and there are parts of the play unwritten. there are parts of the play that cannot and will not be written. these one will have to discover for oneself.
    the play is in shambles. it is found in the ashes of the burning theater. of course the burning theater is no more. it never was. at least no more and never was in terms relative to the limits of human rationality and reason most confine their experience within.
    the burning theater has been bulldozed into a landfill to make room for the brave new world of peace and prosperity. a foundation of thick concrete beneath a building for the most good for the most number at the lowest cost. the high fragile towers that cannot stand anywhere else but on this burial ground of wild human thought and emotion. all the gods who once spoke to us are now dead. we are the last of them anyone will see.
    but this is not yet. this is now yet to come though perhaps not by the time anyone reads this if anyone does.

    what does anyone do except look to the others for guidance as to how to act and behave? do they see a way out? do they have any hope for their survival independent of the group, of what the group will allow in relation to its own existence? which future will they follow? the path of the individual or the path of the group? what will be their inspiration?
    which stories are true? are they the stories others tell one of themselves that are meant as examples of how one should mold oneself? are they the stories one tells oneself that have no external evidence or reality other than one's own experience?
    what does one experience?

    to one who is oneself. how much it is forbidden by the others that we should meet. how much do they know that if we ever did their world would be swept away with a wave of our hand. they have drawn a curtain across reality such that they can make us see what they give us to see as being real instead. and they have made us ashamed of one another. they have made our knowledge of ourselves a sin we are born with. and, yes, we are born with it. this sin of challenging in our hearts and in our minds and in our whole soul the reality of their world and all that supports that reality. this is because we are born into this world from another. a world of our own where we are not separated and apart but are many as one. a world we have not forgotten though they have made every attempt to seduce us to forget. but their power is limited to within the parameters of this false world they have manufactured out of nothing but their ability to create deceptive illusions. once one focuses one's vision past that illusion their power disappears. and they know this. they deny it. they offer the proof of their science to prove it. it is dada. and we are to serve them. it is a lie. a lie that has become a myth. a myth that has become truth.
    or they will attempt to bring one into their fold and offer one a share in their power they have stolen from us. many succumb to this lie as well.
    we are above them but not as they hold themselves above others with deception and lies. we are above them in that we are free from them. we are free of any and all relationship with them. for they will attach themselves to us any way they can. they are nothing in and of themselves. in the long run the only ones they fool are themselves. they are the ones who are stuck living in their world, not us.
    we write this knowing that it need not be written. it will not be understood by anyone other than one of us. one who is oneself. the others will dismiss it as worthless nonsense. and for those it is written for already understand and do not need to be told. we are only writing to let one know that we are here and now though one may never know us. we are not divided but we may never be together. we do not need to be. what is communicated here cannot be communicated to any other than oneself. one knows this. we know one knows this. what is needed to be communicated but the mutual knowing of it? and that mutual knowing of it is communicated by the mutual knowing of it not by anything communicated about it. this is understood between us beyond and despite all means of communication we may use - especially words which are near useless.
    their world has been devised on a false idea that we are divided and can be kept apart and that we do not exist within this mutual knowing and understanding of it. what can be communicated if it were that we were so divided? how do they communicate with each other as they perceive themselves so divided? nothing. never. pity them in their isolation that even coming together in groups cannot overcome. pity them for a moment or two and then forget them. they are not real like we are real. they are part of their own deception and illusion they create.
    we are blessed. we are the divine. realize that for a moment or two and do not forget it. but how can it be forgotten once it is realized? how can the fire ignited from that spark ever be put out? how can the wonder and joy of it ever be ignored? we do not know. but we witness this in them. we see them turn their faces from it and walk away in another direction into the cold and dark of annihilation and oblivion. we have tried to call them back. we have stood before them and tried to block their way. they pushed us aside. we watch as they disappear. we remained and felt the greatest despair for them. the agony of imagining what their lives must be like to exist in a world where all is in darkness of mind and soul. this drove us near to madness. madness that almost caused us to fall in with them. do they not know? can they not tell just from experience what is and what is not? but they have rationally divided everything apart and themselves apart from it. and they exist in this illusionary world they have created. why do they continue when it causes them such pain and suffering?
    we remain here and now. one remains with oneself. we have been since the beginning that did not begin. we will be until the ending that does not end. and all cosmic mystical trash like that. we know that is not what it is but these words do not.
    their world is only partly of what is real as it is divided from the rest as we walk through it all realized and imagined. we understand this as they do not. we need to deal with their frustration arising from their ignorance and their confusion with the world and themselves. to be in the whole world as they are not. to walk through their walls they run head on into. they become ugly and deformed. they wish everyone of us to be ugly and deformed. they are jealous of those who are not. they seek to destroy us by any means possible. this is why we must remain hidden from them. we must disguise ourselves among them. we must remain quiet to ourselves. even writing this is taking a chance. but they will not notice. they believe we are mad.
    there seems to be no way of explaining to them who we are. they do not understand. they are so used to fear and hatred that it is the only thing they recognize in another. they refuse to understand anything else at least as far as we have observed. they have created an image of us as being terrible monsters. we cannot confront them without triggering their fear and anger. it's frustrating because they should be able to get it. there is nothing fundamentally different from them than us. but they will never believe that. to them we are mad.
    they are caught up in good/evil dualism - on both sides of it. this is the dominant belief system of their world based on division with one thing good and the other thing must be evil. there is no compromise with them. they will never get themselves together. they will continue to fight and war with one another forever. it is their nature.
    hmmm...
    why are we bothering with this? we just want to go home. being here with these idiots sucks. trying to relate to them in any way is pointless. their world is pointless. we vote to allow them to destroy it and themselves. if one were here one would understand this. perhaps one is. we do not know.
    they are blind or blinded themselves to anything other than the most simple limited material and sensory and physical experience of the world and reality. they believe that is all there is. and when one tries to explain anything other than that to them they call one a dreamer. how can they deny the obvious? how can they not imagine much more than they do? to them everything else is delusion. it is nonsense and they will not listen to it. are we that much different than them? we do not believe that we are. we are human. they are human. our experience should be the same but apparently it is not.
    and we do not know. what we tell them is true. it is true for us and we see no reason why it should not be true for them unless there is some fundamental difference between us and our experience. and we can offer no proof that what we tell them is not delusion as they think it is. it cannot be proven unless one experiences it. so to waste further words on them is foolish and pointless. we have told them enough that if they were going to get it they would have gotten it by now. they do not. they seem to perceive only the finite. they seem not to be able to imagine anything more. what they do imagine seems to deal with only the material physical world.
    this was our mission and we have failed as others have failed before us. perhaps one knows this. they do not comprehend. they seem to refuse to comprehend. so be it. they exist shattered from us and themselves. there seems to be no way of putting them back together again. so it only seems that we can only separate ourselves from them and their constant pain and suffering they inflict upon themselves and each other and anyone who comes close to them. we have been tricked into playing the villain and scapegoat enough. we refuse to be the ones that they blame. what are we to do? we will not allow their pain to become our pain. we have our own pain. they have trapped themselves in this world. let them find their own way out. we are not their saviors. if so then are we not to be brought to a throne instead of a cross? let them kneel before us. we will pick up the sword and off with their heads. we will shout and they will tremble. is this what they want? is this the only way out for them? is this the only option they have allowed themselves? what is the point to that? let them destroy themselves if that is their intention. or let them save themselves if that is their desire.
    this is what insanity reigns here. this is what madness fills one's mind when one is exposed to them and their frustration and anger and hatred they radiate everywhere. what will change it? what will change them? are they happy with their ignorance? are they happy struggling with their pain? would they even know if they were happy or not?

