.i don't need to be believed to have to write this ****; mind you, in the past, the best things about h'america was the cultural exports, following the whole made in china "affair", but the cultural export was there... right now? socio-political commentary, which is like weilding to accomplish transversing a desert.

i can't say that my
         experience with "god"
was ever good,
          when it happened:
   hazy, 12 years ago,
it wasn't some sort of epiphany...
far from it...
if aristotle says:
philosophy begins with awe...
granted...

   then at least, whatever this is,
begins with a: fear of "god"...
it's not like you suddenly
get a cult following,
   or brand yourself
a mouthpiece...
     i heard a choir,
i had an iPod with me,
turned it on / off during
the "experience"...
then started running around
an empty church,
before hearing
   a grand wind of dispersion...
****, it could have come
from either "up" or "down"...
but it wasn't a "fun" experience...
what...
   much later...
   trying to sell the experience
off?
        conundrum crux...
false prophets,
or whatever you want to call them,
wouldn't mind bypassing
secular standards of acceptance,
amassing a throng
akin to the jonestown massacre...
i know, i know,
people need something to believe in,
i don't have that luxury...
i didn't experience a person,
that.... that wasn't some intimate
experience where i would dare
to utter a single question,
expecting an answer...
        mute...
                    that was me...
eversholt rd., st. mary's church,
opposite the royal mail group
building...

   i mean, how do you even
come up with some sort of explanation
to the, "experience",
as if it would ever be a "good" thing,
start a cult and ****...
with all the benefits:
but once you're dead...
   and then the waiting game
of life, no life,
attached to a fixation
   of theological jurisprudence,
or rather...
succumbing to:
what "sane" people take for
certainty, belief as a motivational
tool, a boost to free will...
back on earth:
peope are "confused" about
their ***, or ****** preferences...
me? i have to do a juggling act
around something,
that i find people being too comfortable
about...

      you don't get a "1st prize"
for this sort of encounter...
you get... precisely: jack ****...
you receive a momentum
to alleviate belief...
   with a doubling of doubt...
yes, after the experience...
you begin to career in doubt...
you look at the priests
and, remain, bewildered...
         trauma...
  maybe just a scenario of testing
sensitivity...
           was i lost?
was it the marijuana:
   such simple explanations had
no affect on me...
well... if only sober,
judge-strict people had that
sort of experience...

   a ******* choir descended as i lay
under a side altar of st. mary's church
wrapped in a white altar cloth...
thinking would be somehow
claustro-phobia-****** and
absolutely no freedom...
    if people are boasting...
i didn't even hear a word,
   but a menacing presence
that dispersed the choir...
back to the gavin mcinnes criticism
of Islam...
   (a) is the quran a problem
    (b) the prophet being a warlord
  (c) inbreeding...
   but there's a (d) aspect...
  why do muslims have no
fear of god?!
   muslims don't have a fear of god...
maybe reading some
of h. p. lovecraft
will be sobering...
   and i'm drunk,
while talking about sobering points...
**** me...

       muslims do not
allow themselves a fear of (their) god...
punching-bag take it all,
     the sins of the past,
up until the age of 21,
everything seemed orientating,
after the age of 21:
disorientated as if after
a tarantula bite...
              jewish-sucker-punch
or what?
             if everyone, sober,
sane,
   had the capacity to experience
"god", well, that would "somehow"
clarify things,
but it's certainly no standard
of crafting excuses,
there are still secular sensibilities
to be minded...
      i kept my mouth shut,
because i presupposed that there
would be, no chance for kudos,
free rides,
a pope-esque stature...

      then would come the atheists...
and that would take
the core reason of argument...
resembling something
akin to playing football...
without a ball...

              good riddance...
given the experience, i allowed myself
   i somehow managed to sustain it...
but the burden, the inability to
provide factual evidence,
akin to a schizophrenic experiecing
suspicious "whispers" in his "ear"...
how many stoners can you find
that experience
   these sort of "delusions"...

esp. after being indocrinated
via a catholic pedagogy?
how many paedohpile clerics of
the collar?
                carte blanche on the whole
affair of the protruding larynx?
the tonsure is in now way
elevating the concept of the kippah?
i also have a fear:
the fear of plagiarißing someone,
originality can only serve me
to find a debased stature of "sin"...
i drink to calm myself,
i visited prostitutes
   to get away from
                  the harangue of women...

best fwend (" "), a blank piece of paper,
but i see sane people making complaints
about revising the existence of
asylums,
   while i just keep thinking
about digging a hole,
  and planting a cherry tree,
     the "orthodox" madmen are
willing to experience
   a hard-on when it comes
to the mildly insane...

                 while the whole world,
eh, *****-nilly, simply, "happens"...
for someone who has seen
how his freedom,
has been translated from
a physical reality,
to a metaphysical cut-off little richard
and replaced with a strap-on...
   whatever depth i was supposed
to be given in an expansion allowance,
this is it,
  i've heard the zenith,
but now comes the nadir...
       disguised solipsism,
this whole
   self-determination lock,
mild autism,
or whatever you want to call it...
   irreplaceable
   irreplaceability complexes...
the current day-to-day theatre of
society...
     and the sobering after-thought
of having to attend a funeral...

last time i attended one,
it was my great-grandmother...
i refused to throw a rose
into her grave...
   then some funeral-crasher...
a woman,
decided it was necessary
   to speak up against me...
what was it that she said?
    right... now i remember:
'oh, isn't he generous!'
strangling her wasn't on my mind,
but now, it is...
              it's much easier
to forget egoism,
when you have phantoms of visage
                          to strangle...

of course i didn't throw that rose
into her grave,
i spent a few hours
after the drunken wake
thinking about her,
           gritting my teeth
until i managed to grind
a chip of one of the teeth,
and gently playing with a candle...
until the rose started to
turn purple,
    from its deep centered
  burgundy.

life...
            i'm seriously past
making a theological debate,
or an atheistic counter argument...
as if there's a god,
and he's a pervert...
   an existential ******...
i don't think that's how it works...
the simplest answer,
is that of an atheist,
who takes the worst
of man, and ascribes
it to a god entity... which is...
                                          alien;
as kant prescribed...
working from all the phenomena
that can be explained...
if there's only one god,
"it" is a noumenon...
                                    a per se...

i pray i can leave this place,
knowing less,
than what i arrived here with,
demanded to know more
and more, and some more...
          ****...
lapsing into a bed,
that seemingly perpetual
placebo of sleep,
   death,
                      it's no more
a haunting presence,
than having to spar
a friendship with nothing more,
than your own shadow...

            brief human interactions
will justify
   this lapse of making
      sound scrutiny of
"friendships";
   how else, to find a rare
variant of happiness...
        when stating
                              a grievance?

the toll: of the awaiting fact
of one's own mortality,
death is no more a worry
than the mortal fact -

death-locker...
    as much an original sin,
as the unoriginality
of the concept of free will...
individuation...
           then yeah...
the "original" sin is a misnomer
for the casual sprechen
of plagiarism;
but humans will not deviate
from the temptation,
of imitating others,
i guess... its a paradox...
of being indoctrinated
into a brief interlude of pedagogy.