Food for your various brains.
Intuitive Perception of Some of the Essence
Perhaps a specific government,
As a medium of the Undoing I,
A force elevated to God,
Dwelleth inside the brain of I,
Strength-sown labels break my body,
IHVH clips my wings,
Shoulder-blades elevated in tension,
The worst passage or way presents cash,
Feeling bad about things,
What would a squirrel do?
Never enter tain,
Exertion is never toil to a gray squirrel,
Enough of Gawddgery,
No thoughts:
Failure,
Pain,
Problem and burden,
Cells in hell on a work-planet,
Always a game, a game of play-fight,
Play-fight to the death, like metal coined,
Imprinted with a seal,
Provoking men to force, exertion,
It is you doing this hating,
While mind loves the son,
Nothing is right but shit,
Before it splashes into still waters below,
A pressed spirit adds to the violence,
To meet a random future,
So long as I survive,
Understand the power, pretend I play,
I don’t.
Down to the root of disturbing phenomena,
Partly wanting to worry, or leave,
Even the “good” times most interesting,
Getting the hatred out,
Uncanned, on occasion it feels exciting,
Don’t believe the past,
Malicious forces to confuse,
Powerful acts and ideas,
Disturbing phenomena,
Yet, this shit is right,
All I hit is my own skin,
Words, symbols: nothing,
Forests used as a measure of timber,
I believe in shit, I shat as an,
Exchangeable equivalent,
A commode-ditty, perhaps of poison tonic,
Don’t believe the past exercises,
That’s the goal with me,
Verbal and written communication—the least good,
Nothing is accurate when compared,
Holds down my power—understand the power, exertion,
Get strong, chaotic,
or leave.
This Voidness Can Be Easily Accessed
::::The Station of Nothing Whatsoever::::
enjoy: anatomy of a process:
possess and use your life,
your body,
that filthy flesh you carry around with you,
what are you beyond your body,
what is a body beyond pain, burdens, hunger, thirst,
a vast chasm, a black hole,
sucking up life,
like a hole blown,
in the sidewalls of a 747 in flight,
devouring suction,
everything and everyone spews hot cum all over,
the face of your life,
become a comedian on your own stage,
laugh at your own worst jokes,
you are the joke,
Howl with Ginsberg,
Scream your barbaric yawp across the rooftops at 3:33 am with Whitman,
Stare into the sun until it turns black with Cactus Ed,
Make yourself the expression of wildness with Thoreau, Muir,
End your life with Dickenson, Plath, Cobain,
Fill your days with wild streaks of color as if reality were a Pollack canvas,
Let the poets of olde inscribe joy, love, pain, and loss,
Upon furrows of brain and brow,
Let the furrows of foothills call feet to dance with Goldman and Rajneesh,
Undo Yourself with Drs. Hyatt, Regardie, Reich,
Redo it with Gurdjieff and other remarkable men,
Travel through time and memory palaces with Philip Dick,
Find power with Neitzche,
Fuck a gorgeous painted whore with Wonhyo,
Name your trousers “No Obstacle,”
Be loved as Gandhi,
Hated as Hitler,
Or
Loved as Hitler,
Hated as Gandhi,
Sucking up life,
A vast chasm,
A black hole,
Singularity.
Enjoy: a process of YOU.
The Basic Problem of Why You Are Here: The Terror of The Situation
The worst thing about the world:
Children taught to interpret experience,
To mangle it into words, symbols, ideas,
Further fucking the pilot,
Who gets lost,
Who is the hate,
The Idealized,
The Brutalized,
Now, without “other people,”
I find this whole of bullshit,
Imprisoned in fantasy,
Factories,
Lies-that bind,
Mushrooms call it “Abstract Tangibility,”
a missing perspective of the whole,
where the sidewalk begins,
my own worst enemy,
and who is the hated one?
These words act as bark on a gnarled oak,
Or fresh pavement plopped atop a stump-ridden mudhole,
Or bandaids on bulletholes,
Thick hot blood,
The heart of the matter is what gets left out,
What is missing is what I AM
About Jack Wild
Hmmmm