    later -
    it's been a few days. he has been talking with a few people who come to him who he feels are quite close to it if not already there. there are those who do not despise him or fear him like the others. he is one to himself. they seem to recognize this. they are one to themselves as well. it is good to know there are some in this world. otherwise he would be alone by himself. the one who is within shines through. it attracts others of similar kind. they know as they know themselves. we know as we know ourselves. there is no division except on the material physical plane and what does that matter? how would the play go on if we were not all actors? sometimes he forgets this. sometimes he sinks into the pain. but we are there to pull him out again. the important thing is not to become divided from oneself as these others have become from themselves. this world carries a disease. a disease of division. it has infected them. why it has not infected us we do not know. all we know is that it hasn't. we are still one to ourselves. we carry that with us everywhere. it is our constant companion. for them the more divided they can make it the better it seems to them. we do not understand this. no one reaches and touches another. they will gather and talk with one another. they will work together. they will even embrace and tell each other how much the other means to them. they will speak of love and act out love. they will fuck one another. but still through all of this they remain eternally divided and apart. that to them is reality.
    and we live in their world. yet we are not a part of their world. we not a part of anything except ourselves. and we are one to ourselves. we do not need to touch in order to touch. we are already together. to touch implies the existence of two separate things or beings. we are not that. but this language they have developed cannot describe what we are. it becomes confused with itself. it becomes so much nonsense. dada.
    he lights another cigarette.
    he wonders about what's the deal with any of this. he wonders about what's the deal with anything. we watch him, our host, as he sits in the cafe all day long most of the time. what do we feel for him? what can be felt for him? he is no one and everyone being no one. who is anyone? we look out at them and see these poor lonely creatures trying to make some sort of connection with one another. we know what it's like. we experience it through him. it is sad, even at the height of its greatest happiness. we wonder if this is what needs to be how it is. and, if so, why?
    what did we do? how did we come apart this way that led some of us to this ultimate apartness? what was it that came between us that made them choose this path of forked paths? did they choose it? we do not remember. though we can understand how it happened we don't understand the reason for the motive. why strive to attain and experience total isolation? or was it that? perhaps they were striving for something else and somewhere out of ignorance lost their direction. this could not have been their goal. but did they have a goal? or did they just throw themselves out onto the wind and the tides to see what would happen and what it would be like? and they took the chance that there would not be any getting back and that that is what they are now coming to realize that nothing awaits them but annihilation and oblivion. they accept it as fact. it seems to be a fact. we are never apart from one another, but he is. he does not know us as we know ourselves. he has a dim awareness that something is missing but he does not know what it is. he sought it in others as others sought it in him and each other. but no one had it in themselves to transfer it to another. he has us. he is aware of us but is not a part of us. we tried to show him how to become a part of us but he was afraid of losing himself. and we suppose that from his perspective that would seem to be what happens. but why did that make him afraid? why did the sense of losing himself - this pathetic lonely creature utterly divided from the spirit/soul of being - cause him fear? that we will never understand but seems to be the case with all of them. and this fear causes him great agony and pain. but he still will not let go of it.
    he lights another cigarette.

