03 July 2014

Two Hundred and Thirty-Nine


Heaven is just another word for the oblivion of immaculate awareness.
And hell, well, just look around and endure the wander as best ye may.

* * * *
The void is the void is the void, and, try as hard as you might,
The grand emptiness can never even for a moment be filled.

* * * *
You are that which is god, I am that which is god.
Just playing out different perspectives.
It is that amazingly simple.

* * * *
The embodiment of nonchalance
Is standing in a crowded line of urinals,
Some magic and a few shots of gin and tonic
Morphing happily through your veins,
An iPod with Chopin playing,
The tile wall in your eyes dancing,
All as if it was just another day in the life.

* * * *
And what is all this experience, really,
But a memory the moment it is dreamt?

* * * *
Passion is the harbor of all meaning and purpose,
And ultimately meaningless and without purpose.

* * * *
In jest, you say?
Well, let us punch you in the nose,
And we shall quickly see if you can manage a belly laugh.

* * * *
A dark age is on the horizon.
As dark as anything humankind has ever seen.
And, despite the good intentions of many, there is, alas, no stopping it.

* * * *
It is all nothingness layered with one manifest veneer or another.
The ether of awareness toying with the elements,
Intelligent design, if you will.