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Nov 2010
In the silence before the creation of existence……what God there may be spoke of all that may come to pass……..and this is what I now come to realize…….this great and terrible abyss opens up before me, beckons me to take the plunge into ethereal life yet death at once different and the same…….free association writing that I haven’t been able to stop flowing through my fractured skull since that one day when you and I composed some kind of insanity at 3 o’clock in the morning high as hell and drunk as ****…..I can’t stop to take stock of what I have written here today, right now……lest the demons of forgetfulness come to steal the words away…..the rhythm of the universe cries out in one ALMIGHTY voice “remember”…….what am I to say to the memories we share……shall I embrace the crazy ambivalent yet gruesome life you offer me…..here, now, listening to Tool whilst William Blake weeps in the corner beside me, weeps at the folly of the search for truth and meaning in such a dark and lonely place as this godforsaken desert of a planet……though what Blake knows not in his head, his poet’s heart has known from the beginning……WE CREATE OUR OWN ******* MEANING…….just because we are lied to from birth, just because we are made to believe that if only we follow the rules and vote republican, that everything’ll be all pizza and ******* (to quote Don Cheadle), just because we realize this lie does not mean that we must submit to the tyranny of lost souls and pens of insignificant blabbering about god and morality and some such nonsense about politics…….there is NOTHING…….save the world we create for ourselves….within ourselves…..like that Talmudic script of wisdom……”we don’t see the world as it is, we see it as we are”……for what dark god must we sacrifice ourselves to somehow save ourselves or some such ******* that doesn’t make any sense except to say that the death of the self somehow equals salvation……I’ve lost the stream now…..wait it returns, the Fates return with the Muses to give me the strength to say what must be said in these times of trial and tribulation…..I am the Hanged Man, questing irrevocably onward in search of my own metaphor of a Dark Tower…..If only Stephen King would know what kind of an impact he would have on me……if only you knew what kind of an impact you would have on me…..you who tempted me to remove my Iron Mask because no matter how burned and deformed my soul may be, you prefer it to a lie………and that’s what I have done, unto others as was done to me…..I LIED…..I lied to protect myself from all that I thought could destroy me……but once upon a time, in the darkest pit of despair I had ever thrown myself into, when I had not God nor Love nor Belief to turn to for aid or succor I chose to continue existing simply out of spite……the knowledge of life within death sprung from some unknown source within myself, or perhaps Jung’s collective unconscious, or maybe even the Soul of the Universe…….I once thought that the Truth didn’t matter because if one has enough power the truth becomes irrelevant and only what people think is true matters….BUT YOU, YOU WHO BOW TO NO MAN SHOWED ME A DIFFERENT PATH, A PATH OF TRUTH WITHIN THYSELF……….William Blake lifts his head and stares at me after this glorious revelation…..he has come back from his own plunge and brings his own knowledge, his own take on truth…….I am tired now, but I must not stop, I cannot stop, because I have more to say, so much more to say, as do we all……I couldn’t muster the epic courage necessary to tell you what I feel I must tell you….much more than a simple drunken I Love You of a text message…..anyone can say that…..but ONLY I can say that I have know my first untroubled sleep in many years while in the same bed with you….you asked me if you could touch me and you said I was soft….you said I would be soft….I am soft of skin, though not of protection…..I am just as soft within my heart for you as my skin is without……we did nothing but look at each other and I was content within myself…..for just the short time we were there…..AND THEN CAME THE INHUMAN ANGER AT THE THOUGHT OF ANYTHING CAUSING SOMETHING SO BEAUTIFUL OF SOUL AND BODY HARM……….thus why I hate fascism and communism and totalitarianism and theocracy and all that would seek to destroy the world of drugs and punk and freedom that I have come to love with such a fiery passion because it has liberated me from the chains of resistance within conformity…..because of you…..I AM FREE.
Jon Shierling
Written by
Jon Shierling  Old Florida
(Old Florida)   
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