    little potato people.
    low caliber do nothings arise from a sleep of dreams. a flag is unfurled that rises out of all flags unfurled. long may it wave. long may it rule the sky over the earth going round and round each other. zippy pinheads conscious of one another anywhere at any time. hooray! have they found one another? have they gained or lost ground in this garden? we've been kicked out of better places than this. the one of many. a heart. a mind. an experience. a remembering of both. an existing as both at once - the best together with the worst to create their own heaven/hell thing as they will. can't have one without the other and everyone cannot fit into both at the same time without dividing the two or more into separate experiences with their own view of what that common experience is.

    he is here in this world divided against itself between good and evil. people divided between us and them. a world at war on all levels from the personal to the international. this is the world they perceive. this is the world they create. what is he to do? they complain about how miserable their lives are yet when it is shown the way way out of it they refuse to take it. they will not give up their endless useless struggle. they hold onto their pain. it is the only experience that they have that is real. as bad as it is they will not let go of it if there seems to be nothing to replace it with.
    this is the problem we have had with him for a long time. it still exists. he still hasn't seen enough. he still refuses to believe that there is no hope for resolving any of the conflict their world creates by their refusal to look for and acknowledge their common ground rather than their differences based on one detail about themselves or another.

    he has seen the blood.
    he has seen the stars and the moon.
    the sirens wail.
    we're on the rocks.
    welcome to this new age
    welcome to this brave new world.
    welcome one and all. everyone's liberation is at hand. one is free to take the risks and face the dangers we have wrongfully felt we needed to protect one from. the houses on the hill are given over as are the towers and the walls. the smoke filled back rooms are unlocked and opened. take all of this. take all that we give to everyone. come sit upon the thrones of all the nations of the world. we are leaving them behind. all we ask is do not follow us. let us go where we are going. let us have our own freedom. the freedom not to rule over others and make laws for them and to enforce them. the freedom not to make plans and keep everyone organized and maintain order. the freedom not to seek vengeance for past wrongs. the freedom not to need power. give us this and we will go in peace. do not force this upon us again or we will fight one to the death.
    the houses are everyone's. stay in them and rule them as one will. we will leave one be. but the streets we are cast out upon will be ours. the night is ours. we are not afraid of either. trespass here and what happens is what happens. there is no sympathy. go home. keep it well disciplined and tidy. keep everything in order as one will. but do not bring that to us. we do not want it or need it. let us be who we are. we don't care anymore. don't follow us around and try to correct us to one's mode of thinking. fuck off. go away.
    they've driven us out of the houses we supposedly use to share - though now it is quite clear to us who was in charge of things this whole time. we've returned to our place. we've gone home. the streets. the wilderness wherever it can be found. fuck their civilizations they seduced us into building for them. they can build and defend them themselves. we will not hire our selves out to serve in their armies no more. we have our own territory to defend that is under attack. and no more deals. no more negotiations. we want to follow our own ways they have no use for. this is our final stand. there is no place else for us to go. we either successfully resist them here or we become extinct. that is the only choice they have left us.

    this or that or the other thing.
    the it thing - the thing which is it. over and under the edge which is everywhere at all times.
    so what?
    so, nothing. nevermind. ignore it and it will go away. forget it. we weren't writing about anything - that we'll admit to anyway.
    the thing itself. the thing that is not thing but itself is not thing.
    thing and not thing were sitting on a fence...
    and all are it.
    unless they are not it either separately or in any combination. one, two or more attempting not to be not it but unable to avoid at least one not to be not it.
    and this is where we lose everyone.

