Cult lickers are exclusive.
They're not black or brown,
But Greene with envy, marginalized at every turn.
They paid up for a briny Cruz, but came away infected.
They don't shut-up Gaetz, so the sheeple meekly escape.
They claim to be God-fearin', but they'll never cross the Jordan.
Like Graham crackers, they are dry, spineless wankers.
And if you're randy Paul, you've finally found an anchor.

a state of standstill is a state of decline
an excess of sediment, an ineffective wine

i only hear that defining moment of time
in the less and less frequent creaking of the keys
the same old letters sadly clack

but can't ever get it back
heart's not in it
can't stay ******
overreactions come to attack

an embarrassing pervert that you already *****
every hour since a desperate hour
wolf crying wolf every five seconds
where the collective cower

****** is always his death name
dont wear it out
wear it where the collective cower

every hour since a desperate hour
hands in the pockets
of that dress with pockets

calling out his death name
when the coming time comes

wolf hands caught in the pockets
of that dress with the pockets

Muchmuchomuchas confucious

is you us o is we you?
dobedobedoo

Save the world s cient ology
al re
ye wit me?
witness, will ye, that we
are in coexistant
realms
realms real by de
finition re
cognition

occult cult occham snip, nope
occult mistook as meaning some cultic
occasion for
relegare regularityifity

imagine how now became
imagine next
coming only to be as you see.

-----
Today, too, sunny valley sounds

crows, dogs, pumps, motors, wheels

wheels in wheels wee blind tinkerers
see
as seers do. You see. Imagine seeing.

why would you, if you could, or can, but won't?
How could you?
Having never seen,
why willt thou carry care past.... here

NO INTERUPTION ... clear, like on TV
Emerging seeing afar off
flatline eeeeeee

           Boss, the last empty slate just broke.
Just is is done, what's next?
We gotta phor mit no meta, y'see?

Watch. Dis

assemble a semblance of a seven jewel ba-alanced,
self-winding (i.e. gravity variable pendulum)
watch. See,

plumb damstraight, toothed wheels, within wheels.

life's life measured.

the unmeasured life ain't a life,
it's a once, upon a time.

No bonds to lies let live for lack of knowledge,
people perish for lack of knowing.
lack of knowing knowables, free knowables,

ask and receive, if ye be con ceptual, right,
in ye'right mind.
"what good ken ye do?"

Know truth is.
That will, that very will to be right,
free will will roll you here, true rest.
Today.

Trust this peace is sufficient unto the evil.
If it were not true, what could I do
good?

No judges? No test? We pasts are free, we may
stir things from the dregs?

Aha, and we stand!, Sistere!

It worked. Patience worked, as always.

Dreams, the friendly version of the ghosts in unfinished business. Constructing ****** minds and arguing morals, while privately respecting the Devil. Shaping poems, turning ethics to ashes. Sweeping fashions over this world.
Well done. Life given freely to living souls. Death is owed. We’re all in debt. The forbidden fruit always tastes better and generally more successful.
It’s too bad.
Dissent friction. Sparking life. Duality of individuals. I’ll keep going back. I’ve looked behind the curtain and saw everything evangelical. Faith not required. Dogma becomes an addiction. Conformity in actions of order-impressions. Laughs and hugs.
And if a philosopher is asked, reality is depending on perceptions.
Power and freedom are this world's best lovers. Enticed drawn in by people.
For some, the difference between God and the Devil. One can be meet before the act of dying as the other is waiting for you to cross over to be judged. Following one will provide freedom here on earth as the rest compensate to be completely corrupted. Don’t sin in my steps. I’m going to be punished by hard-living. Best kept secrets are told in tender moments after ******* sessions. I’ve got nothing but love for the mystics in penitentiaries, soldiers of the century. I’m directly organized and their husbands will never, because I got away. When I die, teardrops will soak into earth, I’ve got meaning in exile. I’m long gone.

If I'm wrong, I die.
I cease to exist.
But I know what it's like not to exist.
Or at least I can imagine.

I didn't exist before I did.
For billions of years.
And Mark Twain was right.
It didn't bother me in the slightest.

But I'll give it a chance.

I will read Awake!
And I'll visit the Hall.
And I'll use your name for God.
Jehovah.

But what if you're wrong?
You feel joy, love, peace.
Meaning, purpose, certainty.
Those things elude me.

But what else?
Fear? Guilt? Isolation?
A hatred that you call pity?
Those things are beyond my reach.

An education cut short?
A marriage too long?
"Don't talk to her.
It's for her own good."

What if it's not?

There will always be people trying to hurt you.
It's easier when they have God on their side.

"Two eyes saw this, but two others did not.
I'll take my reward now.
Did I mention I'm good with kids?"

What if you're wrong?

Sure, your Tower is tall.
It dwarfs my cathedral.
And it does.
I stand in awe.

Your Tower is tall.
It Watches all things.
And it does.
But is it tall enough to see Clearwater?

You know, Celebrity Centers and personality tests.
Cruise and Travolta.
Your names are different: Michael Jackson and Prince.
But the songbook is the same.

Leadership is accountable to no one.
Dissent is a **** that must be eliminated.
The world is out to get you.
And critical thinking is a trap.

Families are vital (until they aren't).
Our authority will not be questioned.
We make no mistakes.
But we do become more perfect over time.

"But it's not 'disconnection,' it's disfellowship.
And they're not 'suppressives,' they're apostates.
And we live in no bubble.
But we'd rather not debate you."

"Besides, they're new.
They're small and they're few.
They have strange beliefs.
That's what matters, right?"

But it's not.
It's not what matters.

And it's not in my nature to hurt people.
I can **** when it's justified.
But I don't know that this is justified.

And consider the life of a poor, worldly soul.
Fear is no friend.
Guilt is a memory.
(Guilt for things that warrant no guilt.)

We see the world as it is.
Science is no threat.
Solitude is a choice, not a lesson.

Education is full.
Abuse is reported.
Families talk.

We are slaves to no Slave.

Of course these things are foreign to you.
Your book precludes them.
And your book is infallible.
But so are all the others.

So thank you for visiting, but I'm hedging my bets.
I wish you the best, but I'd rather take death.

I should probably eat better
And quit smoking soon
Money ends up with the debtor
And stocks pop like balloons

I know that I should know better
But what do you know?
Claiming to "know THE creator"?
What an absurd notion...

I really should exercise more
Spend less time online
At least I'm not so immature
To pretend I know what's Divine.

To why I think poverty is worse than
addiction. Not only destitution gives
you reasons to take any junk, but
destitution will suffocate you while
you’re clean. To life can be grandeur
giving reasons to be grandiose and
as for the rest of life, you’ll resent it.
You’ll fall in love, when it needs you,
break it’s heart, it raise hell, calling
upon the rapture, if you get the chance.
you better conquer it and live beyond
what’s human’s call royalty.
(To my mystics locked up, by culture
and ignorance,
soldiers of
the century, directly organised, to analyse
mankind's
crimes and out directly, looking
for
you.)