit coinage of that segment that calls itself the ‘news’ media. Now I sit idle contemplating my imminent demise like some character in Orwell’s, Paradise Cafe. Feverishly monitoring the screen as if I was looking out the window at the planetary geo-engineered weather wondering when if ever I will see the sky and perhaps the stars ever again. Oh yes! My own eyes still experience what goes on around me, or does not. You see I have developed a long memory. Actively worked upon it in these times of unexpected prolonged unwanted leisure. The world as it once was now something that the current stack of techno-babies cannot imagine or possibly confront. They only know faux visual universes that ape insignificant semiotic post-Modernism.s that give an artificial flavor of worlds past. More in the way that prospective worlds of a tainted future all resemble the Socialistic plans for present tense co-opting. The destructive fantasy of equality by complete normalization on the model of the mechanically foolproof doctrine of the Corporate Globalist management of the entire planet. One where human life is an anachronism that must be stamped out from universal molds to offer perfect cogs. Ones deprogrammed of any uniqueness and ready to surrender all individual leanings in return for the occasional prize of some robot fulfilled animal desires. Semen and ovum for the uterus of one’s closed fist and not for the promulgation of an independent family. Mass routine inoculations to limit lifespan and vitality to the absolute baseline minimum or use as a bio-weapon to quell any unforeseen revolt. A core obsession to displace and dispel all Elvira Madigan’s format he planet. Bitter daily pills filled with arsenic. Life as perpetual suicide where each day begins and ends with a wish to finally get it over with and die.
No, I did not imagine this sort of world possible way back when I refused to follow my own father’s lead. Or take his hard won sage advise. Now the current generations are not even guaranteed the possibility of committing that mistake. That vague steel wool superstructure of state supported constant social justice harangue wears down all propositions that were once taken as solid foundations of sanity and successful life. Things like living a childhood exclusively within a home with two parents there to actively raise them. Instead of the modern conventions of constantly being farmed out to nurseries and day care and after school behavior medication by electronic screens. Live constantly with the faux apprehension that the easily available Internet cornucopia of phone accessible factoids does not comprise wisdom. Routinely surrender themselves in the blink of an eye to social media gossip that cannot validate its claims beyond an unconscious sense of perceptual awareness that it must come ultimately from an anonymous overbearing despotic power group in control of that same means of diffusion. The motivation by way of an unspoken fear that they too may be quickly marginalized if they do not go along with the central planning’s latest whim. Mass suicide of the the self by the continued consensus of silence supporting an increasing conformity by total inaction. “Do what you are told!” and squawk about it in private. Blame, blame,blame! But never act in your own behalf by supporting your own family identity against the latest shifting viewpoints. Take on the portmanteau of guilt without question or rage against those who would saddle you with it. Just sink back and surrender. Some form of ongoing unstoppable festering waking nightmare that easily de-trains any of my own unconscious nocturnal leanings no matter how vile or mad or insane they might be. The dreams of former conventionality as once imagined now a future fully and finally erased. “All hail the eternal guinea pig!” Chasing the world upon a screen while they remain perpetually immobile. This are the seeds of the Utopia’s sold to my generation by the evil corporate few come to flourish. I sit here and sip my coffee in the meantime. Looking out over the perpetual gray landscape of civilized futility an no longer dare to dream. Only being able to support just so many nightmares?
They say that a baby, any baby is innocent when it is born. I suppose this statement is beyond all the ‘mumbo jumbo‘ of past lives and continuation of existences. It is only when the personal programming format he family and the society begins to take hold that we all go running like swarms of ants from a magnifying lens. Group identity is a matter of choice. This is true despite location or adolescent fantasies reflected. A dynamic just as indecipherable as the mystery of the lanes where the soul travels to and from work in taking on the mortal habit of humanity. The labels that overshadow being the creation of groups of men and women caught up in the context of same by volition. To cast one’s eyes upon them is to take in their collective actions yet it cannot often ascribe any single overriding influence explaining the dogmas that its member’s fall into. The “Japanese” or “Japs” as they were once referred to three-quarters of a century past was a club by virtue of similar resemblance. Though not by all of those that were forced by mortality to wear that particular ‘overcoat throughout’ life. Books with the appropriate dust jacket caught up within a group but still ascribing to a more universal ethic not necessarily constituent of the official projected consistency of thought and action. The error of these ways being that inferred group think. Generalization as a surrender to the edicts of small highly demonstrative elites acting as cabals issuing directives that the rest of the membership goes along with. Collective guilt not really so much primarily by association but passively by default.
That famous statement of recent times being, “You are either with us or you are part of the enemy.” This mechanization of behavior being made acceptable on the count of the possibility or reward and the imposition of fear. The mind of the individual being the culprit in the craggy clipped rock climbs of moral dilemmas. Religion and individual religious practice being the saving grace and car port to park ones sense of duty, common sense and moral responsibility. To go along mindlessly provides no fit excuse for abandoning the same. So often carried along into foreign territory ignorant of the final outcome of one’s own tacit participation performed in perfect silence. Though ignorance of it may at times directly challenge one’s ability to survive. That constant thin veil of self-deception being the daily battleground where one must struggle with the right and the wrong of their own actions as weighed against the need for growth and basic survival. There are no truly fit road maps from the past to guide one within the minefields set int he present. Humans might be analogized as they once were of old as riders upon horses. But there is responsibility for one’s actions after they have been committed from thought. The problem of highly organized technologically based societies being that the rider is being constantly invoked to carry his horse around on his back instead of the other way around. One can only hope to transcend from the identities they are saddled with to a universal sense of mercy and forgiveness for just being what they are. Perhaps divine? But ultimately, Human.