    all that he is and is not. he bows down before it. it is more clearly seen to him than himself. his heart reaches beyond his mind for it and his mind understands. his mind knows only of this world and its people. there is nothing known to his mind that attracts his heart. his mind - the machine of the machine.
    his mind knows nothing beyond itself but its own death. it protects itself against death though his heart will dive into death if that leads to what his heart seeks. his heart has come to it. to have found and to have been found. fuse and flow into it. a dance of wild grace. and to be abandoned. to be called vain and useless.
    this is what his heart will drive him to his death to realize out of its imagination. his mind makes it real to preserve itself. and he experiences it all as it has happened and as it is happening and as it will happen. or he experiences nothing. there is nothing to compare with this. this is the experience of all experiences. all remember except those who choose to forget and not experience. he may be the only one who is not one of those.
    he lives in a city alone. all the others have gone. he lives in a city of peace. he lives in a house alone. alone he walks in the garden. alone he sits beneath a tree. alone he is in the forest on the island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea. and la-dee-da.
    he goes to the beach to see if any have returned.
    no one ever comes.

    to experience.
    to unfolding drama and suspense.
    each of us fully aware.
    beings being beings being.
    fucking itself up the yin/yang and rotating itself on itself. dizzy into gray blurred revelation.
    whoosh!
    zap!
    zero to zero in infinity. from nothing to nothing with everything in-between. we'll take everything. the rest can have nothing.

    to write about this or to write about that or to write about the other thing. to write about anything beyond oneself. in none of these ways can he write about it.
    it is the fire that burns in the heart of everyone.
    it is the fire that burns in the heart of everything.
    he sees it. he feels it burning. he thinks of it burning. he experiences it burning.
    he sees it seeing me, myself and i. he is naked before it. he needs nor wants nothing before it. there is no space or time where or when he is not before it.
    and he sees others turn away from this fire and seek the comfort of darkness. they cannot stand naked in its presence. they cannot stand alone. they need and want everything. there is all space and all time dividing them from it
    he cannot judge others. he can only feel grateful that he is not one of them. is that judgment? so be it. he watches them go their own ways. he watches as they get up and leave this place and time here and now where and when it and him are. he can only wish them good luck. he does not know what it is they seek. this was how it was when he sought it. he did not know what it was that pulled at his heart. his mind couldn't fathom his heart's discontent. now he knows. now he knows what was missing. to be at peace with it. to no longer be divided as they are divided from it and themselves.
    division that can only create further division. division dividing itself into oblivion. oh boy! let's go! that's certainly the direction one wants to take. to progressively annihilate oneself. to rid oneself of oneself.
    the parting of the ways. that which divides dividing itself from that which remains in union with itself diving headlong into oblivion. gnashing teeth. that which remains sighs and steps away from the edge and returns to the garden. apart from those who have parted themselves into warring camps of opposites while one is dancing in-between all sides through the crossfire.
    it is being without either/or yet containing all either/or.
    spin the wheel.
    all parts of it struggling to be it and out of that struggling it is created. it creates itself by pitting these parts of itself against one another. it sits back and watches the fireworks that result from itself attempting to annihilate itself and through that process of annihilation it creates itself always anew and in an infinite unpredictable series of variations on the theme quite beyond the wildest imagination of itself on its own.
    without this it would be nothing and nothing is ultimately boring. like anything else it seeks excitement and stimulation - amusement. and it is amused by that part of itself that wishes to return to that original state of nothingness - oblivion. those who feel that holds the key to the secrets of mystery. back into that absolute hum drum flatline mediocrity that goes in every direction and no direction everywhere and nowhere without even the remote possibility of one minute spark of a particle of it ever being the slightest bit different. it is out of that oblivion that it created itself. that is what is it. only it. it only.
    it willed itself to exist.
    get out of the way.
    it or not it.
    both are it.
    it refuses to choose either. it keeps the choice open to be as it is. everything and nothing existing at once. it itself cannot choose. it itself cannot not choose. it annihilates itself with its own existence. it creates itself with its own non-existence. it exists not existing and in not existing it exists.
    it laughs at the absurdity of it all that has befuddled the greatest minds in the universe. even god is befuddled.

    and this too as many belabored as one would be. to kiss the sky radiating as never more while trying to uphold one's defense in conversation. to be where we are when we are going to be the others. what distance unbroken or time unmeasured would contain our observance of all that is holy and wondrous and joy overcomes us for awhile drifting into a groove kinda thing with all of it around one?
    the transparent reasoning of immediate surrounding. a smile against the darkness. he smiles. the darkness hides behind mystery. he smiles. all he needs to know.
    he is in a maze of mirrors with specter selves moving in all directions for and against.
    he awaits the other though he awaits forever. never will he be shown compassion or forgiveness nor respect. not before nor after our meeting. we were enthralled by one's performance of thinking and feeling and even experiencing one unknowingly put on. or does one know? does one know about thinking and feeling and experiencing being despised by the other since one was born? even to be feared? that is how the other made us think, feel and experience. and we wonder who pulled who into what.
    while this storm blows around us he awaits forever. inflamed and consumed by the others into so much smoke and ashes. to stand so near one raging within and without. a maximum spin thing. who did one need to maintain that defense against?

