A little poet

There is a skeeter on my peeter, and I intend to whack it off
Ant the ghost of you haunts me and my bookshelves
like the Ghost of Easter present the Siamese cat. 
you know the one with the ugly yellow spring hat?
The pavement of my youth is old and cracked.
The cartons say the same thing as they did back then
But the rumors they spread aren't the same.
Celebrations of grandeur, celebrated alone
Someone called the goose now it's gone to the dome
Nothing made sense here, least of all the boots
given the clouded structure of Ellison and Moots.

A piece on death, acceptence of other cultures, and living.

How can you prove it? That is the question for most of us isn’t? Oh. I’m sure as you butter your toast that isn’t on your mind, but I’m sure if you really pay attention throughout your day it’ll cross your mind. It might not be in those words; yet, the proof of something will be questioned.

Belief is a hard nut to crack, and in modern physics even harder to crack. Just think about if you aren’t there it isn’t real, and then you begin to think is anything real? Well, I think the true answer is no, and then we embark on a truly Gnostic path. So, solely an solipsism’s point of view nothing ever happens, unless you are there, but how is this so when it is obvious that other things happen without you being there, unless you are all things in the end?

How can there be no beginning, and no end; if all things just are then they are just as they are without separation?

It’s a complicated mess that I spend way too many lonely nights pondering, wishing, hoping, and longing over my assumptions to be untrue. That after all things are said and done we never were, nor never will be more than what we see, and feel. A very narrow edge the razor of nihilism is, but yet, I must move forward towards hope that not is hopeless.

The number one reason I think it might be pointless to move forward is that I will be preaching to the choir. Anyone who would read my stuff has already read the stuff that I have read, and probably have come to some conclusion close to mine. I guess in the end I wonder if I’m helping at all, or just throwing worthless shit out there that no one cares about, and throwing pearls to the swine.

It all rests on certitude, and when you read the above statements (if you have made it this far) you would probably be lost, and that is exactly how I feel. I once heard Fred Allen Wolf say that he wanted to leave this world a better place. So, that upon his reincarnation the world would be better for the newer him. I find this interesting, but as I look into more religious doctrine, I realize that a great deal of thought over the centuries has dealt with this very concept. I don’t think anyone really believes in any of it. Not deep down, and that the only thing they are really fighting is the one thing everyone does know for certain: the body in which you live your life will at some point cease in its beingness.

Right now I’m not even concerned with whether your consciousness moves anywhere, but the simple and inevitable death of you as a shit factory. It is going to happen. I know this, and I am willing to bet that every walking, thinking, reacting piece of animated carbon knows that fact too. It is out of this fear that we create little stories that comfort us. Even the damned atheists do it.

The atheists have their cause, and if one gives them selves to a said cause, a bigger entity, then one lives on through the cause. It is a simple honest hope that through offering ourselves to the bigger cause we somehow (and oddly enough in a very Christ like manner) are resurrected and live everlasting life by passing on the illuminated ignorance to the following hapless apes.

There is no escape, not really. Yet, here we are toiling away to buy a T.V. The information age is being jeopardized, but because we fear death we are willing to give everything but the T.V away. The only reason we aren’t willing to do that is the same reason farmers farm. It’s to forget for a while that you are going to cease to be, and that somewhere in the dirt of the field he will find meaning in another wise pointless life. Is it possible that through this pointlessness we can find the meaning?

Oh, I hear it now the Jesus people are screaming Christ; the Hindu folk are claiming Krishna, Muslims Mohammad, and the Buddha minds emptiness. I need your trust in this one. I want you to ponder, what your chosen holy figure would say if you threw your T.V. out the window.  Not one of the aforementioned whistle blowing, revolutionizing, unpatriotic fuckers would be sad by your actions. However, I would like to point out that they would be rather pissed at you for fighting to keep it. Because it draws your mind away from what is really going on.

The point is you need to think about death, and accept it, and since you do this you will be a little more thankful for the time you have, a little more understanding, a bit more accepting, and little less worried that your two male neighbors use their own bodies to test the temperature of the other. Why!? Because you aren’t going to have enough time to worry about others, when you need to be working your own self-serving bullshit out, your time is short, and in the end it means diddly shit any way.

So, the pointlessness of everyone else’s bullshit doesn’t weigh you down, what is weighing you down? Well, now that we have accepted the pointlessness of all things, death along with it becomes pointless. Meaning? You aren’t scared of shit. Meaning? You can now begin to live life! Isn’t that exciting!

That’s right Christ wasn’t living until he gave up everything. You too can begin living by minding your own business, and not giving a shit. See, this is what those holy guys did in the end. They made the everyday bullshit not matter. They made you able to live by not fearing. In any religious and authentic tradition, there should be no fear for there is no death. True death is the fear of life., and getting caught up with the demons, kleshias, shenpas, and any other word you want to forge in regards to everyday bullshit that stops you from living, and I mean truly living.

Have we not forgotten to live on our own? We have become accustomed to living out our dreams and fantasies in our own homes, safely far, far away from fear. This might be the single reason I detest some writers and storytellers. They gave people the ability to live out dreams, and did not giving them the proper tools to do it on their own. These men have become god’s in their own right, just because they wrote their negative feelings down, and traveled the world. Traveling does not make one great it only makes them proactive, and identifying with these men only makes you reactionary.

Yet, I can prove none of this trifling. You can though, by trying it out, thinking about it, and just being in pure experience. After all there is only one certainty that you, those great men that are now gods, me, and all the plant life in the world can count on, and that is death. Don’t be afraid of not existing. One must experience to miss the experience in the first place, and if you hide from everything to avoid death, you have essentially hidden from everything that can make you alive.