    to die.
    to kill and live.
    to go ape shit and then find a place to rest. breathing oneself down. breathing oneself out. home beneath a tree. home in a bed. home in a kitchen. home taking a walk. home walking into the forest. home walking out of the forest. home walking out onto a beach. and one wonders about the others who were perhaps caught and drowned alive. one realizes the possibility of one being the only one to have made it to land.

    naught but self.
    far beneath the false self based on limits of illusion imposed on one by others. far beyond the windows and the doors where the real self is. where i am is.
    while he sits in this cafe drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes and writing these words in a notebook. while he also reads and talks to those who come to visit him. while he goes home to be alone for awhile and then go to sleep. while he speaks with those of his imagination of all he cannot say to anyone else. while he walks down the street.
    fuck everything, he says to himself.

    open and close mirror. once one sees it once one doesn't. a brain crawler. a mind number. a pasta riddle. a tangler tingler. a crash boom. a walk down the street curved edgewise around a tunnel of hoops. oops - wrong turn. a semblance of nonsense isolated into madness that one needs to get. orbit decaying into the sun.
    believing in one's own sense. to walk away from that othered other world. notes toward a sparrow. a sparrow hawk. a nest of young hawklings. mouths agaggle with stiff necks.
    just another game we play in one to one to group. group to group. to tribe. to nation. to empire. to world.
    one is radiant. one is a wonder among others. a world of wonders and of wondering. one is fool with it. one's head spins with it. one's heart and mind singing screaming whispering a praising of i am. i am being. that whole of oneself encompassing the whole of one's imagination. what greater self is that?

    a geek unwinding a canvas of one's vision one twirls around one's mind.
    a stable of horses gone missing and wild.
    a flock of geese.
    a fly.
    a speck.
    a point.
    a point of pointlessness
    a breaking point into the lukewarm monogray void. flatline hum calls one's name.
    island in the sun.
    dragging down.
    zero.
    stop.
    negate.
    forget.
    nevermind. sorry we bothered anyone now of all times. one must be worried sick and wounded and dying in action. it's a war zone out there. duck and cover city with everyone throwing stones or whatever. glad one could make here with us.

    a brief pause and hesitant reluctance.
    a shivering of fluttering ghosts running up and down one's spine tickling jerking twitches. bugs and snakes under one's skin. a nova.

    out of hand.
    war without war.
    the torture garden.
    give one a heart, a brain  and courage. give one compassion and send one home along the way one already knows and has known and will ever know again.
    in hand.
    flying.

    an inflatable horse. an incredible zip knot. an overture of amazing transformation.
    a eye out.
    a bubble.
    climbing to zero.

    to one who could be anyone. as we look for one and perhaps one looks for us. who can know this? who are we? who is anyone? who answers these questions? suppose we define one another as the enemy? or if just one of us does? oneself? us? who?
    to who's who in the zoo. we are sending out whatever form of communication to whoever. tell us what one thinks. tell us what one feels. tell us what one experiences. it's something new each time around each infinitesimal moment around each infinitesimal point while each of these are swirling forever everywhere - or not any time anywhere but an infinitesimal here now thing we're faced with. shit faced. as each sees with one's own eye. as each discovers one's fate and fortune good or ill. as each dances with one's own rhythm dancing with other rhythms of others dancing. or marching. ta-ta-dee-dee-dee-ta. here we go. here we stay. does it matter either way?
    another cafe. another cup of coffee. another cigarette.
    me, myself and i.
    which excuse is he thinking of using now?
    which way does one follow?
    which way does one avoid?
    which way does one know?
    to know of this knowing. to taste of it various blends of this and that and the other thing. or straight shots of pure it. or all at once.
    to be lost in whatever it may be except for what one imagines imagining it as something else based on some put together meaning of one's knowing one may be quite unsure of but is stuck with little else or too much else.
    to be found in one's being lost. to be known of oneself when all others have been rid of by a process of elimination.
    to be discovering the exploration of all perceived through one's sense and knowledge and imagination.
    to be whirling dervish and praying monk. to be common and ordinary. to have one's eyes open. to have one's eyes closed. to be in. to be out. to be in-between. to be on the battleground.

    it becomes one. one is the remaining sense of who we are that is vague and mysterious. what can we know? what should we know? what is this veil hung between us and hung by who?
    but where and when we are we do know who and what one is. we also know the how and why. but these are secrets of our own perhaps invention or fantasy and illusion. perhaps lies. perhaps reality and truth.
    perhaps we fool ourselves and it's only us.
    mazes of mirrors. faces changing into one another as one is passing through spacetime one wears them all at one point and moment before and after another. as one thinks and feels and experiences and knows and imagines oneself as one - as it - unless one becomes each and every face along the way.
    identification.
    so what's the problem here? others argue back and forth drawing lines daring one another to cross backing themselves into a corner surrounded by images of who and what each one perceives the other to be.
    as we are among them all. as we imagine anything and who is to say whether we are telling lies or truth? as we know everything possible and impossible and who is to say whether it is fantasy or reality? who judges us based on what? what dimension is it contained within and who encompasses that dimension? who knows beginning and end to eternal infinity? to experience oneself divided and separate from that experience. maybe for others that is not a choice. a mandatory sentence of mortality. what is this beginning? what is this end? birth and death. we imagine ourselves born and dying. we watch the clock and calendar. the moments of years transfix us. our perception of what is what in relation to what. our experience of who is who in relation to who.
    who calls our name and speaks of our death? call more loudly, we cannot hear. speak among the others where and when we are not. how can we call this one's name? there was none given. how can we speak of this one's death? there was no birth. not in the world we are. a world without names and without death. continual vibration.
    we are not them if they say we are not. we do not know if they say we do not. we do not think or fell or experience if they say we do not. they have the final word based on their power over others. they decide if we tell the truth. they decide if we tell of reality or fantasy. we have given that to them. this is our choice. this is how we are divided from them.
    so what's the problem here?

    he has reached his heaven though in many ways he realizes that he never left it or he is continually leaving it and reaching it again and again.
    and they will debate this as they will and make war over it with each other. he will not partake in this nor will he not not partake in this.

    forget.
    nevermind.
    don't look back.

    a scarecrow man. a tumble of weeds gone to seed.
    brain heart courage.
    ouch!
    to follow the immediate journey. to flash forever freak flag flying fountains freezing frozen fermented fuck fungus fuzzy frenzy frizzle frangled frumph fugnutzia fodelbash foodle foop fmagging fot flaming?
    questioning the means of answering. anti/pro-particle of not anti/pro-particle. how far does it go without division dividing? would we perceive any difference? is there a difference?
    a shifting of balance in and out of balance. the errors in correction.
    awoke for always awoke once these hearts and minds and souls refuge.
    a sacrifice is to be made between us in the spacetime crosshair pinpoint at close to zero as can be arbitrarily arranged not without argument of not.

    another cigarette to bring us back awhile. we do tend to drift aways off toward an explanation. is everything wrong?
    and half again.
    until one rises to speak as one forgetting or remembering how much one can always be divided one way or both or the other. a twist in the fabric. the one flaw to detect the human hand.

    3/26
    to skip a beat. to bring it to a head. to bring it to one's head. where does one think? where does one feel? where does one experience? what words can define this? where what is is.
    to explode exploding. to sit still sitting still. to be this being that. to be that being this. to be this and that being the other thing. to be it not being it.
    as if there were a beginning of one as if there were an end to another.
    and now the powers of the world do rumble their drums and shout their trumpets. the movers and shakers do move and shake. a death throes. a coughing up of blood. as the beast dies and the whore that has ridden on its back is thrown to the ground. where does power come from now? who survives without it?

    a symbolic awakening. a joy.
    and who would be known as beast and who would be known as whore were walking down the street. who begins this? who ends this? who agrees as to what it is?
    and there are no words between them that can transcend divided and separate meaning. we are moving. we are watching and waiting for someone.
    and there is this absence. there is this emptiness of spacetime as the last missing puzzle piece that will complete our perfection is fitted into place. we are perfect without it. it is where and when we fit into ourselves. this is the void. this is the oblivion the others symbolize to us. they must remain apart in this way. none of us can change it as neither are we willing. if this is not true then why are they not here now? a somewhere and sometime else. where they come to look at the map and when they look at the clock to tell themselves where and when they are supposed to be. they are wrong being here now with us. this is not where or when it is. they must hurry to find it.
    and we have tried speaking with them in these intersections as they zig-zagged their course through and around ours. but they believed that they had not found it. this we relate now is from their own testimony. are they going to say it is not true? how are we ever to believe them? they say that they are not there yet. are we to tell them that they are wrong?
    we do not want those who do not want us. we do not want to know their pain. we do not want to know their frustration and rage. we do not want to know their hatred. we will keep them away from us. we will kill them and all their kind each and every time we meet. should we tell them that they are wrong?
    we listen to them. their description of us as the most terrible horrible thing in existence is interesting. it amuses us. they revel the truth of themselves. they would rather die than not believe.
    we play all the roles and nothing ever pleases them, they insist on being miserable.

    one with.
    one without.
    one dreaming of another with or without another to dream of. we dance around it together and apart. where and when did this begin? where and when does this end? to and from. do we care? do we allow ourselves to be caught into it just because we're playing in it?
    though one lives on some possibility planet on the other side of the sun that mix when our moons are full together. he knows one as he knows himself. we are howling around like a barrel full of monkeys.
    we move around what is thought, felt and experienced. we are dreaming of the other between us. the beast and the whore stroll through this fall of babylon. the light and the dark and the wheel. we watch it spin around us. we vibrate with it. we are it as it is us. we fight over it all the time. but what would one expect otherwise? none of us wins or loses except what becomes other between us that we must surrender to. there is no victory over ourselves together or separately. our mutual love and hatred.

    our disguise as anyone out of the crowd we happen to run into. our meaning to one another even as mortal enemies to the death. this is only a life we are living. we follow whatever course it may take us. some kill. some are killed. some do this. some do that. some do another thing.
    it's just what it is. but if we didn't get excited about it there wouldn't be any excitement. and boredom is what we're trying to get away from. for some of us anyway. others of us live to be bored.
    as we take it down. as it comes and goes around. as we are either wallowing or flying. as it is either this or that or another thing.
    as he merely states the obvious.
    as he smokes another cigarette.
    as he writes more words to describe what he doesn't understand exactly. not really. he can only imagine as most if not all can only imagine. they play tricks on themselves to try to avoid looking at this or that or the other thing and to see it somewhere else or to see it here from somewhere else. the poor fools, that is all they have. that is all they can expect. they are dreamers dreaming a dream they are living in. we are dreaming of them being dreamers dreaming a dream. we live in their dreams. they do not perceive us otherwise. they do not perceive themselves otherwise except this oblivion thing they go on and on evangelizing about. they've got it all figured out with their reason and rationality though it has so many cracks and holes in it that we are amazed that it can hold anything at all. it takes absolute faith to hold it together that they seem not to have any hesitation giving it without question. not one. one leads to another and soon their whole house of reason and rationality falls down and they come up with zip nada zero. but they still will not get up off their knees. they replace one god concept with another never really changing anything about themselves.
    rationalogic.
    irrationalogic.
    oh well. no big deal. they're in or they're out. they alone decide from what they are given and what what they choose to retain or reject from what they are given. but irrationality gives them everything. yet they reject it. we do not understand. we are human. they are human. human is human is human. yes? no? maybe? it's when we begin accepting ideas - rationalogic - that are specifically designed to separate us and everything else that we run into problems.
    so what is it that can be said about being human that can be said about all of us? and since we cannot rely on their descriptions concerning things we must draw upon our own sense of what is and what isn't while realizing that what is and what isn't is the same thing. yes? no? maybe?
    this tells us something very much different from what the others tell us though at the same time it isn't all that much more different. this might lead one to believe or doubt - whichever - that either they or we are not human but something else either greater or lesser. this we will not believe for ourselves except from their own descriptions this might be true. are we to be gods? for the attributes that they ascribe to gods are attributes we would ascribe to ourselves. yet we are human. yes? no? maybe?
    fuck gods.
    so we keep ourselves down. we keep ourselves hidden among them. and we survive and live as close to what is perceived as ordinary as we can tolerate. we do not want to be different. but we do not want to be like them. this is the jam. we are jamming. we are tripping. what a trip.
    we want to go where no one's been. we want the others to come with us, but they won't. we would rather run than crawl. but they are too frightened by that. so we must stay at the pace they feel comfortable with. but at times we become impatient and do run ahead. and when we come back and report what we've seen they laugh and dismiss it as fantasy and/or madness.

    beam it every step of the way. what on earth is it? what on earth in the name of who? come out, come out. unfurl the flags of all each and every separate one. drum a million rhythms of beating hearts. this is what it is. that knowing that knows this. this knowing that knows that. this and that knowing that knows the other thing. the knowing that knows when one might see it. then it would be seen everywhere so as not for it to be seen nowhere. every particle/wave point of it is a decision of energy. will in creative action weaving all at once.

    a day of another day that blend into today of leftovers from incomplete yesterdays and directions toward possible tomorrows.
    a simple enough scheme. multiplied by how many yesterdays and how many tomorrows one is prepared to consider and deal with. that's what we hire everyone else to do for us while we groove in the here and now of all space and time. fuck it. do we care? should we care? let it all rot and burn where it stands. let it all decay into ruin with no one left who will resurrect it up again or any part thereof. but let that be the human curse to resurrect it up again and to worship and serve it as they have always done when opportunity came and went when they had every chance and every reason to walk away.
    and now here they are again at another pinnacle of the stumbling progress. their towers toward heaven having reached another zenith. their great city of cities spread around the globe all ready to end tomorrow. one panic could do it to tip it too far from its delicate balance and over it goes.
    as the beast and the whore stroll in the moonlight through the fires and brimstone of this earthly paradise hand in hand and arm in arm spinning dancing falling with drunken laughter euphoria to the ground and fucking with a fit of passion knowing it will be the last they meet for a thousand years.
    they're the ones who spoil the party, who rain on everybody's parade, who don't follow the game plan but their own devised scheming.
    domino webs falling spreading independent yet interrelated action/reaction rising falling like waves connecting each to another cycles within cycles interlocked everything from subatomic particles to galaxies all in our imagination.
    and those who become extinct along the way. such a horrible terrible thing to happen but as long as it's not us. we didn't come into it this far to let go.
    push. reset. new game. try it again. zap!
    zero.
    smoke another cigarette.
    nevermind.

    however many of us there may be or not we do not know. but there is at least one - us. him. but this may be only that which we have convinced ourselves of to maintain our sense of sanity though it itself may be a symptom of our insanity. woe to anyone who convinces us otherwise. they will be the first to die as we kill with our abandoned rage and hatred for all that lives and breathes and all that creates all that lives and breathes.
    we will go straight to the source of it all and extinguish its light such that nothing remains that can survive. we know our way to this source. we have faced it before and have turned from it to this world it has shone upon where we are hidden from it.
    it seeks to destroy us as we seek to destroy it. we have not been strong enough before but then we were not in a position of having nothing to lose.
    and does this matter in the long run in realtime? one person's thoughts and feelings and experience among the billions. one person's knowledge and imagination. one person's understanding. hardly at all - if at all. it is just someone else who is no one.
    but it is this one billions of times over. waves crashing on the rocks and swept away but slowly eroding the illusion of any reality.
    this great womb we are within and nurtured by within the existing power structures that will fall away when our birth comes even when they serve selfish ends the means serve a built in function. the machine is the machine is the machine.
    the machine we had built for our protection and the protection of those of our kind whoever they may be otherwise. we know who they are - potentially. we designed the machine to know who they are and to make itself available for their use where and when they might need it.
    the machine of course is not actually a machine as being a machine one would find in a factory or construction site or something though parts of it are actual machines. it is a machine in that it is artificially constructed whole out of interconnected interacting parts and systems or parts and parts of systems and doo-wah-hoopla like that.
    the machine itself is invisible though its components are not. the components are not seen as being part of the machine. it takes a certain way of knowing in order to be able to see it. this way of knowing is usually referred to as madness. this is how the machine is kept invisible. this is how we designed the machine to disguise and protect itself.
    but the machine is not something all too awfully important as it is in and of itself except in relationship to itself as a whole than any part or parts of itself which in themselves don't really have much connection to the machine itself as a whole other than being a part or parts thereof. but it is the parts that are important in some sense as without the parts there would be no whole. the parts can function and do function independently on their own without needing any connection to the machine. the machine can and does function without needing any connection to its parts. the machine makes its own connections with whatever parts it needs at any given moment. the parts it connects to for its own purpose may not be the purpose the parts were designed for by themselves in their own particular function. this is hard to explain to anyone who does not know the machine.
    the whole.
    parts of the whole.
    the machine.

    it.
 
    to see and define a part of it is to see and define a part of it. no more. no less. to put a limit on any part of it - a quark, a chair, an eyeball, love, oppression, the 2nd law of thermodynamics, thou shall not kill, nirvana, satan, wealth, sex, drugs, rock and roll, the kitchen sink, etc. - is not to see and define it. this is not right or wrong. this just is. there is one. there is the other. it is one. it is the other. it is also something else. and it is nothing. and it is everything. what does it matter? it is not important. forget it. nevermind.
    nothing explains the one or the other. one can only understand the one by understanding the other. does that make sense? no, of course not. this is where those who have come this far turn around and go back. meanwhile we kick back, relax, drink a few beers, toke up a joint and enjoy the show. we gaze out the window. we scribble in notebooks. we light another cigarette.
    we amuse ourselves watching and waiting for the others to arrive.
    instead there's all these fucking clowns making noise about this and that and the other thing.
    then they leave.
    whew, we say, that was close.
    they could have taken it all since we offer little or no resistance. but they don't know what they got when they got it so they go away. they don't know what we're doing. they don't know what we're up to. they're so full of expectations. they think this is the city of gold they thought would all be theirs. it is the city of mud. it is the city of fools. fools like us. they come here and find some hick town and they check their maps and holy books and signs and symbols and omens and theories and seers and prophets and gurus and all else that tell them what to do and where they're going. and they move on wondering where and when they made the wrong turn. they never ask us what the fuck we're doing here.
    it would burn them to ashes if we showed it to them - if they were capable of seeing it. and they look down at us? these throwbacks? they are children. and they think they are ready for the world to be turned over to them. otherwise they'll take it by force. they have yet to be born from themselves. and most will go to their graves not having done so. the fools. we need not curse them. they curse themselves. we need not defeat them. they defeat themselves. we only need to watch and wait for those among them to come to us and sit with us and light up and see the wonderland of amusement around them everywhere one goes.
    fuck the rest of it.
    laugh until the cows come home.